THE FRANTIC FLICKER
"The movie magazine that isn't..."
----Serving nonsense on a golden platter since 2004.----
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Issue #20: July 30, 2004
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
www.franticflicker.com
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"The dynamite factory had worked overtime for the last year, having produced enough
dynamite to equal one-one hundredth of an atom bomb."
- Steve Martin, from the story "Dynamite King" in CRUEL SHOES.
IN THIS ISSUE:
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
==>Another Anniversary? But I Thought We Just...
==>Swimming Pool
==>Superatomic Giveaway of the Week
==>Whodunnit?
ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY? BUT I THOUGHT WE JUST...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Yeah, yeah, we did. Ten or twelve (Fourteen? Fifteen?) weeks ago. They stack up pretty good
here in the early days. Welcome, friends and fiends alike, to blockbuster issue number
TWENTY of that squirmy anti-paragon of respectable film criticism, good taste, and accessible
literature, THE FRANTIC FLICKER.
Yeah, it's been a long slow ride to the top. But we made it! As I write to you now, there are
several exciting projects in the preliminary stages, including a "Frantic Flicker Fifty Frickin'
Seconds" on Tuesday editions of Entertainment Tonight, a Frantic Flicker edition of Trivial
Pursuit (instead of wedges and pies, you slide plastic thought bubbles into slots in a replica of
a diseased brain), and of course, there's the feature length Disney animated version of my life
entitled simply "FLICK" featuring the voices of Gilbert Gottfried as me, Ethan Hawke as my
dog Rocky, and John Travolta as the villain of the piece, Bob Hope. My wife-to-be plays herself
(although Brooke Burke tried out, she just wasn't right for the part). I'm not really involved
anymore, but from what I've heard, this last project has gone way over budget - something
about them trying to animate my hair right. I'm also appearing in commercials, reminding folks
to get their pets neutered.
While none of the projects I've just mentioned are actually actual, they are (by virtue of the
fact that they're mentioned here) technically in the preliminary stages of development. But
even if you insist on talking about the larger scheme of things, the "real world" if you will,
we're still doing pretty well. We made it to issue #20.
Okay, so after the opening sequence, where Bob Hope steals my soul at age four, right as I
vow revenge ("No, it's NOT funny. That was my soul, you creep! I'll get you for this!"), the
main titles start, in white on black, like so:
First the screen is filled with a giant
F, then the next 2 letters together
LI, then the others separately
C, then
K., and finally put them all together and what does that spell? Hmm.. it's sort of subliminal.
This could work for the ad campaign, too.
The key is to capitalize on the fact that the movie crosses all boundaries, and is meant for all
people everywhere. In the simplest terms possible, then, like "me Tarzan, you Jane," the tag
line could just be FLICK YOU! It's might be a bit archaic for Disney, but at least it will generate
some publicity.
Eric
This week's story is about one of everyone's favorite summertime activities (or it would be if
you were watching Family Feud). That's right, swimming. And if you're not near an ocean or a
lake (or a river or a bay...), it's tough to swim without a...
SWIMMING POOL
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Outside the supermarket, Alvin saw a couple of kids on dirt bikes. They couldn't have been
more than eleven or twelve, but the expressions on their faces made them look like old men.
Alvin thought they must have some pretty heavy stuff going on to look like that. Then again,
his childhood hadn't been all cheesecake and devil dogs, either. He thought of that now, the
whole thing with Joe and Teddy. These kids on the bikes could almost be them, if they were
dressed the way kids had dressed when he was young.
His mind dragged him back to that day, the day he'd lost his comb, that day at the swimming
pool. The supermarket hadn't even been there then. None of that stuff had been. Just the
train tracks and trees and a wide open field all the way to the old neighborhood.
It was just a hole really, less than ten feet deep, a twenty foot square edged with railroad
ties. The railroad folks had dug it to put something in (or maybe they'd taken something out,
who knew?) and left it right there. No one knew if it was from rain or not, but it was always
full of water, and the neighborhood kids would go there to swim. The water was cold, and
smelled like the railroad, sort of oily and bad. Maybe it was tar or charcoal, or just dirt, but
there was no way you could so much as dip your big toe into the swimming pool without it
coming out covered in grit.
