Film #52: Burnt Offerings (1976)

Some summer vacations just never go right.
First your Great Aunt dies in the car seat next to you somewhere outside Mesa, and you're forced to strap her to your roof.
Then your Dad launches your car 50 yards off an out of order road.
And then, when you finally get to your destination, the house you’ve rented uses demonic spirits to force Dad to nearly drown his wussy son and sexually assault his frigid wife.

Wait, are we getting two movies confused here? That's right, the latter of the aforementioned plots takes place in this week’s scare-spectacle, Burnt Offerings.

The Rolf family thought they had the summer made. The city-slickers stumble upon a summer long vacation package at a historic, sprawling mansion in the countryside that only costs $900.

The place has it all, Olympic size swimming pool, historic gardens, refrigerator filled with meat, and enough dusty rooms to keep any 1970s woman busy cleaning her vacation away. My, they could even bring up their snappy Aunt Elizabeth (played by an ancient Bette Davis) for the adventure.

“I’m waiting for the catch,” says skeptical Rolf patriarch Ben to the mansion-owners (one of which is legend Burgess Meredith).
There is no catch, they claim, unless they are afraid of some housework (they’re charged with fixing up the dump) or mind caring for their shut-in mother who lives in the secluded third floor loft.
But she isn’t a bother at all; the Rolf’s probably won’t even see her once during their four month stay.

They’ll take it, Ben claims! And take it they do, right up the YingYang. It’s not long before their peaceful paradise, charming though completely run down, starts to show it’s a lot dirtier than it seems.

At first, they love cleaning and repairing the old place, stopping to enjoy a cold Coors on the lawn or admire the old-timey photo collections. But then they start to flip their shit, psychologically speaking.

Some pool roughhousing between Ben and his 12-year-old son Davey devolves into Ben uncontrollably trying to drown his spawn.
The next night, while getting frisky near the pool, Ben’s wife Marian changes her mind inexplicitly and screams rape.

But that’s nothing compared to what happens to poor Aunt Elizabeth. The weirdest thing, any time a horrific episode occurs, the family’s suffering seems to cause the house to magically regenerate its rotting shell and grounds!

Could the Rolf’s pain lead to house paint? Will they escape this mysterious, soul-sucking dome? Just what the hell is wrong with Marian's (plastic-surgeryed out Karen Black) face?

Find out, in the 1976’s haunted house horror, “Burnt Offerings.”

RDHP Ratings and Reviews

C-Rating: 3.8
Chris Dimick offers:
“There is always a catch. Always.
Life won’t ever do you any favor’s, kids. If something seems too good to be true – like a beautiful mansion for rent at $900’s 1976-money – then it probably is.

I’d be nice if life was simple. How great'd it be if you could draw out your course, plot A and B, and drive straight through marveling at the passing scenery.

But where would be the fun in that? Trials, detours, heartbreak… that’s what one gets when embarking on life’s road.

The optimists say we should be thankful for such catches. They build character, put things in perspective, and make your desired outcome that much sweeter when preceded by a mouthful of shit.

Burnt Offerings teaches a the true, valuable, unavoidable life lesson of "catch" in pure form. The Rolfs worked hard, earned a wonderful vacation in a country mansion with their young son and spry Aunt. They had it all planned out, and it was going to be flippin’ wonderful. And then life happened.

Though this flick could have been a good 45 minutes shorter and still delivered its message (runtime 1h55min), it did take a tired haunted house format and turn it on its ear a bit. Just enough, actually, to build tension and keep the viewer watching.

You’ll come for the acting legends like Burgess Meredith, Karen Black (above), Oliver Reed and Bette Davis, but you’ll stay for the tone-perfect soundtrack (nearly non-existent, in a good way), well timed scares, and the fun ending.

What’s the catch in watching Burnt Offerings? When you are done, you’ll be 1h55min closer to death. Such is the fact with anything in life. Was it really worth it. Is ANYTHING really worth it?

Ahhhh, THE CATCH.
Embrace it, optimists say. I guess what is the alternative?”

N-Rating: 3.6
Nick Rich offers:

“For my money, there are two things that scare the holly jolly right out of my Christmas stockings:

1. Unexplained children singing in dark, remote woods:

2. Horribly awkward scenes between husbands and wives showing love lost.

Mercifully there were no category 1 type situations in this weeks offering, but to the chagrin of my squeaky seat, there was a decent amount squirming to be had due to category 2 content in Burnt Offerings.

