I know that, with Twilight and True Blood and Being Human and the onward march of more and more sexy vampires, nonconformists are hoping for a different monster to idealize. It is always vaguely uncomfortable when the supposedly appalling, unique, and individualistic thing you are into becomes commonplace. For a while, those who loved monsters but did not want to jump on the vampire bandwagon made do with werewolves. The thing is that werewolves represent rage, not sexual rage, just mad-as-hell out-of-control blind rage. And that is ultimately not that hot for most people. Although I confess to having had one or two stories published where I did write some werewolf sex or romance in there, in my defense, one was written on assignment and one was written partly to match accompanying illustrations already selected. At any rate, werewolves just plain don’t have the sexual magnetism of vampires and werewolf costumes are really difficult as heck to put together.

Zombie costumes, on the other hand, are pretty easy to put together. You just need to look decaying and injured and you can even make a sexy zombie costume by distressing your zombie wardrobe. A costume which is easy to do is good for group activities. Getting a bunch of people to dress up as monsters and go out on the town together is fun. Fewer people have sort of cannon ideas of what a zombie must be, as opposed to what a vampire or werewolf must be, so there is more freedom in costuming for zombie parties. But zombies are still ultimately kind of leprosy monsters. You and fifty comrades chanting “brains, brains, brains” in your torn underwear in a public place is awesome. But the actual zombie concept of a shambling stupid corpse with parts falling off is not so hot, Julie notwithstanding. And, although I forget which company it was, one of the big media corporate giants ran a zombie walk at Comic Con last weekend. So, after co-option, nobody really tends to get individuality points for being into zombies over vamps any more.

So I was looking at this half naked photo series by Ivan Hidalgo which featured sexy zombies and it brought the vital question to mind: Are zombies sexy or do they just make for good costumes?

Primeval is more science fiction thriller fare from BBC America. The real stars of the show are the creatures created for it, particularly Rex, the adorable flying lizard thingie-ma-bob. The series comes from the fine folks who created Walking with Dinosaurs. Walking with Dinosaurs was a documentary about prehistoric animals which presented the film more like something you’d see in a modern nature film, rather than like a history show. Walking with Dinosaurs won a whole passel of awards, including a bunch of Emmies (Emmys?), mostly of course for the impressive visual effects. Walking with Dinosaurs is now touring the USA as a live show with giant in-person dinosaurs and I’m really bummed I missed it when it came through Los Angeles. On Primeval, it is also fun to watch the behind the scenes bits about how they do the effects with a combination of animatronics, cg, and really cutting edge new technology.

With Primeval, the FX team brings their considerable talents to a show with more of a storyline presentation. When first we meet our heroes, biology history Professor Nick Cutter played by Douglas Henshall, and his pretty boy badass hunter assistant Steven played by James Murray, are going about their academic lives, although Nick is haunted by his dead wife Helen and her research into oddities, including a fish, thought prehistorically extinct, which appeared in a modern body of water. Turns out Helen is not so dead after all. She is ably played by Juliet Aubrey and has just spent the past eight years time-traveling without a lot of concern for her husband’s feelings. But, after all that time, she felt like getting laid by someone who understood what was so cool about time travel, from a research perspective. I was a little surprised, as I’d assumed Nick was boning Steven, but I could roll with it. They add in Connor, one of Nick’s students, played by Andrew Lee Potts, and the show becomes more fun, as Connor and his friends are really plausible fen. They are smart and fun in their own way, have huge geek knowledge on selected topics, usefully in Connor’s case on prehistoric zoology, but they are a wreck around girls. Then we’ve got Abby, the cute punky reptile specialist who makes the cute Rex into a pet. Entertainingly, Abby is played by Hannah Spearritt from UK coed Spice Girls style band Sclub7.

Season 1 and Season 2 of Primeval are available on DVD now. I’m fixing to watch the season finale I TiVoed, as soon as I finish writing this. I admit that part way through, it was like the actors all decided they wanted to look more movie star-like. So pacifist animal and monster savior Nick starts toting guns, Connor gets a Fallout Boy makeover, Helen gets a butch haircut and starts showing off a lot more cleavage and a lot more crazy, Steven goes from being fearless white hunter to over-the-top A-Team steely-blue gaze action hero, and the useless bureaucrat character gets all high fashion as a useless publicist character. Apparently messing with time makes people’s fashion sense improve. Although I like pretty things as well as anyone, I feel like actors who are excessively concerned with looking hot are inadequately dedicated to their craft. Nonetheless, the makeovers are at least nominally explained by the time anomalies and nothing is as egregious as the designer duds and please-pass-the-steroids on Heroes. Primeval is not edge-of-your-seat, change-your-life television in the first place. Primeval is a bit of dependable entertainment with some really great creature effects and a moderately appealing cast.

