F. P. Dorchak

Speculative Fiction (New Weird) Author

Leisure

Zombies v. The Undead

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Tales from the Crypt (book)
Tales from the Crypt (book) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Okay, there’s this big craze over zombies (you know they’re big when they’re used in public service announcements and have their own “Zombie 5K“), and while I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing—I personally have nothing against zombies, like I do the overworked, beslutted, and “reimagined” vampire craze—I feel I need to make a differentiation, here, between “zombies” and…the “undead.”

Really, you ask?

Yes. There is a difference. At least to me, and I’m sure some will take opposition to it, but I assure you, I am only sticking to the “facts” as they prove my argument.

Cause, I am a fan of…The Great Undead.

You see, zombies…are alive…but are rendered monster-like through some sort of introduced agent, like a really really bad flu, a government-generated virus, voo doo whoop-de-doo, or cubicle-office work. Of course, many ignore the original zombie, as characterized in, say, the 1932 movie, White Zombie, where there is an Evil VooDoo Master pulling the puppet strings (there are other origins, see this link). I find that link interestingly tagged with “(fictional),” though know of the evils of tetrodotoxin and and The Serpent and the Rainbow discussion of “zombies.” Anyway, today’s versions are independent and hungry. They hunger for flesh, especially the much-prized delicacy of brains.

Zombies can be stopped: a simple penetration of their brains, brings their reign of horror to a quick, ignoble, end.

Now, the “undead,” on the other hand, are supernaturally reawakened corpses that crawl out from their graves and stumble around with no particular need for flesh, brains, or anything else, short of scaring and killing. Real spooky stuff. The undead can’t really be stopped (not in and of themselves, anyway)…unless you terminate whatever it is that reanimated them, or they completed their deed. You may decapitate them, but they just keep on coming. Incinerating them would take them out, I suppose, because of the near-total destruction, but still, I wonder….

And they don’t eat anything.

You see, the dead can’t eat.

Just like real vampires (and I prefer “vampyre” but these are not real vampyres…) have no frigging SEX DRIVE. No EMOTION.

Why?

BECAUSE THEY’RE DEAD.

Yes, dead, people. Did that fact escape everybody but me?

How can dead things have any kind of appetite, and how can they have sex? How can they enter into frigging relationships and pine over humans?!

Oh, “magic,” you say, because, well, how can the dead come back to life, anyway? That’s magic, too!, you cry. It is!

It’s fake magic.

Yesss, there I said it. Fake. Magic. Call me old school on the matter, but the whole “Twilight” thing rolls off my back like blood off an undead duck’s coat. I just can’t get into the displaced Human drives and appetites on the undead and their strikingly good looks. I’m constantly distracted thinking, strike a pose!

Twilight and True Blood “vampires” are just people with fangs.

Where’s the scary in that?

The spooky?

From what I’ve seen, “those kinds” of “vampires (which are undead—did I mention that?) are there to emote, and exhibit graphic violence and sex. Which we get where…?

Anyone?

We get that in any ShowTime or HBO show.

Again (important digressive point, here): today’s vampires are just people with fangs.

Okay, reanimating my thrust, here, so…zombies. While I am a huge Night of the Living Dead fan, I have, however, been more into the rising-from-the-grave-undead-by-supernatural-means more (I’ve always been into the supernatural, not the gore, but the etherial, the elemental, that which comes from beyond)…like Tales From The Crypt creepy, and any mummy movie (a fan of the Karloff versions as well as the Fraser versions). That’s where my favorites, uh, lie (even if “lay” is the proper word, not gonna use it with the undead; I’m not interested in “laying” any undead…).

So, I just wanted to clear this little distinction up. You know, to give the undead their due.

Man, I feel so much better now. Been wanting to do that for years. I can now crawl back into my own grave….

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Cemetery Dance

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"Graves," Arlington National Cemetery, VA, 1990
“Graves,” Arlington National Cemetery, VA, 1990

What is it about cemeteries that draws us to their hallowed grounds?

Yeah, I know, “they just can’t stay away,” and are….

But, really, what is the allure?

Once you get past the well-manicured state of most cemeteries, the beautiful landscaping…what really draws our fascination?