What was it about the 70s that bred films which showcased the horrible, horrible state of affairs a marriage can degrade into? I mean, it's not like there was anything bad happening at that time in history (I mean, when is there ever?). I'm sure my university film prof would wet his pants with excitement at the chance to explain why 70s cinema was so doggone depressing (yeah, I'm talking to you RDHP film #7 Let's Scare Jessica To Death), or as he would probably refer to it as: real.

Bah. Real isn't why people go to the movies, they go to the movies to escape. While a sense of reality can definitely be an asset to any film, as it grounds the characters and makes the film more believable, too much of a good thing (as they say) can be flat out depressing.

Take Synecdoche, New York for example - while not a horror movie per (or any other) se, I propose that it should be classified as such due to the singularly soul-crushingly depressing experience it is to watch the film. Bah! I'm getting depressed just remembering what it was like to watch it!

Maybe in my more emo days that's an experience I would have coveted, but alas, no more.

While Burnt Offerings touched upon the darker side of marriage, it did so merely as an accent to the larger story - akin to a sole violin playing a haunting, recurring theme in a concerto... it doesn't overpower the whole piece, but floats to the top of your consciousness just enough to cause chills. This dash of depression flavored the rest of the film quite nicely as we see a normal family descend into the madness of a subtly desperate situation.

I don't comment on it often, but the acting (save for the 12 year old boy) was quite good and spot on for film such as this. There's something about Oliver Reed that I find incredibly enjoyable to watch, I mean, he's just so British. So British in fact, that it made me overlook the fact that a) he lived in the U.S. (after all he could be a transplant) and b) his 'Auntie' (whom he had presumably grown up with) had an American accent (what the what?!?).

All in all I rather enjoyed this film. It meandered along and doused you with some 70s goodness along the way with surprisingly compelling characters that kept you guessing as to what ghastly fate awaited them at the end of their enchanted vacation. If you're in the mood for a slow boil of 70s horror with a dash of realistic depression, don't hesitate to spend an evening with Burnt Offerings... just be sure not to stay too long.

The Skinny: Check this flick out if you want to learn how to be a creepier B&B owner or if you want to feel better after coming off of a lackluster family vacation."

Things We Learned From Burnt Offerings:
-High-wasted mom jeans are not sexy.
-The underprivileged have never been to the country.
-Never say “Wash off his little hurt cuts” to a boy. It’s pedophile level creepy.
-The British are impossibly rude.
-Auntie just needs to relax at the wheel.
-In the movies, writers have lucrative, glamorous lives.
-Swimming trunks in the 70s were too short.
-Bette Davis looked like a walking corpse near the end.
-1970s women were really trying hard to hold onto the 1950s.
-“Hey Slave!” is not a good thing to say to your vacuuming wife.
-Finding Ding Dongs is a reason to squeal.
-Don’t cry over spilled, or shattered, punch bowls.
-Never use a machete angry:

Quote of the Viewing:
[The opening credits reveal Burnt Offerings was produced by P.E.A. Films. Chris and Nick snicker]

Nick: “P.E.A. Films. Well, this is gonna be a good one.”
Chris: "At least it is not S.H.I.T. Films.”

RDHP Present:

Things that Suck the Life Out of You
Burnt Offerings had a house that sucked the life out of its occupants. Below we examine other things that turn a Suck-and-Cut on your soul.

Cubicals

There is a reason some call them Cubic-hells. Because hell takes place within them.

Cats

Don’t let a cat crawl up on your face while sleeping. You won’t wake up. Seriously, cat’s suck out human souls! Why do you think Garfield’s John is so dead-inside?

Small Talk

How many countless hours are spent in a lifetime listening to information you don't care about, will never use and hope to forget... so, how about this weather we're having?

Television

Ever watch someone while they watch TV. They look like a zombie, sitting motionless for hours, barely blinking while the electronic scream-box drains ones time and life-force. TV’s great and all, but so is Four Loko. Use both moderately, and with caution.

The Morning Commute

We imagine it is what it would be like to wait in line for the executioner in olden times.