It was almost dark. As Alvin loaded his groceries into the car, he heard one of the kids by the
edge of the building yell: "That's 'cause you're a puss!" The other kid responded, but it was
too low to hear. Alvin watched as they continued their back and forth, with the smaller kid
seeming to rationalize, trying to get out of something the other one wanted him to do. They
both looked around to see if anyone was watching, and Alvin pretended to go about his
business, but he didn't take his eyes off of them. After a couple of seconds, they headed back
behind the building.
Alvin's mom had hated the whole idea, and had forbidden him to go. He'd made it in a few
times anyway, but the water always gave him away: not only would it cover your skin in a sort
of gritty film, it would permanently stain your underwear gray, like you'd washed it with new
black socks. Alvin had gotten in trouble every time he went in.
All at once he knew where the kids must be going. What else was behind the supermarket?
He shoved the rest of the groceries into the trunk and drove back to the loading dock. There
was no sign of them, just a mostly empty employee parking lot and a fence. If memory
combined with logic to serve the truth, it shouldn't be far to the pool. Maybe fifty yards. No,
that was crazy. It would be long gone. Why would a place like that still be there? Especially
after what had happened...
Alvin parked the car. He clenched his teeth. He was just going to have to go back there and
find out.
Joe was Teddy's older brother. Alvin had been friends with both of them since his family had
moved in. Their mom worked, and their dad was gone, and they would be at the swimming
pool every day of the summer, to say nothing of spring and fall, and sliding across it in the
winter.
But that summer had been different. Teddy had ratted Joe out over some dirty magazines
they'd found in the woods, and both of them were grounded for a month. Their mom would
call at various intervals during the day, and if no one answered, there would be hell to pay
when she got home. They were smart kids, though (at least smarter than their mom gave
them credit for), and before long, Joe and Teddy figured out the pattern to her calls, and were
finally able to devise that on one day in particular, she wasn't going to call at all. That was
that day. The day Alvin lost his comb.
Between the lights from the back of the supermarket and the slow-fading daylight, he could
see well enough. He tried to be quiet; after all, he didn't want to scare the kids, just to see if
the swimming pool was still there. The kids themselves didn't matter to him at all; probably
just some routine introduction to substance abuse. Alvin found the trail almost instantly, and
recognized the place as one he'd been familiar with twenty years ago.
It wasn't that combs were expensive. It was just that it had been an official barbershop comb
that his dad had bought him at the actual barbershop. He carried it in his back pocket, and if
the occasion ever arose to use it, well, he never actually did use it, but it was the principle of
the thing. He was proud of the comb. Joe was already swimming, and they were trying to get
Alvin to go. Teddy was probably just trying to get back on Joe's good side after the
pornography debacle. Otherwise, he never would have taken it.
Alvin felt less comforted than he thought he would to see the place again. From the trees he
could make out the shapes of the kids sitting on the railroad ties that made up the edge of
the swimming pool. Rush hour was two hours over, and except for their voices, everything
was quiet.
"It's creepy here."
"Yeah, I know."
"I like it sorta though."
"A kid died here one time. Or wait, yeah, it was two of them."
"You're full of crap, too."
"My uncle told me. One kid drowned and the other one just got killed by a murderer or
something."
Alvin stepped out into the open. "It was a long time ago," he said. Both of the kids breathed
out quickly, and stood up, but they didn't run away.
"I'm sorry, did I scare you guys?"
"Yeah."
"We're not doing anything, we were just..."
"It's okay. Lighten up. I was a kid once, too," said Alvin. He walked over to the edge of the
swimming pool, about ten feet from the two boys. "When I was a kid, we used to go
swimming in here."
"How deep is it?"
Alvin looked down into the pool. He wondered if his comb was still down there. "I dunno. Not
all that deep. Probably eight feet. Something like that."
"Do you know that story about the kids?"
"Yeah."
"Will you tell us?"
Alvin sighed. "Yeah, okay." He kicked a rock into the pool. The splash brought it all back.
"They were brothers. One of them got hurt and fell in the water. The other one died trying to
save him."
"What happened to the first kid?"
"He got hurt and fell in the water."
"What kind of hurt?"
Alvin squinted at the kids in the dark. There was no reason not to tell them the truth. "He
threw my comb in the water, and I threw him in."
"Screw this," said the smaller kid, and then he was scampering away into the blackness,
"Come on!" But the other kid stood his ground.
Alvin smiled as he continued. "I was as scared as they were. He hit his head on one of the
ties. His brother tried to save him, and they tried to get up, but..." He shook his head. "I
was... I just didn't want to get in trouble for going in there. I didn't want to go in there. My
mom would've gone crazy."
