Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series co-written by me, GLaDOS, Nicolas Cage, and a bowl of inanimate mush.
I would SO watch a TV show about this.
According to that Hermione/Bellatrix sex tape I saw, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, I did not know a wand could bend that way.
Each title will be linked to the original author, because the bowl of mush demanded it. (He is such a drama queen.) If you are one of said authors, you know the drill; All mockery is for mockery’s sake only.
What is it with cursed streets having cartoonishly evil names? You never find a cursed street called “Maplethorp”, no no, it’s always “Fear Street”, or “Knockturn Alley”, or, indeed, 100 Ghost Street: The Return Of Richard Speck.
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Really? Really, guys? Ghost Street?! Is it just a coincidence that these streets are haunted, or does every municipality try to create at least one sanctioned murder street?!
Not that I have anything to worry about, living on “Stabyouintheface Boulevard”!
Anyway, today’s flick is a found footage ghost movie about some paranormal investigators trying to find the ghost of Richard Speck, a real life mass murderer who made a habit out of raping and killing nurses, because I guess once you move to Ghost Street, USA, you have to find some appropriately fucked hobbies.
(He also collected stamps.)
The film opens with your industry standard “This is all true, fo shizzle”, played over a montage of men setting up cameras. One such man gets ghostraped right out of the movie, and we cut to the paranormal investigators, driving along as they establish their personalities. Goddammit, it’s 90210 Gacy Houseall over again!
(Just a side note, but why are all the ghosts nowadays rapists? Do screenwriters think the only way we’ll hate the villain is if they’re a rapist? Does rape give some kind of magical “Get out of being dead free” card? And if so, why haven’t the Ghostbusters handled it?!)
“He slimed me.”
Once our paranormal investigators make it to the abandoned hospital, they whip out the cameras and give the general backstory of Richard Speck, also known as… THE BIRDMAN. Wait, seriously? Sweet, now I can play Birdman Kicked My Ass!
They meet up with one of the schmucks who set up cameras earlier, named Mike, who informs our heroes that there’s no cell phone reception (that’s awfully convenient), they need to lock the doors at all time (why, do you get a lot of hobos trying to bum-fight dead serial killers?) and that murderfied fellow from before still hasn’t shown up.
HMM I WONDER WHY IT’S A MYSTERY HUH.
Mike wanders away to set up a camera, but gets his throat slit up by the Birdman. Meanwhile, we get more interaction of the ghost hunters, including the intern who’ll presumably have the same lifespan as one of the interns from Cloudy Night.
So, the stage is set: our team of plucky investigators (and presumably any hobos who wander in) will square off against the Birdman, to see who’ll kick who’s ass. (I’m putting five bucks on the Hypothetical Hobo.)
They decide to use the time honoured tradition of simply ASKING the ghost to come out and play, to which our Birdman… opens a mirror?
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Really need to step up your game, Birdypoo.
Seriously, dude. Seriously.
On the other side of the mirror is a secret vent, full of bird feathers and creepy noises. You know, the normal kind of things you put behind a mirror.
Meanwhile, outside, a new person shows up, hears some spooky noises in a pipe, tries to investigate by crawling in to the pipe crotch first, and gets his face bitten off for his troubles. Wait, I’m confused, is this a ghost, or an actual Birdman?!
Because that would be sweet.
The intern and her cameraman explore the facility, lean on the fourth wall a bit (they complain about having to get so much useless footage), and find a toilet bowl full of feathers.
So I guess whatever the ghost ate last night… it was fowl.
They hear some spooooooky noises, and check behind the wall. Lo and behold, another dead bird!
Good god, there are more dead birds in this movie than in Dead Birds.
(Yeah, that’s an actual movie. It was pretty good.)
Our team sits down for dinner and discuss how pathetic the ghost of Richard Speck is because he had such a small body count, and the real ghost they should be hunting is John Wayne Gacy, to which one of the other investigators says “nah, too overdone”.