I admit to visiting them. I find them calming. I also don’t believe that when we die, that’s it—in any sense of the word. I believe in quite the active “afterlife.” When I stroll through them I wonder about the all the lives that have been lived—and I’m excited for their souls. In my eyes they are now moving on to other things with the consciousnesses that had once inhabited those “vehicles of life.” Hopefully, I like to think, they have learned something useful from their lives to apply to other lives they’ll live, or move on beyond reincarnational existence (I actually believe in simultaneous lives, but let’s not go there now).

I’ve tried to explain my own curiosity around graveyards to myself, but, in the end (pardon the pun), I’m not quite sure what really got the interest going—maybe it is as simple as life’s “beginning and ending points,” which do fascinate me, or that death really isn’t the end, or how people die as well as how they live—I’m just not quite sure.

And when you get into the “atmosphere” of graveyards, especially the more established and older ones which I prefer to roam, their leafy trees and old, old buried dead, is it all the years of watching spooky movies? We all do seem to have some measure of inherent “joy of fear,” especially for fear that is removed and not really in our faces, as we watch from living rooms and theater seats. Read books we can put down. But where many cemeteries are built, they are usually at places I like to frequent—full of large, flowing deciduous trees tossing in the breezes, they’re quiet. Calm. Lawns are well-kept. Who wouldn’t one like to stroll through such an area, short of the realization you’re walking over, well, many, many, uh…dead bodies….

So, maybe it does have to do with a little or a lot of all of the above. But I do marvel at the lives lived and wonder how they fared…how they birthed…how they died. How they loved and strove. What kind of people were they? Were they kind? Giving? Hard working? Fun loving? Love the artistry in effort, whether a little or a lot, that went into making the headstones. Headstones say a lot about the dead over which they rest. How well liked they were, how affluent they or somebody who cared for them were. What material was available, what skills. “The sign of the times.”

Are they kept up?

Who’s keeping them up?

Some even show a sense of humor…irony:

“Quod tu es, ego fui, quod ego sum, tu eris”

The above phrase is said to go back to ancient Roman times, and is included in the more modern version most are probably more familiar with:

Remember me as you pass by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now so you will be

Prepare for death and follow me

And, in all my journeys, I’ve never (to my knowledge) seen any ghosts among the dead—and I’ve tried. Asked for some to present themselves. Never once. Now I have seen ghosts, but not of the human variety, so I know I’m capable of it.

One note: included in the pictures below is a “mummified” human forearm. That photo was taken in a small (at the time) museum in the back of local shop, on the road into Sharpsburg, MD. It was on the left side of the road, as driving up from Alexandria, VA. There was a small article attached to the glass, thought I’d taken a picture of it, but I didn’t find it. What I remember of the article was that the arm was thought to have come from the battle of Antietam, that it looked to have “flash fried” as it was blown off its owner. I forget the rest of the details, or where it was found, maybe when an building was being excavated? Just don’t remember. But it was creepy, and, once again, rammed home the horrors of war.

Okay, originally, I was going to include more photos of other cemeteries, but once I scanned in the set, below, I thought, these look so cool on their own, give off such a great, creepy, atmosphere, I have to keep them by themselves. Like my previous post, all the shots in this post were taken with film, then scanned. I love how they came out. And these are just the ones I could find, I know I have more. I might do another post for other cemeteries, but for now, I’m keeping the “Cemetery Row” work (Alexandria, Virginia, back in 1990), below on its own, with a few from Sharpsburg, Maryland (Antietam Battlefield, same 1990 timeframe) as their own post.

So…what better time to revisit and share some of my favorite cemeteries than during the haunting month of October?

Enjoy.

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Fear

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You're Mine.... (@Doug88888)
You’re Mine…. (@Doug88888)

Since this is October, and I really love Hallowe’en, I’m going to try to get more into the, um, spirit of things more this year. For the rest of the month, I’m going to make a better attempt at posting all-things Hallowe’en and spooky. I love spooky. Not gory and graphic (though excuse my prose poem, below…), but “old-school spooky.” Atmospheric. If I get my way, I’ll post some cool cemetery shots I’ve taken (if I can get them scanned; see, I think I have some great shots from Alexandria, VA area, but they were before the advent of the digital camera….), some favorite spooky movies, reads, monsters. So, we’ll see how that goes. In the meantime, here’s a prose poem I penned years ago, and which had been published only once, in a now-defunct Canadian magazine, called Tyro. I changed one word in posting it this time: “of” to “for,” in the second line, second stanza.