Life

Is it ironic that life sucks the life out of you? Maybe, probably not. More than likely that is just stupid. But is it true, yes. There is nothing that makes a person more tired than life.

Kids

One minute you are a 20-something who closes the bar every Friday, talks to four friends a day, and has enough energy left to catch a midnight movie at the local cinema. Then you have kids, and the only energy you have left after working and caring for them every second of your life is reserved for crying yourself to sleep each night. Or so we hear.

Film #51: The Curse of the Cat People (1944)

What a double standard!
A child has an imaginary friend, and she is called creative.
Two grown men have an imaginary friend, and they are called crackheads.

Case in point. The RDHP has a “faux” friend named Frankwolf, a half sensitive werewolf, half reanimated corpse manimal. We’ve taught Frankwolf to roll over, do our taxes, play Hot Cross Buns on a recorder, and tear out the throat of our enemies (and there are soooo many enemies).

And because of one invisible friend we are now typing this from our special white room.

But look on the bright side… the electro-shocks make us piss our pants!

Our mental problems pale in comparison to whittle Amy Reed, the focal point of this week’s movie, “The Curse of the Cat People.” Amy is a “dreamer,” which is a nice way of saying the little b*$ch likes to make up lies about the world.

Because she is a weirdo, no friends will have her, and soon her parents get sick of the brat hanging around the house. Speaking of Amy’s parents, regular readers may remember them. Amy’s Dad is Oliver Reed, who was married to cat obsessed psycho Irena in this film’s precursor, Cat People.

In that film, Irena believed that she was afflicted with an old country curse that would cause her to turn into a man-eating cat when riled up. Oliver worked with Amy’s mother, the ahead-of-her-time-lady-architect Alice, who eventually stole Oliver away from Irena, sending Irena into a rage that “transformed” her into a cat and eventually led to her death.

Well, here we are several years later, and with Irena buried in an old shoe box (where else would you bury a cat) adulterers Oliver and Alice are living a happy life with a daydreaming grade-schooler.

But Irena obviously has nine lives, and is sprung back into the world of the living after Amy makes a wish for a friend of her very own. Oh the fun they have! Running around, talking about Dads affairs, etc. Amy sees a picture of Irena in her father’s memories box (who keeps pics of their murderous ex-wife?) and shouts, “Hey, look, it is my friend.”

Oliver and Alice start to worry. Oh no, has Irena returned from the grave to haunt their child? Or, possibly even worse, could their daughter be insane for imagining Irena is really her flesh and blood friend?

The more Amy hangs out with Irena, the more she beings to act like her, and the more the 'rents worry. Cue in a subplot about a delusional old woman who lives down the road, and you've got a film packed with more looneys than a Canadian parking meter.

Has Irena returned from the dead to curse the Reed family in revenge? Is Amy a nut job or just “creative”? Just what kind of accent is Irena’s anyway (sounds like Mushmouth!) Find out, in the 1944 Val Lewton classic “The Curse of the Cat People.”

RDHP Ratings and Reviews

C-Rating: 2.5
Chris Dimick purrrs:
“Like a stingy wishbone, I’m split right down the middle and not dish out any magic. Is this movie brilliant or boring? Yes, it is, and that is why I can’t decide which way to turn on this black and white beauty.

Ambiguity in a movie can be alluring, and Curse has plenty of it. Was the little girl making it all up, and Irena was really an “imaginary friend”? Or, was Irena really haunting her from beyond the grave? Or, even more perplexing, was Irena trying to protect Alice?
It’s left up to the audience to decide, and for that I applaud Curse.

However, ambiguity is also the lame-o’s playground. While the film did have impact in its subtly and mystery, it was just too slow and snoozy for me to sing abundant praise.

I feel like a Texas ranch hand accidently walking into a Tranny bar. Sure, all the women look beautiful at first in the low light, even mysterious and intriguing.

But just before he asks that first “lady” to dance, something deep down in that Texan’s core tells him funny business is afoot.

There was just something “off” about Curse. I get what they were going for, and from what I can tell they succeeded in producing an entertaining and thought-provoking movie.

But my gut tells me there is a set of nuts under that skirt.”

N-Rating: 2.6

Nick Rich purrrs:

"While not as good as RKO's first nip at a cat story, I found The Curse of the Cat People to be oddly enjoyable. Whether you will think so too is anyone's guess.

