This originally went up on my MySpace blog on July 4th but I think it fits the criteria for this blog, too, which means that it is neurotic, rambling, and vaguely amusing, and that I don't think it's particularly depressing or offensive.
Well now, aren't I just the gift that keeps on giving? Another blog! Just as inane and meandering as the last one - and that's a promise.
I've been watching a marathon of "The Twilight Zone" on the Sci-Fi Channel. I forgot until a few hours ago that they show a few dozen episodes on New Year's Eve and day and July 4th, give or take a few hours. I always manage to miss my favorite episodes (although at the moment I couldn't tell you which ones those are).
I do remember that last New Year's I ended up watching the one where Marsha couldn't leave the department store and it turns out she was a mannequin - you know, the episode that irrevocably scarred me for life and caused a deep-seated, unhealthy and completely irrational fear of mannequins, dummies, and by some odd extension, wigs. I knew I should have turned it off as soon as it came on but I couldn't do it - I couldn't stop watching. And I have to tell you, that's the scariest fecking thing I've ever seen. Forget any of the Saw movies; anything with zombies or mass murderers or contagious flesh-eating diseases or body-snatchers. Mannequins scare the hell out of me. I avoid them in department stores and I won't turn my back to them . . . Aw, hell. I can feel a panic attack coming on just thinking about it. Damned soul-sucking plastic minions of the devil...
Where was I?
Right. "The Twilight Zone."
Seems like I always end up watching the episodes I don't like. Or I should say, the ones I don't like as much. Burgess Meredith was in an awful lot of episodes, wasn't he? And something about him just grates on my nerves. I can't explain it - although I do like the episode where he's a librarian on trial for being obsolete. I don't know why.
It's funny I was thinking about those two episodes. Because they sum my life experience up pretty well. I like books. And I hate things with faces (things meaning inanimate objects, not people or animals or actually most stuffed animals but that's probably because I was never allowed any pets growing up).
I think part of my problem with mannequins also stems from the fact that when I was young and impressionable I watched a TV program called "Today's Special." I'll elaborate for the uninitiated here, which I sincerely hope is everyone, because, damn.
"Today's Special," like so many other crappy, crappy things, was produced in Canada, America's hat. As I recall, the basic premise was that this woman named Jodie worked in a department store at night (I'm not sure why). Jodie hat a magic hat she put on a mannequin named Jeff, who had spectacularly awful hair, and the hat brought him to life. There was also a large, rather creepy puppet named Sam who was something like a security guard. He had a huge mustache and the sleepy eyes and red nose of a career alcoholic. The character I liked was Muffy the mouse. She had the coolest little tiny apartment in a tiny building with a tiny elevator, and all of these little bitty clothes and accessories and even a little bitty motorcycle. I wanted all of her stuff very badly (for one of my favorite toys, a 5-inch tall stuffed cat named Crinklebine). Although in retrospect Muffy was a little creepy looking as well. I don't remember any specific plots but I do remember that even though I knew it was coming it creeped the hell out of me when Jeff came to life.
Aw, hell. Why am I blogging about this before bed? I'm going to have psychotic dreams about the evil plastic people. Plotting malicious deeds under cover of night, locked in their stores, their limbs unnaturally shiny - some missing appendages and bearing metal rods instead of hands, their harsh faces frozen, cold dead eyes fixed on a target in the distance, some with sloppily painted hair molded to their perfectly rounded skulls, others with hastily styled wigs hanging lifelessly from their heads, hard lips locked together, impossibly proportioned torsos straining forward, ready to lean in, to push, to crush, to strangle, to press in, smother, suffocate, violate, kill...
Crimeny. Nick was right - I am action-packed with issues. But you know what? When the mannequins rebel and unite and attempt a takeover, I'll be ready with a sawed-off shotgun and my daddy's Ruger, shooting their plastic noggins off.
Maybe I should see my therapist twice a week.