The kid stood there looking at Alvin, and neither of them said anything. Somewhere, a car
drove past.
"Aren't you scared, too?" Alvin said. The kid stayed quiet. "You know, like your friend?"
"He's not scared," said the kid. "Are you?"
"Yeah." said Alvin. "I really am."
The kid walked closer to Alvin, and handed him something in the dark. "Here, I found this. I
think it's yours."
"Yeah, thanks. I was wondering what happened to it." Alvin said. He heard the rush of small
feet behind him, and turned around just in time for the push. The water was just like he'd
remembered.
THE END
Brrrr. A bit on the chilly side. Anyway, there's also a crazy art house movie out called
Swimming Pool, and I can't help but recommend it. Sure it's a 'regular' movie, more or less, but
in how many regular movies do you get to see a naked woman beat someone in the head
with a rock? Probably not more than four or five in the last couple of years. The whole thing's
really worth checking out.
SUPERATOMIC GIVEAWAY OF THE WEEK
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Part of my whole reason for being here is to expose people to cool and/or weird stuff that
they might not otherwise know about, and one of the main ways I want to do that is by giving
stuff away for free.
LAST WEEK: Actually, we missed last week (again), but the week before my intention was to
give away a DVD of Stuart Gordon's creep-fest classic CASTLE FREAK. And the winner is...drum
roll please...
buddabuddabuddabuddabuddabudda
You're fired.
The winner is...
STEFAN JOHNSON of Williamson, WV, who said:
"I think there's SUPPOSED to be a sequel to 'Resident Evil,' but I can care less."
Well, if that's the way you feel about it, I'm glad I'm not giving away a copy of Resident Evil. I
thought Resident Evil was alright, and the first trailers for the sequel (the phony Umbrella
Corp. ads) were pretty righteous. I try to save most of my dislike for romantic comedies and
big budget action stuff, but sometimes a little slips through to a crappy sci-fi/ horror movie or
two (House of the Dead was pretty bad), so I can see where you're coming from.
THIS WEEK: This week's prize is NOT a copy of Swimming Pool. Instead, it's a cleaning out the
closet, 20th anniversary issue special: a pressbook from the 1975 Paul Naschy-starring
thriller...
HOUSE OF PSYCHOTIC WOMEN!
"They're HELL-ON-EARTH with LOVE-LUSTS and BLOOD-LUSTS that will SHOCK YOU OUT OF
YOUR SEAT and mind!"
The front is a color 11" x 17" poster (the same as the one-sheet), and inside are a synopsis of
the movie, and different sized newspaper ads. It's not perfect, but in very displayable shape
and very cool. I had this hanging on the wall for a while, and got many compliments on it.
There WILL be a picture of it on the website this week, so keep checking in if it's not there yet.
To enter, send an e-mail to superatomic@franticflicker.com. Put your NAME (first and last) and
ADDRESS in the BODY of the e-mail, and use the SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD in a
COMPLETE SENTENCE as the SUBJECT line. Your information will not be used for any other
purpose.
The SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD for this week is... (gotta subscribe to find out).
Visit the superatomic section of the website (www.franticflicker.com/superatomic) for complete
rules, more details and a photo of this week's prize (yes, really and truly). Contest ends late
Thursday night, August 5, 2004 (if the message says Friday, that's too late Thursday night),
and the winner will be contacted by e-mail and announced on the site on Friday (or ASAP).
By entering, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older. US or Canadian entrants only,
please.
WHODUNNIT
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Written, compiled, researched, edited and published by yours truly, King Boss Man Eric
Henderson! Thanks for reading it!
Big shouts out to all the Flicker readers (and friends) I owe letters to - you know who you are!
The official Frantic Flicker website is in a state of perpetual limbo rock. I think that means it
needs an update, but that could happen at any time. How low can you go? Find out at:
www.franticflicker.com
If you have any questions or comments, pass 'em on to: eric@franticflicker.com. If you don't
want me to print your letter, let me know. I'll talk at you again next week. Until then, try to
stay out of trouble!
Eric
All content copyright 2004 Eric Henderson. All rights reserved, but feel free to forward this
e-mail or link to my home page. Thanks.
To SUBSCRIBE, visit www.franticflicker.com. To UNSUBSCRIBE, follow the autoresponder
instructions below.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
THE LIVING END
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"The movie magazine that isn't..."
