 |
 |
October 4, 2005:
The topic of today's entry will be familiar to readers who've somehow stomached me since X-E opened -- it's something I covered waaaay back in 2000, before I knew how to use a spellchecker and before I learned that the word "shit" in of itself wasn't funny. Bad as the article was/is, I've always reflected fondly on it -- it just feels like such a personifying point of coverage for this stupid site. It's something that struggled in its obscurity while still being well a part a pop culture. It's my favorite thing on the planet. Exaggerations feel safer when we're referring to little, coffin-shaped pendants filled with soil from Dracula's castle, and that's why we're here today. We're here for Dracula dirt.
In the late 1970s, there were far more magazines that covered science fiction and horror movies than there are today -- a lot more. Between Jaws, The Exorcist and Star Wars, the decade turned what would normally only be "geeks" into teenagers who fully fantasized about one day being the guys who created alien masks and used clay figurines to make dinosaurs eat people in stop-motion. The articles in these magazines could rarely be considered fluff pieces, each detailing the intense production steps involved in creating specific films or famous movie sequences. In short, it was page after page after page of inspiration for anyone who wasn't at all interested in a "real job."
This was all before my time, but I've picked up dozens upon dozens of such magazines since -- the back issues were always cheap picks at used book stores, comic shops and the occasional convention. That these naughty genres were once so rich and interesting make today's mostly thoughtless expeditions feel all the more depressing. I wish this was a better segue into what's going to be a review of a coffin-shaped pendant filled with soil from Dracula's castle, but I do what I can within the parameters of having zero time to write this shit.
See, the magazines were chock full of advertisements. All magazines are, but these kinds of magazines featured some of the greatest, most offbeat stuff an eye could ever see. We're talking everything from vials of bat's blood to anarchist cookbooks -- everything sold on the last few pages seemed to carefully skirt any and all legality. I loved it. Hated that the offers were no longer relevant considering that I was reading ten-year-old issues, but that didn't make the idea of getting such cruel stuff in the mail any less thrilling.
The Dracula dirt ad is one of the most famous of all, appearing on the back cover of countless geek magazines throughout the late `70s and early `80s. Everyone who had such magazines back then seems to remember it, though I'd be really surprised if more than a handful actually ordered the thing -- 17.95 is a lot of money to spend a teaspoon of dirt, even if that dirt's from Transylvania. In very dramatic fashion, the advertisement played up that each plastic, coffin-shaped pendant was guaranteed to come directly from the old stomping grounds of Vlad himself, talking about the Impaler's various gruesome accomplishments in ways that made the "INCLUDES GOLD CHAIN" teaser feel even more inappropriate. There wasn't any outright implications that the "amulet" would provide its owner magical powers, but c'mon -- you don't use the word "amulet" and expect people not to think that.
I can't begin to describe the painful process involved with me finding the decades old necklace, but I did, and the old wise man charged me way too much for it. There were a couple of different versions of the print ad seen above, but all of them made a big deal about the "gold chain." I always suspected that the chain was a piece of vending machine junk, and holy fuck, I was right. The rubber crap that kept my four-inch Destro's torso attached to his crotch was more elegant.
But really, nobody wanted this thing for the chain. The coffin-shaped amulet was glued shut, so while there was indeed a gram of Dracula dirt inside, you couldn't let the stuff run through your fingers without cracking its home apart. I can't recommend this, as soil from Dracula's castle feels like something that'd lose a heck of a lot of luster once it hits "different air." The gram's worth of Dracula's essence would escape into the wind, complete with disembodied hoo hoo ha ha. I didn't pay all this money for regrets.
The print ads make the soil look all cool and textured; in reality, it's just dirt. One theory suggests that the only reason the coffin is glued shut is to avoid anyone ever finding out that the Warren Publishing Company was just trying to unload eighty-thousand pounds of surplus cocoa mix. If I ever break this thing open and smell chocolate, Prince Warren's gonna need a lot more than garlic. Because I know karate.
I'm wearing the necklace as I write this, in part for inspiration, but mostly because I know full well that there will never be another opportunity to wear a plastic, coffin-shaped amulet filled with dirt held by a big gold coil. Even in anti-fashion circles, this thing is a bloodsucking faux pas. Painting its wearers more as unhip losers than creatures of dark intrigue, I doubt even 600-pound goth chicks who paint Celtic Ankhs on their nails would accept a date offer from me with this thing on. And yet, while wearing it, I feel so much more likely to be able to get rats and wolves to do shit for me.
Each amulet came with a certificate of authenticity, complete with the particular necklace's ID number (only 5,000 were made) and a signature from somebody whose name holds absolutely no meaning for me. Confirming that the soil trapped within each coffin indeed came directly from the Carpathian Mountains, I'm now 150 times more likely to find out what the hell the Carpathian Mountains are. The certificate is presented on mock parchment with a whole lotta shakin' going on, and in a side box, a description of the bad man himself appears in gold ink:
"He is as a shadow, and hath no reflection. At night, he penetrates through walls and doors. Abandon all hope, ye whom he doth approach."
Christ, that sounds worse than text put through an Ancient Speak Generator found via Ask Jeeves.
- Matt (10/4/05)
One year ago on the Halloween Countdown:
The Growing Pains Halloween Episode!
Almost two years ago on the Halloween Countdown:
The Dracula Ring!
|
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
