Make-Up Wiz Tom Savini (Friday The 13th, Dawn Of The Dead, From Dusk Til Dawn) Can NOT Come Close To This Level Of Scary Theatrics.
It's Halloween night.
The daughter is out in her Hayden Pannetierre/Heroes cheerleader costume, replete with fake scars, some “blood” smears, and even a busted “rib” protruding from a rip in the uniform. My fearsome beauty.
Saw a truly fearsome beauty on the 4 Train today, too. A five-foot-eight, Latina and perfect Vampirella look-alike. Had the black leather boots, the red, deep-gorge leotard, upper arm-rings and the dead-on demure white collar. Even twin slim trails of fake blood trailing from either side of her mouth down her swan-like neck. I was head-buried in a copy of GQ when I heard the dude next to me mutter “Hol-eeeeee shit.” Looked up and saw the on-her-way-to-a-party Vampi, took her all in, and I (thinking I was using my “inside” voice) audibly said “Got-damn.” Vampi looked over and I said, trying to save face a bit, “You nailed it. You nailed it.”
“Thank you.” she demurred.
“Make it yourself?”
“Mmmm-hmmmm.”
The “Holy shit” guy next to me goes, “And she sews, too?” He shook his head ruefully and then looked away as if looking over a distant hill. “God, just kill my ass.”
She laughed, I laughed, everybody at our section of the train car laughed. And homegirl was frighteningly beautiful. She was “Vampi” in every way the real Vampi was. Lord.
Dude gets on at Union Square with his date. She's dressed as a spider lady with webs in her hair, spiders on her jacket, and creepy spider rings on her fingers. Dude was in a pinstriped suit, tie, and a pig's snout and matching piggy ears. Sits across from me.
“Capitalist or chauvinist?”, I asked.
“Could go either way, tonight.”, he snorted.
More laughter on the train.
But I have to thank a Group News Blog reader Rosali, for providing us all with a TRUE scare—namely the picture at the top of this post. The creepy, “The Hills Have Eyes” lookin' nut-job in the center of the trio is one Rudolph W. (for What-the-fuck-are-you-wearing?) Giuliani. It's an exceptionally rare snap of him from one of his most stupidly infamous moments as a U.S. attorney. In previous Giuliani posts, I've cited the goofball moment the pic captures. Giuliani, and then NY Senator Alphonse D'Amato (at right) and Judge Benjamin Baer (at left—dressed as...JOSPEHINE THE PLUMBER?) dolled up in “undercover” gear for a buy-and-bust sting operation to show how easy it was to buy crack in new York at the time. Now, one would be inclined to say that Rudy and company had already hit a DEA evidence locker and sampled the goods to have had the nerve to put on these ridiculous get-ups, but thanks to Rosali, the way is pointed to some fun commentary on it:
“Wearing a Hell's Angels black leather vest with patches that read "Dirty Thirty" and "Filthy Few," the future mayor purchased two vials for $20. Apparently, New York crack dealers were sampling their own product. Giuliani's casual-Friday trousers and gold belt buckle make him look more like a man who wants to sell homeowners insurance than a drug addict. And the post-cataract-surgery glasses aren't very menacing, either.”
It's easy to find pics of ol' razor lips all dragged-out in sequins and Dame Edna gear. He wants people to see the over-the-top ridiculous images of him. But most pictorial evidence of this little bed-shit of a publicity stunt has been pretty much flushed down the memory hole. You can't find the old footage of the day's events anymore...and stills were impossible to come by for quite a while. It was an embarassment for the venomous little martinet. We clowned him on it in town—BIG TIME. But in spite of his best efforts to wish this bit of costumed stupid away, here it is again, and here it shall remain—until I incorporate it into a fine Rudy video you'll soon be seeing. (Insert pig-man's “snort” here.)
And ironically, as Halloween's fog and apparitions swirl about us, Rudy's seeing a few “haints” dancing in the tree shadows as well. His recent ad about the perils of “socialized medicine” where he self-servingly kvetched about his own battle with prostate cancer and how were he in Europe his survival odds would have been less than here (would that it were so—I'd gladly pay for him to do the empirical testing of the theory) got eviscerated so fast, it woke up in a bathtub full of ice with an ugly belly scar, goin' “Wha hoppen?”:
“I had prostate cancer, five, six years ago. My chance of surviving prostate cancer, and thank God I was cured of it, in the United States: 82 percent. My chances of surviving prostate cancer in England: only 44 percent under socialized medicine.”Giuliani’s ad is full of misleading right-wing claims that overhype the broken U.S. health care system. A look at his “facts”:
—Giuliani cites inaccurate statistics. While the rate for men with prostate cancer is slightly higher in the United States, the five-year survival rate in England is actually 74.4 percent according to the Office of National Statistics in Britain.
—Giuliani relies on unsourced figures from a right-wing think tank. Giuliani’s campaign confirmed that it obtained its faulty numbers from an article entitled “The Ugly Truth About Canadian Health Care” in the right-wing quarterly magazine City Journal, which is an arm of the conservative Manhattan Institute. As MSNBC notes, the author of the “Ugly Truth” article provided no sources for his “facts.” The Manhattan Institute receives funding from multiple pharmaceutical companies.
—Giuliani uses a weak measurement of comparison. Cancer experts note that mortality rates, which “show the number of people who actually die from the disease,” may be better measurements than five-year survival rates. Under this comparison, the two countries are even closer: “Age-standardized prostate cancer mortality rates are 15.4 per 100,000 people in the United Kingdom and 12.0 per 100,000 in the United States, according to the American Cancer Society.”
The New York Times joined in on the rusty butter knife guting of the bullshit ad as well, leaving Sun King Rudy's lying satellites around him to mewl when grilled about whether they'd continue with the lying about the issue, “Yes. We will.”
Somewhere, my buddy in the pig snout snorts out a laugh again.
And to make matters worse, the talkative Joe Biden chucked a cynaide-dipped shuriken at The Rudester in the Democratic debate the other night. Right at Rudy's pasty nads.
“And the irony is, Rudy Giuliani, probably the most underqualified man since George Bush to seek the presidency, is here talking about any of the people here. Rudy Giuliani... I mean, think about it! Rudy Giuliani. There's only three things he mentions in a sentence -- a noun, a verb, and 9/11. There's nothing else! There's nothing else! And I mean this sincerely.”
It was a pretty vicious laugh line—and it wounded Rudy badly. You know it did, because Biden isn't even a contender, and Rudy couldn't ignore the jagged-shoveled dig . His communication director responded with a statement that had all the humor of a mass grave being found in the backyard of an orphanage, and then Rudy tried to quip his way out of it with lame-ass plagiarism jokes that Johnny Carson rejected in '87. He came off looking like the poor clown standing on the playground after a snap-master has torn his face off with a brutal line as everybody's still going “Oooooooooooohhhhhh!”—and he sweats, stammers and can only go, “Well...well, your mama!”
As we used to also say on the playground after such a weak comeback, “Ah-Doyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”
Look at that lame-fuck tool in the center of that above pic one more time.
That's the GOP frontrunner. That's who Chris Matthews is gleefully “South Park” ball-washing every damned day.
Yeah, that was a chill that just went up your spine, people. Happy Halloween!
You've done better costumes than the pictured last-minute, hamper-raid abomination. I know you have.
So out with it! Tell us about your best Halloween costume/costume story. It's gotta be better than getting clowned as a half-assed Josephine the Plumber, a dime-store Lt. Hunter of Hill Street Blues, and a Cinderfella-era Jerry Lewis/Eric Von Zipper mash-up. It's just gotta!
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