Admittedly, I'm a bit strange (you may have noticed this if you've been reading for a while). As a strange person, there are times when things that others may find... mundane, amuse and entertain me. Honestly, I'm not sure if this is the case with CotCP. Judging by the division in Chris' mind, I think an educated guess would be that most people wouldn't dig this flick. But for me... there was something about it I kinda vibed on- I mean, come on! It had a magic tree mailbox! What more could you want?

What's that you say? A decent plot? Well, don't go getting greedy now!

Maybe what endeared me to this picture was the constant state of expecting something to happen... for a payoff to materialize. I suppose I was taken with the idea of wanting to be taken with the story; that and it was amusingly random at times (case in point: the articulate Jamaican housekeeper who always referred to Amy as 'little miss').

In the tradition of the first film, CotCP keeps you guessing as to

what's the dillio with the plot. In fact, the story is so seemingly random I found myself hoping for a Crash-esq payoff at the end (which does materialize, in case you're wondering, albeit in a lackluster fashion). I think this would irk most people.
Me, I just enjoyed watching the ambling, rambling time-capsule of a story go about its little adventure. There were just enough moments of cool outfits and outrageous 1940's behavior to keep me mildly amused... I suppose it may be like what life is like on Valium. Which doesn't knock your socks off, but it can certainly be a pleasant way to pass the evening (or so I would imagine).

I'm not even going to get into whether or not this is a horror film, but I can most assuredly say that if you're a fan of House of 1,000 Corpses it is probably safe to skip this one. That is of course unless your girlfriend is a hipster with a 1940's lean, then you might score some bookoo points for having a sit-down with CotCP.

The Skinny: Check this flick if you're in the mood for a mood stabilizer... or if you want to know how to not raise your children."

Things We Learned from Curse of the Cat People:
-You can’t mail letters via “magic tree mailboxes.”
-Amy likes to dream.
-It is very easy to ditch a child with the “Look at that…” bit.
-A hoop and stick is the most boring toy ever invented.
-We’ve said it before, but the 1940s had damn great women’s fashion.
-“Any note, no matter how sour, sounds like a song if you hold onto it for long enough.”
-God should use a rose amber spot on the too bright sun.
-Opening Xmas prezzies on Xmas Eve is considered “proper.”
-History is written by the victors.
-Love hurts:

Quote of the Viewing:
[Amy befriends a senile old woman who claims her daughter/caretaker is an imposter. Taking a shine to Amy, the woman and her exchange Christmas presents.]

Old Woman: “Shall I show you your Christmas present, Amy?”
Nick: “[Old Woman Voice] I’ve set your house on fire.”
Chris: “And killed your parents.”

RDHP Presents:

Other Famous Curses

If you thought the curse of the Cat People was bad, just take a look at the following lingering mojo hexed on folks. It is all enough to make you stuff a rabbits foot, four leaf clover, and Kardashian sister in your underwear (you know, all things that are lucky).

Curse of the Billy Goat

Legend has it that Chicago tavern owner Billy Sianis put this curse on the Chicago Cubs in 1945 after ushers refused to let his goat sit next to him at the World Series in Wrigley Field. The Cubs haven't even gone to the Series since.

The Curse of Age 27

The Curse of 27 is the belief that 27 is an unlucky number due to the number of famous musicians and entertainers who have died at the age. Robert Johnson, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Ron "Pigpen" McKernan, Janis Joplin, Jonathan Brandis and Kurt Cobain are all believed to have been affected by the Curse of 27.

Curse in “Drag Me To Hell”

Help an old lady who doesn't pay her bills, or finally get that promotion. Christine Brown chose the latter, and it only cost her a soul in this 2009 Sam Raimi carnival ride of a horror flick.

Curse of the Hope Diamond

You don't want this sparkler dangling around your neck. Just ask Marie Antoinette.

Curse of the Great Bambino

This curse began after the Boston Red Sox sold Babe Ruth, The Great Bambino, against his wishes to the New York Yankees in the off-season of 1919-1920. Before that point, the Red Sox had been one of the most successful professional baseball franchises, winning the first World Series and amassing five World Series titles. But after the sale they went without a title for 86-years, as the previously lackluster Yankees became one of the most successful franchises in North American professional sports. Don't cross The Babe.

