A Jack T. Chick tract from 1991.

The theme of the day? Halloween. (Goes well after the recently cooled node... =)

In this tract JTC uses fairly übercartoonesque style. I guess the reason is to give a more humorous atmosphere, because the topic is so evil that a counterbalance is needed. Or something. Maybe JTC doesn't want to scare the children.

In the tract, a bunch of people rent a cottage from a camping area for Halloween celebration. They got it for cheap. Reason, as someone in the group believes, is that last year 13 people (subtle numerology here?) were murdered there.

Apparently they're celebrating really throughoutly: "Carrie will sacrifice a cat to Satan at midnight." And outside, a black-clad man with a big pumpkin on the head and a snake in the end of a leash is looking at the other cars that are approaching the cottage: "They're coming to celebrate my birthday! @!!**... I forgot my chain saw!"

So as this Carrie person is sacrificing a cat at midnight, the pumpkin-headed (or rather a Jack-o-lantern-headed, as we see now more clearly) guy with the chain saw crashes through the door, claiming feline sacrifice is inadequeate for his needs and demands Carrie herself as the substitute. Then, he proceeds to "Buzzzzzz" around, regrettably the scene was censored.

Cat flees, as does one terrified person - and the authorities are alarmed and they, in a mentally alarmed state, estimate that only an army will be enough to stop this killer.

40 minutes later, The Authorities arrive, and apparently waste considerable amount of bullets. (The Authorities are here depicted swearing: "Die, you @!!**!" Now now. I guess JTC made a big mistake here =) The lantern-headed guy pulls his head out of the pumpkin, and the Authorities flee upon seeing the horrifying (ehm, I guess) Devil Himself.

19 dead. Outside the church, the Devil is harassing a boy who was praying when the others were celebrating. But the boy says, "The Lord rebuke you, Satan!" and the Satan flees.

The Pastor then tells the boy The Brief History of Satan. Here begins the part in which the Satan character gets really humorous, and intentionally so. Worth a chuckle. "...Lord Jesus Christ!" "Ugh, I hate that name!".

Then, to the Satanic stuff that's behind the Halloween: To Satanists and Witches, the Pastor tells, Halloween is the most solemn ceremony, and as the Second Coming of Jesus approaches, Satanism will increase and with it will increase human sacrifices. (You heard it right. Who knows, it may be an Olympic Event next time or something. JTCs conspiracies are well founded. =)

The Pastor then tells about the Druids, who in the British Isles started the event - "Those guys were really spooky." They took victims for human sacrifice in Oct 31th, left Jack-o-lanterns around to protect the homes from death demons.

Nasty plot, eh? And witchcraft is "exploding among teens today." (And as a result, 10 years later, the same teens are making millions from new media and computer thingies. Coincidence? I think not. =) So Accept Jesus As Your Savior.

Two related examples of how "Boo!" might be used:

1) I have just crept up behind you, and for some reason desire to surprise or startle you. To this end, I will probably say "Boo!" as loudly and quickly as possible.

2) You are not best pleased with my startling antics, and wish to convey your displeasure. You decide, therefore, to boo me. In this case, you will say "Boo!" in a deep voice, quite slowly. I will then slink away, feeling suitably chastised.

The name of a particularly strange South African band. This band encourages their fans to yell Boo! instead of giving the usual applause. The band is headed by Chris Cameleon, with trumpet/bass player/general weird instrument guy Ampi Omo and Princess Leoni on the drums. They describe their style of music as Monki Punk which is a fusion of Alternative, Punk and some typical South African rhythms with a fair sprinkling of trombone and alien voices mixed in.

For more info check out their website - http://www.boolive.com

"Who killed the fucking TV ?"

Back in 1992, when Was (not Was) released their last album 'Are you ok?', they were still pretty much every music critic's favourite demented P-Funk band that managed to incorporate David Was's dadaistic streak with 10 years of experience in shaping dance tracks out of his wonky lyrics, a superb trio of soul aces and a cheap drum computer. 'Papa was a Rolling Stone' and 'How the heart behaves' charted pretty much everywhere, and another Was (not Was) album crawled its way into the mainstream's ear.

And then there was 16 years of silence. Don Was discovered fame by producing everybody who had a miff of 'legendary superstar' about him, David Was discovered movie sound tracks and emulated Don by doing some producing of famous artists. There were sporadic appearances of Was (not Was) live and talk of a Bob Dylan cover album, but it wasn't until Rykodisc offered them a contract that the old Dadafunk machine creaked back into business.