----Serving nonsense on a golden platter since 2004.----
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Issue #20: July 30, 2004
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
www.franticflicker.com
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"The dynamite factory had worked overtime for the last year, having produced enough
dynamite to equal one-one hundredth of an atom bomb."
- Steve Martin, from the story "Dynamite King" in CRUEL SHOES.
IN THIS ISSUE:
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
==>Another Anniversary? But I Thought We Just...
==>Swimming Pool
==>Superatomic Giveaway of the Week
==>Whodunnit?
ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY? BUT I THOUGHT WE JUST...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Yeah, yeah, we did. Ten or twelve (Fourteen? Fifteen?) weeks ago. They stack up pretty good
here in the early days. Welcome, friends and fiends alike, to blockbuster issue number
TWENTY of that squirmy anti-paragon of respectable film criticism, good taste, and accessible
literature, THE FRANTIC FLICKER.
Yeah, it's been a long slow ride to the top. But we made it! As I write to you now, there are
several exciting projects in the preliminary stages, including a "Frantic Flicker Fifty Frickin'
Seconds" on Tuesday editions of Entertainment Tonight, a Frantic Flicker edition of Trivial
Pursuit (instead of wedges and pies, you slide plastic thought bubbles into slots in a replica of
a diseased brain), and of course, there's the feature length Disney animated version of my life
entitled simply "FLICK" featuring the voices of Gilbert Gottfried as me, Ethan Hawke as my
dog Rocky, and John Travolta as the villain of the piece, Bob Hope. My wife-to-be plays herself
(although Brooke Burke tried out, she just wasn't right for the part). I'm not really involved
anymore, but from what I've heard, this last project has gone way over budget - something
about them trying to animate my hair right. I'm also appearing in commercials, reminding folks
to get their pets neutered.
While none of the projects I've just mentioned are actually actual, they are (by virtue of the
fact that they're mentioned here) technically in the preliminary stages of development. But
even if you insist on talking about the larger scheme of things, the "real world" if you will,
we're still doing pretty well. We made it to issue #20.
Okay, so after the opening sequence, where Bob Hope steals my soul at age four, right as I
vow revenge ("No, it's NOT funny. That was my soul, you creep! I'll get you for this!"), the
main titles start, in white on black, like so:
First the screen is filled with a giant
F, then the next 2 letters together
LI, then the others separately
C, then
K., and finally put them all together and what does that spell? Hmm.. it's sort of subliminal.
This could work for the ad campaign, too.
The key is to capitalize on the fact that the movie crosses all boundaries, and is meant for all
people everywhere. In the simplest terms possible, then, like "me Tarzan, you Jane," the tag
line could just be FLICK YOU! It's might be a bit archaic for Disney, but at least it will generate
some publicity.
Eric
This week's story is about one of everyone's favorite summertime activities (or it would be if
you were watching Family Feud). That's right, swimming. And if you're not near an ocean or a
lake (or a river or a bay...), it's tough to swim without a...
SWIMMING POOL
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Outside the supermarket, Alvin saw a couple of kids on dirt bikes. They couldn't have been
more than eleven or twelve, but the expressions on their faces made them look like old men.
Alvin thought they must have some pretty heavy stuff going on to look like that. Then again,
his childhood hadn't been all cheesecake and devil dogs, either. He thought of that now, the
whole thing with Joe and Teddy. These kids on the bikes could almost be them, if they were
dressed the way kids had dressed when he was young.
His mind dragged him back to that day, the day he'd lost his comb, that day at the swimming
pool. The supermarket hadn't even been there then. None of that stuff had been. Just the
train tracks and trees and a wide open field all the way to the old neighborhood.
It was just a hole really, less than ten feet deep, a twenty foot square edged with railroad
ties. The railroad folks had dug it to put something in (or maybe they'd taken something out,
who knew?) and left it right there. No one knew if it was from rain or not, but it was always
full of water, and the neighborhood kids would go there to swim. The water was cold, and
smelled like the railroad, sort of oily and bad. Maybe it was tar or charcoal, or just dirt, but
there was no way you could so much as dip your big toe into the swimming pool without it
coming out covered in grit.
