Goth Chick News: “Slasher Films”… Really?
I was right on the verge of having a field day with this and it couldn’t have come at a better time.
It starts with today being exactly 24 hours past my usual Black Gate deadline. The events leading up to this would appear to be insignificant, but trust me when I say their aggregated affect — culminating in the toilet set being left up (again) in the “unisex” Black Gate bathroom — had wreaked utter havoc with my normally cheery disposition.
But then a ray of sunshine penetrated the underground bunker of the Goth Chick offices; a statement so rife with possibilities that I was mentally riffing on it before the final syllable was spoken.
“Slash is starting a horror movie production company.”
Oh yes, it was going to be a good day after all.
Let me back up and color this in a bit for you.
The year is 1988 and a hair band out of Los Angeles called Guns n’ Roses finally scores a number one hit with “Sweet Child o’ Mine.” There’s a guy with a wild mass of long, frizzy black locks, banging away on lead guitar who was christened Saul Hudson when he was born in Hampstead, England but was now know by the far cooler name “Slash.”
Yep, that Slash.
Centurion (2010)
The gentlemen staff of Black Gate tirelessly seeks out ways to entertain you. There have been 
The holidays are over and according to AccuWeather, approximately 70% of the United States has snow on the ground and for a whole lot of you, this may be just a rare enough occurrence that for the moment, you’re mildly amused. But trust me when I tell you the novelty of throwing it at each other, sliding down it, or for a select group of you, writing your name in it, is going to wear off. And that’s when the cabin fever sets in.
Vampire Circus (1972)
Last week, I discussed my 
“The 25th anniversary edition of The Last Starfighter.”
How to Train Your Dragon
There are bits of wrapping paper static’d to the lamp shade and tendrils of curly ribbon hanging off the chandelier. Here I lay in a sugar and red meat coma under the pressing weight of one too many conversations with the essence of Christmas spirit, three times distilled. With New Years Eve still in front and a bacchanalia of epic proportions behind, what can I do but think happy thoughts about the coming year and a time when the little troll living between my ears will finally stop running in circles and shouting.