Boo! reunites the ficticious Was brothers with their stellar vocal cast of Sweet Pea Atkinson, Sir Harry Bowens and Donald Ray Mitchell (supported by Kris Kristofferson) and some of the most weird and wonderful lyrics one can imagine. Starting off with Semi-interesting week, it features one of the loveliest patriotic images imaginable:

On Monday I was trying to get my freak on
With a couple twins from Washington DC
One of them wore the American flag
The other sang "Land of the Free"
Me, well, I'm not that patriotic
But the sisters really didn't seem to mind
When the sun rose the following morning
They did a red, white, and blue bump and grind
So far, so good
Things were looking so bleak
But it's been a semi-interesting week


This air of mild to completely wonky eccentricity continues throughout the album, picking up where 'Out come the Freaks', 'Walk the Dinosaur' and I feel better than James Brown' left. Yes , sometimes they are taking it a bit far, but the musicianship and the funk save the album from being the musical answer to Hunter S. Thompson. Don Was's lazy bass is juxtaposed with some Wah Wah's and very Mini Moogish sounding synth licks and jampacked with excellent grooves, killer ballads and -yes- one or two howlers which are nevertheless saved by their lyrics.

Without delving into the indvidual tracks (wich is often a boring and tedious exercise), the whole album is clearly the best they have done in 16 years and well worth getting. Available from Itunes and your friendly local retailers this will satisfy both brain and booty.


Was (not Was): Boo! Rykodisc, 2008

"Why don't they just get a dog?" Maggie asked. "People with dogs never have problems with ghosts."

Maggie's dad looked at her all tilty-like, one eyebrow up, his lips doing wiggly things. "Now, you say that like it's true," he said slowly, his eyes going back and forth from his daughter to the road as he drove. Curls of vapor escaped his lips as he talked, flashed white in the chilly air inside the car, and faded away. "Read that on Wikipedia, did you?"

Maggie huffed out a breath that sent a misty cloud rolling towards the steering wheel. She didn't know how she knew, so she didn't answer. The man on the radio was still talking about poltergeist-inspired banging cupboard doors and rattling silverware. "We were pretty scared. We didn't know who to turn to. We found Miss Delia, Professional Medium, in the Waukesha County Yellow Pages."

Maggie's dad said, "These advertising-driven interviews on the morning radio are getting ridiculous." He reached over and poked the volume knob on the console. There was a beat of silence and then he began to sing, "I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair..." Maggie giggled and joined in. The car was getting too warm for breath-clouds, so Maggie sketched ghosts on the passenger side window with her finger before the fog all disappeared.

They were still singing when a yellow pick-up truck skidded fast through the intersection two blocks from Maggie's school. It slammed into their driver's side door.

"... and send him on his way."

Maggie's father died, gone like the drawings on the fogged window. As if a hand had rubbed him out, he was the transparent space, surrounded by water droplets running down the glass. Days later, they cracked the frozen ground open and gave his body to the earth. Bruised and heartbroken, Maggie stood with her mother at the funeral. She held onto a rose's headless stem. Her half-numb restless fingers had cast all the red petals onto the snow around her feet.

Behind her, Maggie heard the sound of tires rolling. There was a car on the street on the other side of the cemetery's scrolling black iron fence. She tensed and clutched the rose stem tighter. The priest's mouth was shaped like words but there was no volume. She heard the car approach the intersection. It stopped. Maggie's anxiously-held breath released in a whisper of white and she could hear the priest's voice again. Suddenly, there was music. It wasn't loud, but the sound waves passed cleanly through the dry, freezing air. It was Mitzi Gaynor singing that song from South Pacific. "I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair..."

Maggie whirled to look and the car began to move on, taking the song with it. She saw an orange magnet clinging to the driver's side door, shaped like a giant business card. "Miss Delia, Professional Medium. I talk to ghosts," it said. Miss Delia's little purple car turned the corner. The license plate read: SAY BOO.

"That woman is a menace," Maggie's mother said, frowning after the car. "She takes advantage of the scared and the bereaved." Her words hung in a white cloud in front of her face, thick with pain and angry disapproval.

Maggie looked up at her. "Mom, can we get a dog?"

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