The Superman Curse

Apparently taking on the role of the Man of Steel is kryptonite for the important things in life, like your career, mental well-being and well... your life.

The Kennedy Curse

Sure, you are rich and powerful. But you're gonna die horribly.
Guess we'd rather be poor and powerless.

The SoCal Curse

Ah, life in sunny Southern California!

Here we are in January and the forecast for tomorrow is 76 degrees and sunny... What a life! Well, that is until the biblical fires come (as they seem to do every 3 years!) and give residents practice for the end of days!

The Curse of Montezuma
(aka "Montezuma's Revenge")

Now here's a curse that really scares the you-know-what out of people!
It's estimated that 40% of foreign traveler vacations in good ol' Mexico are disrupted by Montezuma. Not traveling to Mexico any time soon? Fear not! I'd wager there is a Taco Bell in your neighborhood eagerly waiting to spring this dreaded curse upon you!
BEWARE!!

(We figured you wouldn't want to see an actual picture of Montezuma's Revenge)



Film #50: House (1986)

Money pit houses are the worst! First the roof springs a leak. Next, the basement floods.

And before you’ve written your first mortgage payment, a skull-faced demon from the 9th level of hell perv-touches and kidnaps your 10-year-old son!
Yep, hell pit houses sure are the worst.

Just ask Roger Cobb, a horror novelist whose marriage and life takes a clockwise turn down the toilet bowl after his son disappears during a visit to his aunt’s Demon Dwelling.
The old place is more haunted than a Tijuana stripper, with beasties of all dimensions flying out of the walls. When Auntie is tricked by the spirits into giving herself a Texas necktie, Cobb inherits the house and decides to track down his son once and for all – in between writing his Great American Novel about the horrors of Vietnam service. Oh yeah, he has scary issues.

Next door to the Hell House lives Harold Gorton, played hysterically dead-panned by Norm himself, George Wendt.
A Roger Cobb-novel superfan, Harold instantly befriends Roger and eventually aids his buddy in keeping the house ghosts at bay. But at first he just thinks Roger is crazy, what with his tales of man-scratching skeletons and visions of his old-as-fecal-matter hanged Aunt.

That old Roger, he has a hell of time finishing off that war novel, seeing as he’s continually interrupted by inanimate objects trying to de-gut him and mounted fish trying to head upstream.
Things get even worse when Cobb’s model/actress ex-wife “shows up” to harass him, only to turn into a bloated, bitchy, bile, burping baboon (isn’t it always great when you see an ex, and they look worse than you remember them!?)

Novel aside, Roger finally gets to business of tracking down his son in the warped walls of the old homicidal homestead. But not if the evil spirits have anything to do with it. That 10-year-old boy meat is sooooooooooooooo tender and vivid!

Can Roger find his winy brat? Will his ex-wife literally take his ass in the divorce? Can George Wendt polish off an entire bottle of Jack Daniels? Find out in the 1986 80s-licious funfest, “House.”

RDHP Ratings and Reviews

C-Rating: 3.8
Chris Dimick war-cries:
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, the 80s. The best decade for the horror film. That’s right, of ANY decade. Don’t start with your Expressionism this and Universal Monsters that. The 1980s knew how to deliver an entertaining horror picture. Why? They kept it light and simple.

House, like many of its 80s brothers, knew how to balance humor, horror, silly and seriousness. Some scenes, like when George Wendt eats a midnight dinner with a deranged Roger, are downright witty and laugh out loud funny.
The horror was campy by modern standards, but lightly sickening for a mid 80s flick and realistic (in parts) to boot. When that monster jumps out of the closet that first time, don’t deny you weren’t surprised or even jumped… just a little.

The silly came with child monsters and a disembodied hand that wouldn’t quit. Nick and I both hoped the hand would choke out a mulleted child it stalked at one point… for the child’s sake (Child mullets are a capital offense).
The seriousness came through Cobb’s struggles with his Vietnam War crazies. Every good 80s horror movie has to have a crazy ‘Nam vet to do something wacky or flip out for the camera. House actually dug into this stereotype, not deep, but to just about the eye water table. It took war trauma somewhat seriously, or at least incorporated the premise into its plot.