It was almost dark. As Alvin loaded his groceries into the car, he heard one of the kids by the
edge of the building yell: "That's 'cause you're a puss!" The other kid responded, but it was
too low to hear. Alvin watched as they continued their back and forth, with the smaller kid
seeming to rationalize, trying to get out of something the other one wanted him to do. They
both looked around to see if anyone was watching, and Alvin pretended to go about his
business, but he didn't take his eyes off of them. After a couple of seconds, they headed back
behind the building.
Alvin's mom had hated the whole idea, and had forbidden him to go. He'd made it in a few
times anyway, but the water always gave him away: not only would it cover your skin in a sort
of gritty film, it would permanently stain your underwear gray, like you'd washed it with new
black socks. Alvin had gotten in trouble every time he went in.
All at once he knew where the kids must be going. What else was behind the supermarket?
He shoved the rest of the groceries into the trunk and drove back to the loading dock. There
was no sign of them, just a mostly empty employee parking lot and a fence. If memory
combined with logic to serve the truth, it shouldn't be far to the pool. Maybe fifty yards. No,
that was crazy. It would be long gone. Why would a place like that still be there? Especially
after what had happened...
Alvin parked the car. He clenched his teeth. He was just going to have to go back there and
find out.
Joe was Teddy's older brother. Alvin had been friends with both of them since his family had
moved in. Their mom worked, and their dad was gone, and they would be at the swimming
pool every day of the summer, to say nothing of spring and fall, and sliding across it in the
winter.
But that summer had been different. Teddy had ratted Joe out over some dirty magazines
they'd found in the woods, and both of them were grounded for a month. Their mom would
call at various intervals during the day, and if no one answered, there would be hell to pay
when she got home. They were smart kids, though (at least smarter than their mom gave
them credit for), and before long, Joe and Teddy figured out the pattern to her calls, and were
finally able to devise that on one day in particular, she wasn't going to call at all. That was
that day. The day Alvin lost his comb.
Between the lights from the back of the supermarket and the slow-fading daylight, he could
see well enough. He tried to be quiet; after all, he didn't want to scare the kids, just to see if
the swimming pool was still there. The kids themselves didn't matter to him at all; probably
just some routine introduction to substance abuse. Alvin found the trail almost instantly, and
recognized the place as one he'd been familiar with twenty years ago.
It wasn't that combs were expensive. It was just that it had been an official barbershop comb
that his dad had bought him at the actual barbershop. He carried it in his back pocket, and if
the occasion ever arose to use it, well, he never actually did use it, but it was the principle of
the thing. He was proud of the comb. Joe was already swimming, and they were trying to get
Alvin to go. Teddy was probably just trying to get back on Joe's good side after the
pornography debacle. Otherwise, he never would have taken it.
Alvin felt less comforted than he thought he would to see the place again. From the trees he
could make out the shapes of the kids sitting on the railroad ties that made up the edge of
the swimming pool. Rush hour was two hours over, and except for their voices, everything
was quiet.
"It's creepy here."
"Yeah, I know."
"I like it sorta though."
"A kid died here one time. Or wait, yeah, it was two of them."
"You're full of crap, too."
"My uncle told me. One kid drowned and the other one just got killed by a murderer or
something."
Alvin stepped out into the open. "It was a long time ago," he said. Both of the kids breathed
out quickly, and stood up, but they didn't run away.
"I'm sorry, did I scare you guys?"
"Yeah."
"We're not doing anything, we were just..."
"It's okay. Lighten up. I was a kid once, too," said Alvin. He walked over to the edge of the
swimming pool, about ten feet from the two boys. "When I was a kid, we used to go
swimming in here."
"How deep is it?"
Alvin looked down into the pool. He wondered if his comb was still down there. "I dunno. Not
all that deep. Probably eight feet. Something like that."
"Do you know that story about the kids?"
"Yeah."
"Will you tell us?"
Alvin sighed. "Yeah, okay." He kicked a rock into the pool. The splash brought it all back.
"They were brothers. One of them got hurt and fell in the water. The other one died trying to
save him."
"What happened to the first kid?"
"He got hurt and fell in the water."
"What kind of hurt?"
Alvin squinted at the kids in the dark. There was no reason not to tell them the truth. "He
threw my comb in the water, and I threw him in."
"Screw this," said the smaller kid, and then he was scampering away into the blackness,
"Come on!" But the other kid stood his ground.
Alvin smiled as he continued. "I was as scared as they were. He hit his head on one of the
ties. His brother tried to save him, and they tried to get up, but..." He shook his head. "I
was... I just didn't want to get in trouble for going in there. I didn't want to go in there. My
mom would've gone crazy."
