TEMPLE OF SCHLOCK: Herschell Gordon Lewis

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Herschell Gordon Lewis - R.I.P.

"B"-gore Scare Was HD, At FEAST We Had H. G.!

by Don K. Barbecue

I figure true grue Temple of Schlocksters already heard, but if you haunt, Herschell Gordon Lewis has died. Witch takes me hack: Ah yessss, I can see it as if it were(wolf) Unca Festerday: my younger brother and me my own elf as lads on the highest bleachers of the local racetrack a scare amount of summers aghoul. I can see us even howl, as in we howled cuz we couldn't hear much of the drive-in sounds of monster movies and trailers of terror at the adjacent to the track shout-gore theatre: a plight of course grue to our heads already taking in sizable soundage from the next door to the race track, where we sat waiting for our dad to leave from down at the Pits. Still, even unheard drive-in horror flicks not quite experienced in the drive-in were the beasts from time tomb slime. Specially when we "EEEeeek!"-caisonally could hear a good scream from some hapless heroine across the two lots, honest engines. By witch I demean, see the next pair a'grabs.

Gore, put another way: we got to the track all those times by way of our dad's bringing us there, in that we were too young to get our own cars, I said let alone drive-in.

It was in such a monsterously horrible for hearing Kongdition we first learned of H. G.'s messier than anyone else's in its slime monster piece of horror, BLOOD FEAST, and I hoodon't know if I've ever been the same. All fangs to a trailer of terror told across the way: for this soon-tomb-"B"-showing weeks slayed her pic as seen in that trailer screamed tomb have not monsters slow munch, jest people hackting Kongpletely crazy. And I swear, over all that racket from the races below us we could, honest, hear real not reel women in real cars at the drive-in, yelling stuff like "No, we're not watching the rest of this movie, take me home NOW!" from timed tomb slimes. Rot to mention Kongplaints like "Key ripes, people in these movies are crazier than yer aunt Edna." Yeah, times were different then, of curse, and just the scumming attraction to BLOOD FEAST, state of its own, I SAID bone art as it was, made folks run from their vehicles for the rest rooms at speeds only approachable by a smellestial body. Meaning, natch, that night saw many tossed out of vehicle snack boxes that approached the speed of a vomit comet. Yup, H. G. Lewis fright then and scare had gore-fected a grue type of terror film, where even just the trailer slash scumming attraction of itself, reely and gruely, was state of the barf!

Of curse, times rattlin' chainsed fright "B" gore the end of that long aghoul bloodgest of a decade, when a fellow Pennsylvanian of mine made a little movie witch likewise tested people's terror quotient called NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, witch your humble scare-rator caught at a loco drive-in. But that's another double creature feature story, and oh wotta pair of scare! Two bad no one ever made a fear flick entitled NIGHT OF THE LIVING EDNA, I said DEAD, witch no doubt could have likewise maid for many roamin' hands and rushin' fingers guys having to quick hustle their drive-in dates home by the droves before it even got to "They're coming to get you, Barbed Bra."

Whoa, sudden flash from Horror Heaven: H. G. Lewis and William Castle are getting tombgether to film something, like fright away! I mean, sheesh, there must "B" someTHING in the air upscare! Why, ... wait, news, I SAID grues flash: There is something in the air upscare with those very titans of high-flyin' horror, and that's straight from St. Michael Myers! Not to mention St. Peter Cushing, who says "Yeah, that Herschell really got the Gore Done!"