Fear

It was the Devil’s own pitch,

a darkness utterly corrupt and vile.

 

I couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear a thing,

The silence absolute—except for that internal ringing sound.

 

I turned, slowly.

The only way I could know this,

was by the steps my feet made over each other.

 

That’s when I came face to face with it,

teeth ripping my face apart…

© 1989, Originally appeared in Tyro, issue #19.

The Animal

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The Animal: The Dyson DC39, Radial Root Cyclone™ Canister Vacuum
The Animal: The Dyson DC39, Radial Root Cyclone™ Canister Vacuum

And by “The Animal,” I mean the Dyson DC39 Animal, 275 AW, Ball™ technology, Radial Root Cyclone, HEPA filtered, canister vacuum cleaner.

Anyone remember Tim The Tool Man Taylor and his trademark simian-like grunts?

Well, earlier this year, we got one—and at a pretty good discount from Sears, of all places—and this bad boy mamajamma really gets the business done. I mean, it really makes you wanna vacuum.

I jest not.

Guys are somewhat visually oriented. Sometimes we’re also, well…a little “thick” when it comes to certain things.

Like vacuuming.

When my wife and I do the housecleaning, we divide up the duties. I get the honor of vacuuming. Now, I have to admit, I’ve kinda always liked “making things come clean,” I know, it’s a weird thing and some may beg to differ…but it’s true. I’m not obsessive at all about it (some may heartily agree here…), but I have my moments. Well, when informed that I really should vacuum every other week—perhaps even every week—I kinda, um—balked. Yes, balked.  We used one a those “closed canister” vacuums before…The Animal.

We’ll never go back.

One day, I thought, okay, I’ll vacuum the “every other week,” and I’ll see just how much is picked up by the Dyson DC39.  You see, folks, The Animal has a see-through canister, where you can actually see the dirt pile up, and—bonus!—it spins around really, really fast!  So, in essence, it’s kinda like a video game! And…since guys are largely visual in nature, we get to see the actual fruits of our labor—not to mention the 275 AW Ball™ and Radial Root Cyclone technologies—in action!

<cue Tim The Tool Man Taylor trademark simian grunt!>

Now, when I first grabbed hold of this bad boy, my first impression was not immediate love. It’s made of light plastic (it’s only 22.9 pounds). If you’re not flexin’ and strainin’ your muscles under the heft of at least a 30-pound slug, why bother, right? Where’s the substance to the equipment? But I have to say, it’s light for a reason, and that reason makes it easier to handle for those not ape-strong for the more anchor-weighted machines of yore. But, what really got my attention, and fast, what really absolutely, positively hooked me was its ability to pick up animal hair—pa-ronto. This thing is engineered to pick up animal hair and dander, and this baby delivers. What used to take me, say, 15 minutes…now takes me less than 5.

And when I checked the canister after just one room…the canister was full.

That means that what I’d thought was clean from my previous vacuuming was a bald-faced lie.

It wasn’t clean. Not even remotely.

But I discovered another fact: it was actually fun vacuuming with this piece of haut technology, cause it was so badass. It was quieter, faster, and easier. I could see the dirt…whipping around in the canister. It was now like I wanted the house to be dirty—really dirty—the dirtier the better, so I could go around sucking up even more dirt, seeing more dirt swirl around inside the canister, emptying the immediate fruits of my labor.

I…had become…a Hunter of Dirt.

<grunt!>

Me and The Animal against the soils of the world…roaming free on the untamed carpeted (and hardwood-ed) wildlands of domesticated terrain…alone with my thoughts…my hardware…my finely honed senses and skill…and a hungry HEPA filter.

And I was good at it.

I could say I “bagged” more than my limit at every outing—but there is no bag. Just that wonderful, see-through canister (ooh, isn’t she a beauty?).

So, if you can swing it, I highly recommend the Dyson DC39 Animal, 275 AW, Ball™ technology, Radial Root Cyclone, HEPA filtered, canister vacuum.

Carpets shudder with antici…pppa…tion…at its approach.