Best of all, 1980s movies, like House, know their sense of time and place – and embrace it harder than leg warmers on a two buck Betty.
The 80sness of this flick literally poured into my eye sockets and flat-sat on my fun zone. The non-gay man wearing a low V-neck sweater! The garbage can size personal home computer! The tiny, rock hard Banquet microwave dinners symbolizing the characters loneliness! The feathered, feathered, light as a feather hair!
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, it makes me want to put Billie Jean on my Ghettoblaster and Flashdance till I puke Rubik Cubes!

Those damn horror films nowadays can just be too heavy handed in their delivery of the medium. It is all dark corners, jump scares, over processed gore, and flimsy character development in place of fast cut edits. The 80s horror movies told a story… sometimes an innocent and neutered story, but a story nonetheless that you could remember five minutes after throwing your popcorn garbage on the theater floor.

Each time I watch a classic 80s flick, I feel special for having the experience, and deeply saddened that I am one step closer to having watched them all.

House, I give you a vigorous theater clap. But 1980s horror movies, I give a standing ovation.”

N-Rating: 4.0
Nick Rich war-cries:

“For this week's film I would like to employ some audio/visual aid so you might better understand how I felt about watching House (see below).

YES! Feeling chipper and dandy now aren't you? (Even though you're not sure you should because that definitely wasn't the greatest song you've ever heard.) Throw in that warm feeling you get when childhood memories and nostalgia wash over you (you know, like blood slowly soaking into your shirt after you've been shot in the kidney region), well, that's how I feel about the 1986 haunt-a-thon House.

Much like the music video Our House you just watched (the song is still running through your head isn't it?), House is happy, fun and infectious. Of its own merit House is not great mind you and admittedly wouldn't hold up against some of the greatest horror movies of all time (much like Our House wouldn't hold up against Mozart's Requiem), but there's just something about it that makes you well, happy.

You may be confused at this point.

"Nick, isn't this a blog about horror movies? Why do I care about a horror movie making me happy - aren't I supposed to be scared by them?!?"

Well gentle reader if this is how you feel, I'm afraid you couldn't be more wrong. When it comes to a horror film, like most things in life, there is more than meets the eye. There are a multitude of things to consider:

• Was it technically executed well?
• Was I genuinely interested in the story?
• Were the characters believable?* (*Or so exceedingly awesome it didn't matter?)
• Did it scare me?
• Did it make me feel funny inside?
• Did it make me happy?

Yes, you may have noticed that last one there: did it make me happy. I don't think most people associate horror movies with being happy, most of the time I would guess people assume they exist to scare. I'll never knock a good scare (that is one of the aspects I love about horror films), but if we were to get to the root of the issue I think it's about happiness. Webster's Dictionary defines happiness as "enjoying or characterized by well-being and contentment". When it comes right down to it, you're not going to intentionally watch a film that doesn't make you happy. Now the thing that may make you happy might be having the living daylights scared out of you... or it may be watching a fun filled romp with Vietnam vets sprinkled in (a common situation to be sure). Any way you slice it, as a viewer you are experiencing enjoyment; thus happiness.

Personally, I enjoyed this film on multiple levels. You see, I had seen House as a wee lad (presumably on HBO) while residing in my super-awesome childhood home. The room which housed our 20 inch color TV in a 30 inch frame was warm (as it had an old-school, freestanding wood furnace), inviting (thanks to the modular sofa that swallowed half of the room in a sea of configurable comfort) and the most memorable room in the entire house. It was in this room, probably eating one of the ever-present freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that accompanied occupancy (or so my memory tells me), where I first saw House... And watching it once again instantly transported me back to my haven of 80's childhood refuge; and that makes me happy.

I dare you to try watching House and fully submitting to its pure 80s goodness then tell me it didn't make you happy! (This would be especially difficult for a child of the 80s.) Obviously, you won't have the same happiness baggage going into a viewing of House as I did (and if you did, that'd be a bit eerie), but maybe, just maybe House will help you discover that cozy room hidden deep within the reaches of your own memory. I guess the old adage is true: be it ever so humble, there's no place like House.

The Skinny: Check this flick out if you've ever wanted a realistic portrayal of what life is like as a novelist, or if you miss (and romanticize) the 80s as much as we do."