The only one who doesn’t seem to change a bit from all the time portal anomalies and all the television exposure is Ben Miller’s Lester the head bureaucrat. He is delightfully sarcastic and hilarious and dresses in awfully expensive suits for a government man from day one. Fun factoid to know and share: Of the entire cast, all the scientists are played by actors. Only the bemused Director of Time Traveling Dinosaur Containment, or whatever Lester’s title is, is actually a scientist as well. Ben Miller was writing his thesis on Novel Quantum Effects In Quasi-Zero Dimensional Mesoscopic Electrical Systems, when he decided he would rather be on stage and screen instead. I’m not sure what Novel Quantum Effects In Quasi-Zero Dimensional Mesoscopic Electrical Systems are, but they almost sound like dimensional portals which would facilitate time travel and entertaining television.

I’m going to admit that this year, like many Americans, I’ve been too caught up, either following election coverage or avoiding it, to properly celebrate Halloween. Sure, Blue Blood is sponsoring a few Halloween parties, most notably the Release the Bats decade anniversary. And I remembered to freshen up my hair color and play with squash a little. Some years, I get all freaked out about wanting to do too much for Halloween, but this year I haven’t even had my favorite holiday at the front of my brain most of the time. But I’ve been enjoying a bit of vicarious Halloween joy today, checking out the work of people like Dana Dark and Ray Villafane.

More on Dana Dark’s Halloween secrets later, but I want to tell you all about Ray Villafane now. He is an artist who primarily appears to work on sculpture for folks like Sideshow Collectibles and McFarlane Toys. In the unlikely event you are not familiar with those companies, they make collectibles for the horror, science fiction, fantasy, and general monsters and comic books realm.

But, wow, can Ray Villafane sculpt a pumpkin! Some people paint or draw on pumpkins. Most people just scoop out the guts and cut holes for features. I like to make jack o’lantern art at one step remove and have nude models scoop out the guts and cut holes for features. But Ray Villafane turns the pumpkin carving process into real sculptural works of art.

I’m feeling more buoyant about Halloween just thinking about it!

You all may have noticed the banners for the movie Devil’s Den in rotation this week. It stars Kelly Hu, Ken Foree and Devon Sawa and is described by Amazon as, “Two small time drug-dealers cross paths with a female-assassin, a monster hunter, a Japanese swordsman and even the Devil himself at a gentlemen’s club housing murderous she-demons.” The slogan for Devil’s Den is “The final battle for the souls of mankind will be fought in a bar full of possessed strippers.” This is not only a deeply awesome slogan, but it reminded me that I had a great article by Sara X to post for your reading pleasure in honor of Devil’s Den. –Amelia G

I’m not a stripper. Really, I’m not. To say that I am a stripper would be to imply that I actually take my clothes off when I dance, which I don’t. In fact, to do so and be caught would result in a ticket for solicitation, a hefty fine, court fees, and a prostitution charge on my permanent record. So why do people, both men and women, pay enough to see me dance that I can live in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed? I’ve spent the past year and a half wondering that myself.

What I do is known around here as “go-go”. When I hear that term I think bouffant hairdos, psychadelic colors, white vinyl knee-high boots and maybe even a little James Bond. In larger cities, go-go dancers are girls who are paid a flat rate to dance in a club, usually on a box, usually scantily clad. From what I’ve heard, the city is so against any sort of gentleman’s club that the clubs were termed “go-go bar” in order to seem more innocuous. The laws here are strict- it’s not just stripping that’s illegal. These laws are enforced by a peculiarly reclusive branch of the Alcoholic Beverage Control that is known simply as “Vice”. The type of bar you work in can be determined by how well they follow these rules. In some ways, it would appear that a go-go bar isn’t so different from any other strip club after all.

If one or two of the laws are strictly adhered to, you work in an okay bar. Someone usually tips off the owners when Vice is coming in. Vice is usually fat, sweaty, covered in bad tattoos, wearing a wrinkled rayon shirt, doesn’t tip, and virtuallly indistinguishable from at least half of the other patrons.

If all of the laws are strictly adhered to, you work in a real dump. The city wants very badly to be rid of the place so that someone else can come along and give them free drugs. Oops I mean adhere to their laws.

If none of the laws are even remotely adhered to, then your boss is filling the nasal cavities of and providing private parties for every branch of government that could possibly find beef with him at any point. Extra points if your boss, his close friends or relatives never go to jail. Even if they’ve probably killed someone. In the parking lot.