Class Clown Pictures—Interview with the Head Clown

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Today I’m interviewing one of the founders of a brand new film production company called,  Class Clown Pictures, headquartered in Texas. I’ve known him nearly my entire life. We both came from humble beginnings and have had to hone our wit to a fine and deadly Krav Maga edge on the mean streets of rural America to survive this crazy world, and though we’ve been separated most of our adult lives, I still know things about him, and tonight, I’m gonna dish—I mean interview him. He’s one of the funniest guys around (not the funniest, mind you, but, you know, he can hold his own, and, well, even make some money at it…). Him and the rest of the “two-guys-a-girl-and-no-pizza-place” have formed this company to “make funny movies,” and by “make funny movies,” I mean indie movies, and by “indie movies”  I mean—well…I don’t quite know what I mean, so I’ll let Greg Dorchak, Writer/director/producer/actor, tell his story. Note: when someone has all those positions listed after their name, it either means they’re multi-talented…or they can’t hold a job.

F. P. Dorchak: Good morning.

Greg Dorchak: I thought you just said “toni—”

FP: Now, just for the record and in the interest of full disclosure, you are my brother, correct?

GD: Do I have to be happy with it? No? Then, yes, I’m your brother.

FP: But you’re not my only brother, is that right?

GD: I am, in fact, the only one that matters.

FP: But you’re not my favorite.

GD: Immaterial. Continue.

FP: Who is my favorite brother? Do you know? Say it.

GD: My favorite is Brudda Iz; not sure about yours…but, I’ll bet he ain’t as big as Iz. Was.

FP: Say it. I want to hear you say it.

GD: Fuuuuuuuudddddgggggee. Okay, It’s me.

FP: Nope, you’re wrong—it’s me. So, I hear you’ve created a production company.

GD: Yes ma’am—Class Clown Pictures.

FP: To do what?

GD: Well, I’m married, so “to get chicks” is out. But really, I created it to basically “make funny movies.”

FP: What makes you think you’re qualified?

GD: Meh, who is ever qualified to do anything? However I have been an actor for many years, and a writer, and a director and a cartoonist blah blah blah…I think I know funny when I see it. I did stand-up comedy at 17, then improv, then got into film—I’ve been doing this for a LOT of years.

FP: So, you think you’re funny?

GD: Oh man, and how.

FP: Say something funny.

GD: Your mother.

FP: Really.

GD: Your mother.

FP: I have to admit that I did catch your stand-up act—in Vegas, no less—and loved how you rolled that drunk, afterward.

FP: OK…so, why a duck?  Tell us some more. Who are these “other people” I’ve never seen, and what are their “jobs”? Or are “they” all really just another Hollywood scam so you can pretend “Oooh, I’m a Big Important Producer, now, and you’re just a lowly tech writer….” or “I have a Casting Couch and you just have a widdle wiggly Yoga Chair,” or—

GD: Okaaaay….

GD: Well the other people, Tim and Shara, listed on the site are friends and work acquaintances, and we help each other out. Tim has been in the biz for a long time, he and his two brothers do Grade A special effects and CG (FP: here’s a link for some of their work). I’ve been in two of his films. If you have seen a super hero movie, or a monster movie, or a sword and wizard movie—they probably worked on it. Shara has been a producer for photography shoots, music videos, film, you name it. And we have an extensive network—

FP: And by “network” you mean “slept around”?

GD: —of other industry folk to fill out where we need it. This is Texas—you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting someone in the biz. And we have TRIED.

FP: Fine. Are there any specific types (e.g., slapstick, high brow, toilet humor?) of comedy you intend on making?

GD: Anything with a humorous bent: Romantic comedy, dark comedy, Dramedy, fantasy, family—anything that has a strong comedic/humorous tone.

FP:  Is Steve Martin going to be in any of them?

GD: You know I wanted to get him for one of our other projects—not sure if that will work…but I can has dreams.

FP: I really like Steve Martin.

GD: Me as well.

FP: Steve Martin’s pretty funny.

GD: Comedy is not pretty.

FP: How about Ben Stiller?

GD: Not so much.

FP: C’mon, put Steve in one of your movies!

GD: Give me 30 grand.

FP: You got my fifty bucks, quite whining. And, I’m still waiting on my T-shirt. So, you have any projects in the oven?

GD: Yes—our first one out of the shoot (pun intended) is one that I think a lot of folks can relate to, and so will have a huge following—it deals with one of the perils of home/property ownership: Homeowners’ Associations.

FP: Rat bastards.

GD: Rat bastards.

FP: I hear you like giving wedgies. Can you explain that?