Things We Learned From House:
-Dali is "sick" to teens.
-Punk rockers look like women... all of them.
-Banquet dinners and dog food looked similar in 1986.
-Never play cars on a grave.
-Nick sleeps with his shirt off. Chris hates sleeping naked.
-Beautiful women can get a man to do anything, even babysit.
-Aging actresses can get real ugly.
-George Wendt still had it in 1986.
-When coming back from the grave for revenge, don't forget extra rounds.
-Some remotes turn off bad memories.
-Baby mullets are child-abuse:

Quote of the Viewing:
[Roger Cobb enters the frame wearing a V-neck sweater, and nothing underneath. Chris and Nick snicker]
Nick: "I'm waiting for him to took at the camera and say 'Um, my eyes are up here, guys!'"

Things the RDHP Love About the 80s

Nick and Chris love to relive their childhoods and gush about 1980s horror movies. But what are some other things that make our slap-bracelets curly-cue? Below is a tribute to the 1980s fit to replay on VH1 23 hours a day (the other hour is STD-stank dating shows).
Hey remember in the 1980s when we had…

Alf

Chris liked him because he ate his mortal enemy…cats. Nick liked him because he had awesome hair and an even awesomer computer game!

Ronald Reagan

He was a cowboy. He was all American. And he was senile as all hell. How did we avoid WWIII again?

Saturday Morning Cartoons

As a child, Chris would actually grab the printed faux TV Guide provided by the newspaper (called the TV Book, big city boy that Nick was he used the actual TV Guide) on Friday night and plan out which cartoons he would watch that next morning. Yep, once OCD, always OCD. But hey, there were a lot to choose from! Nowadays it is all Zack and Cody this and That’s So Raven that. Where are the Smurfs? The Rainbow Brite? The GI Joe!?

Cocaine

Though had been around long before 1980s, this seemed to be the drug of the decade. Yeah, it destroys lives and families, but at least it was a better than the 2000s favorite of crystal meth cooked up by inbred trailer hicks. Cocaine at least had some class, people! Go snort some!

Home Box Office

With the wonder of cable (and its mind-blowing 30-some channels) still fresh on our eyes, something called the Home Box Office made us feel like the future was NOW! I mean, movies in your house - no tapes, no commercials!?!

(Nick still gets goosebumps watching this intro)

David Letterman was Funny

Ah the days of Larry Bud Melman and unpredictable guests. When Letterman was at his prime in the 1980s, it was can’t miss it TV. Now he is just a balding, dirty old man who laughs too much at his unfunny jokes. Turn off David, and spend your nights with a warm cup of Coco!

Corded Phones

Oh how you could wrap and wrap and wrap yourself in these cords. And when you got sick of talking to your Aunt about her fungal problems, you could hang yourself with it too!

Free Broadcast TV

What’s that, you can still get free TV over the air? Sure you can… but do you really want to lazy-ass?

No Internet

Well, at least most of us didn't have it. Sure the military was playing War Games, but everyone else had to live with heading to the library for information, or - GASP - people. As great as instantaneous answers are, we kind of miss the comfort we used to have in not knowing things.

RDHP Salute:

Men in V-Neck Sweaters!

Now this is a fashion statement men have to bring back. Oh wait, they did… for hipsters and gay gentlemen. Thanks a lot American Apparel! As an acknowledgment of the raw sexiness and bravado Roger Cobb holds as he struts through most of House in his bare-chested V-neck, we present other starry-eyed wears of the man V!

Ode to January

By Chris Dimick

(I’d like to give a special tribute to the worst month of the year. Yep, all the presents you didn’t like are in the dumpster, the next work holiday is months down the calendar, and you have a bowl full of candy canes you don’t want to throw away, but won’t ever eat. I heart January.)

It’s the most horrible time of the year!

Present debt does come calling

Seasonal depression brings balling

And frostbite does sear!

It’s the ass-assiest time of the year!

January is a December hangover.

Puking out the “joy” burns the throat.

What is there to look forward to in January?

Other than triple digit gas bills,

And six figure Visa statements.

Don’t expect to see the sun for awhile.

At least someone’s on vacation.

So much for “peace on earth” I guess,

Common curtsey is so last year.

It’s the most horrible time of the year!

Flu bugs begin crawling

Frozen engines start stalling

Depression breeds fear!

It’s the shit-shitest time…

It’s the hope-hopeless-ist time...

It’s the most horrible time of the yearrrrrr!

(P.S. Happy Birthday Nick)