I’ve never been able to procure a copy of the actual laws outlining The Do’s and Don’ts of Virginia Go-Go, right now I don’t have to worry about it (I’ve already danced at a retirement party for some city official this year but hey, city officials can’t been seen in that sort of establishment so why not open it just for them for the afternoon and provide dancers free of charge?!). From what I have gathered working in six area bars it’s like this:

1.) Thou shalt not strip. In fact, if thou art seen taking off even a coverup on the stage area, thou shalt be smited with a fine of $500 or more, a date in court, court fees, lawyer fees, and a charge on thy permanent record. If thy club chooses to make thee pay their fees as well, thou art fucked.

2.) Thou shalt not mimic sexual acts while dancing. We recommend polka lessons or that Michael Flatley “Riverdance”.

3.) Thou shalt not touch thy genitalia, breasts, posterior, or any article of clothing while in the stage area. This includes spanking thyself. To do so will result in neverending fees. Nevermind that if thy bottoms are seen riding up thine ass, thou shalt be smited with aforementioned ticket, fees, etc. We call this “damned if you do, damned if you don’t”.

4.) Thou shalt wear a coverup at all times while not on the stage area. Coverups must be opaque and cover from neck to mid-thigh.

5.) Thou shalt wear full tops and full bottoms at all times. We’re not too sure about the guidelines for the top as long as there’s no nipple showing, or the front of thy bottoms as long as there is no vagina showing, but as far as the rear of the bottoms go, thou shalt not intimate that thou hast an asscrack, nor shalt thou show the bottom of thy buttcheeks. This means bootyshorts are illegal. Whoever made up the “must be at least four inches across” rule was lying to thee. Putting a safety pin or a permanent cinch in the back of thy bottoms to prevent “the diaper look” is illegal. Basically We wanteth thou to wear granny panties. In order to be legal, thou must use school glue or two-sided garment tape to make thy bottoms stick to thy butt. No, We are not joking.

6.) Thou shalt not bring props onto the stage. We do not know why. But We shall still fine thee for it.

7.) Thou shalt not dance with another dancer, touch another dancer, share the stage area with another dancer, and ESPECIALLY not imitate sex acts with another dancer. To do so shall result in making an unholy amount of money, instant death, and/or fines that will take all of your money whilst making thee wish thou were dead.

8.) Thou shalt not sit idle on the stage. This is to discourage thee from talking to thy customers. To do so is to solicit prostitution. Somehow. And thou can bet thine ass We shall fine thee mightily for it.

9.) Thou shalt not at any time even when on the floor area touch a customer. To do so is to be giving a lapdance. Fines, fines, more fines. Then We shall shut down thy bar.

Oh. Also, thou shalt not be touched by a customer. It doesn’t matter if thou didn’t solicit his or her touch. We shall still write thee a ticket for solicitation.

10.) Thou shalt always remember the line between the stage and the customers, known as the “tip rail”. Thou shalt not cross this line with any part of thy body, even a foot, at any time. To do so wouldst make thou a prostitute, and We shall mark you as such for the rest of thy born days. Forget ever having a goverment job.

Any time you violate these laws, you are pulled offstage, a Polaroid is taken of you, your offending garment (where applicable) and you are written a citation. That’s not even going into the health code laws. Those begin with “Thou shalt never be barefoot in thy bar”, cover the requisite “Thou shalt not put bodily fluids in anything served in thy bar”, continuing on forever, reiterating some ABC laws, ending with “Thou shalt not bring animals into thy bar”. I was wondering who would even violate the last one, up until management found me guilty of being late to get onstage due to excessive hormones and baby talk directed at someone’s tiny fluffy five-week old kitten in the dressing room.

DJ Xian likes to throw big events for big dates. Halloween is coming up, so you know she’ll be throwing another Hex Hollywood bash. Along with the venerable Panpipes, Blue Blood sponsored the last Hex Hollywood bacchanalia on 06/06/06. In honor of the date, the theme was Angels, Devils, Saints, Sinners, Undead, Nuns, Priests, Gods, Monsters, Virtues, and Vices. Costumes turned out heavy on the angels and devils. A highlight of the evening was the performance by the crew from CORE, Constructs of Ritual Evolution. A low point of the evening was when we broke a lens. As it turned out, the gentleman, who tripped over the cord attached to our camera, was gallant enough to kick in a few bucks towards a new one and then Samy’s gave us a truly godlike deal on a replacement, so it ended up not being so bad after all. In this series of some of the hottest looks from the night, you’ll see where we change lenses and backdrops, so now you won’t have to wonder why. All in all, Xian’s “three levels of pleasure and pain” was a huge extravaganza, packed with people who really did it up, and had plenty of fun.

Hex Hollywood Pictures by Forrest Black and Amelia G

Hex Hollywood Site