GD: Well it’s like this: every studio out there has to start somewhere—and this is where we are starting. Even big studios have to find money somewhere—they just have more people to go to, plus they have a track record. We are a new company—though we have all been in the biz a long time. We have to prove ourselves, we have to build that track record. And that takes a weensy bit of money to start. I got a chunk of my own cash in it as well.

FP: Why should I give you money before you make the movie?  Doesn’t that seem…backward?

GD: Can I say “LOL” here?

FP: OMG!

GD: There ain’t no movie if there ain’t no money. We have to get the ball rolling. In indie productions, a lot of times if you can sign some name talent to your film, it is easier to attract investors (not to be confused with donations). But to get those actors, you do have to pay them something. That’s why we are asking for financial support at this point in time. You are a writer, yes? You have self-published a book, yes? You self-published to get a book in print to build credibility—for people to see your work. Is it easier to publish a book with or without money?

FP: The literary world ain’t so enamored with “indie” work as is the film world. But, wait a minute—then I’m again supposed to give you money once you make the damn thing? Hey—

GD: Well—ummm…yes…but, indirectly at that point….

FP: You think mom likes you best, don’t you.

GD: She told as much. MANY times.

FP: Well, you’re wrong—it’s Chris. So, tell us about your creative process. Does it really involve a dialog with your hairy-assed navel?

GD: My navel is one of the few people who really understands me. My creative process is really all over the place—like that video on my site (FP: see “Creativity Captured”). Sometimes I will go months with no ideas, then PWAMM, I get a bug up my ass—can I say “bug?”—and I go off at a tear for weeks and weeks. The one thing I can always count on though—is that I will have the ideas, and I will get the thing done.

FP: And that’s why you had Tim and Shara. To pick up your slack. You know, I got to drive the tractor first, when we were kids.

GD: You got to drive the tractor first because dad knew that was the best you were ever going to do. Plus, I played stupid for a reason.

FP: Yeah, and we all know what that “reason” is.

FP: You know, all those bruises you got when we were kids? They weren’t from me. You kept falling into things on your own. And—one time? I saw you hide in a closet and punch yourself in the face. Three times. True story.

GD: You know that time I said Crackers pooped in your pillow case…?

FP: Well, they have a name for “cutting” yourself; they should also have a name for beating yourself….

GD: That was out of line, Senator.  Wait a minute…are we talking about masturbation? Because I told you I thought it was a snake attacking me.

FP: Oooh, Comment approprié: a producer wrestling with his snake. Okay, any parting shots for our audience, Mr. Funny Man?

GD: Visit our site, www.classclownpictures.com—click on the “wedgie” link and please donate and or share the link with your friends and family—it will be so cool when the film comes to be a part of the process—brag to your friends—and when we do make it—we will take care of those who took care of us. Also, my IQ is eight points higher than yours, Frank.

FP: Well, eights point higher than nothing is still…hey, well…it’s been great having you, Bro—I mean, “Mr. Dorchak.” And I am older than you, so I will be looking forward to that “care” you talk about. Anyway, thanks for enduring my hard-hitting, Barbara Walters-like, no-holds-barred interview (Anderson Cooper would be proud). I truly wish you all the best in your Class Clowns Pictures—and I want my T-shirt. XL.

GD: It was fun being here, Frank. This was my very first interview as Head Clown; I hope I didn’t ruin your couch with my tears.

FP: NP. But you kept honking that damned horn during this interview and your big floppy shoes kept gettin’ in the way.

Portions of this interview were pre-recorded. None of the views and opinions expressed in this interview were from anyone important. This interview is not suitable for children nor adults. There is a one day limited warranty on this interview. No horses were hurt in the shooting of this interview, but some feelings might have been. I hope. I used the rototiller when we were kids and he never did. Oooh, he’s such a Big Important Guy, now! Eight points. He’s not smarter than me. He’s such a liar. But he’s funny. I’ve seen his Vegas Stand-up act, he was pretty good. Blah x 3. Copyright today. IMCCVIIX12.

Get Your Monday Laugh On—The Jovers!

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The Jovers, I recently discovered, were an hilarious husband-and-wife vaudeville-style act. When I watched this clip for the first time this past weekend, I laughed so hard my eyes watered! The strength and flexibility of these two are not apparent when you look at them! This clip is of a live performance at the MGM Grand, in Reno, NV—in 1980. Fe is now 83 and lives with her daughter, but her husband, Will, has since passed away.

Enjoy!