The kid stood there looking at Alvin, and neither of them said anything. Somewhere, a car
drove past.
"Aren't you scared, too?" Alvin said. The kid stayed quiet. "You know, like your friend?"
"He's not scared," said the kid. "Are you?"
"Yeah." said Alvin. "I really am."
The kid walked closer to Alvin, and handed him something in the dark. "Here, I found this. I
think it's yours."
"Yeah, thanks. I was wondering what happened to it." Alvin said. He heard the rush of small
feet behind him, and turned around just in time for the push. The water was just like he'd
remembered.
THE END
Brrrr. A bit on the chilly side. Anyway, there's also a crazy art house movie out called
Swimming Pool, and I can't help but recommend it. Sure it's a 'regular' movie, more or less, but
in how many regular movies do you get to see a naked woman beat someone in the head
with a rock? Probably not more than four or five in the last couple of years. The whole thing's
really worth checking out.
SUPERATOMIC GIVEAWAY OF THE WEEK
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Part of my whole reason for being here is to expose people to cool and/or weird stuff that
they might not otherwise know about, and one of the main ways I want to do that is by giving
stuff away for free.
LAST WEEK: Actually, we missed last week (again), but the week before my intention was to
give away a DVD of Stuart Gordon's creep-fest classic CASTLE FREAK. And the winner is...drum
roll please...
buddabuddabuddabuddabuddabudda
You're fired.
The winner is...
STEFAN JOHNSON of Williamson, WV, who said:
"I think there's SUPPOSED to be a sequel to 'Resident Evil,' but I can care less."
Well, if that's the way you feel about it, I'm glad I'm not giving away a copy of Resident Evil. I
thought Resident Evil was alright, and the first trailers for the sequel (the phony Umbrella
Corp. ads) were pretty righteous. I try to save most of my dislike for romantic comedies and
big budget action stuff, but sometimes a little slips through to a crappy sci-fi/ horror movie or
two (House of the Dead was pretty bad), so I can see where you're coming from.
THIS WEEK: This week's prize is NOT a copy of Swimming Pool. Instead, it's a cleaning out the
closet, 20th anniversary issue special: a pressbook from the 1975 Paul Naschy-starring
thriller...
HOUSE OF PSYCHOTIC WOMEN!
"They're HELL-ON-EARTH with LOVE-LUSTS and BLOOD-LUSTS that will SHOCK YOU OUT OF
YOUR SEAT and mind!"
The front is a color 11" x 17" poster (the same as the one-sheet), and inside are a synopsis of
the movie, and different sized newspaper ads. It's not perfect, but in very displayable shape
and very cool. I had this hanging on the wall for a while, and got many compliments on it.
There WILL be a picture of it on the website this week, so keep checking in if it's not there yet.
To enter, send an e-mail to superatomic@franticflicker.com. Put your NAME (first and last) and
ADDRESS in the BODY of the e-mail, and use the SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD in a
COMPLETE SENTENCE as the SUBJECT line. Your information will not be used for any other
purpose.
The SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD for this week is... (gotta subscribe to find out).
Visit the superatomic section of the website (www.franticflicker.com/superatomic) for complete
rules, more details and a photo of this week's prize (yes, really and truly). Contest ends late
Thursday night, August 5, 2004 (if the message says Friday, that's too late Thursday night),
and the winner will be contacted by e-mail and announced on the site on Friday (or ASAP).
By entering, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older. US or Canadian entrants only,
please.
WHODUNNIT
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Written, compiled, researched, edited and published by yours truly, King Boss Man Eric
Henderson! Thanks for reading it!
Big shouts out to all the Flicker readers (and friends) I owe letters to - you know who you are!
The official Frantic Flicker website is in a state of perpetual limbo rock. I think that means it
needs an update, but that could happen at any time. How low can you go? Find out at:
www.franticflicker.com
If you have any questions or comments, pass 'em on to: eric@franticflicker.com. If you don't
want me to print your letter, let me know. I'll talk at you again next week. Until then, try to
stay out of trouble!
Eric
All content copyright 2004 Eric Henderson. All rights reserved, but feel free to forward this
e-mail or link to my home page. Thanks.
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instructions below.
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THE LIVING END
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The Frantic Flicker
Issue #20: Swimming Pool