I… I think we just wandered in to this movie’s production meeting.
“Birdman? What’s that, a ghost who kills birds? That’s stupid. Jerry, you’re stupid.”
Apparently dissing his kill count is a ghostly taboo, so the Birdman spirits the intern away while she’s off getting some cups. After yelling her name for a while, they find an elevator that’s evidently going to the basement, and go to check it out, because you lose your sense of self-preservation when you study ghosts.
Once their, they find that the elevator hasn’t moved in years, and the shaft now has a pool of water in it. Great, so is he the Fishman now?
They yell the intern’s name some more (she’s like the Mr. Beardsley of this movie) before finding her standing in a corner, covered in claw marks and hyperventilating. Christ, it’s like my first date all over again.
After tending to her wounds, they decide to ship the intern out. A fact which half the team seems furious over, and the other half is disturbingly nonchalant. I mean, one of the women ever says “I don’t think it’s really anything to be concerned about”.
REALLY, LADY?! She’s terrified beyond the capacity of rational thought, and covered in gaping wounds, and you don’t think THAT’S JUST A MITE CONCERNING?!
Oh, I cannot WAIT for Birdman to kick your ass.
It turns out that INSTEAD of just opening the door and letting the intern out, they thought that just letting her sleep on the murderapistorture bed would be a neato idea. I- just- WHAT?! It’s like all the intelligence in this movie is a balloon, and it just keeps blowing it away as it goes thrrrrb around the room.
Two of the team wander through the basement, deliver some dime store psychology, and trade exposition. Upon reaching a particularly darkened section, they pull out their camera/remote controlled car and check it out, only to discover the body of that guy at the beginning.
“Oh my god,” cries the woman. “It’s a body! It’s a body!”
Well, welcome to the fuckin’ party, lady!
No, not that kind of party. More of a “you’re all going to die” kind of party.
The jerky leader of the team tries to record one of the women getting dressed, and because the Birdman is a gentlemanly Birdman (“Caw, caw, I must say.”), he gets super-pecked and dragged away for his troubles.
They follow the trail of blood (it’s like the Yellow Brick Road, but different enough to avoid copy-right laws) to a hole in the ceiling, where they debate about who should go up there. Um. I don’t mean to harsh your creative flow, guys, but have you ever considered… oh, I dunno… LEAVING THIS GODFORSAKEN HELL HOLE AND CALLING THE COPS?!
JUST AN IDEA!
Meanwhile, we cut to the sleeping intern who is… getting ghostraped?!
Oh, COME ON! There’s one thing to joke about it, but I assure you, it’s another thing entirely to watch a woman screaming in terror and pain as a half ghost, half bird rapes her. That is an ENTIRELY NEW LOW.
FOR SHAME, MOVIE. FOR SHAME.
And I can’t think of a joke for that sentence so HERE’S A PICTURE OF A PUPPY.
The rest of the team hears her and charge off to help, but considering the movie so far, you can probably guess that they fail miserably. After seeing her blood pour under the door frame, they finally realize “oh yeah, maybe we should leave”. OH REALLY. I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED.
But they’re pretty much screwed on that idea. As previously established, every window has bars, cell phones are utterly caput, and any hope of opening the front door got dragged away with the jerky leader, because he was the only one with keys. That… was a bad idea, I’m guessing.
Eventually they hit upon the idea of finding the leader’s corpse, which is unfortunately still lodged in the ceiling. They grab the camera/remote controlled car and send him on his way, and they find the leader! Well. Part of him, really, but it was the part with pockets, so it’s all cool.
They decide to send the nubile blond girl in to find the keys, because Birdman has just been so darn accomedating to women so far, hasn’t he?
COUGHCOUGHGHOSTRAPEISNOTCOOLCOUGH
Once there, the blond can’t find the keys, and Birdman does what he is famous for. That is, he kicks her ass.
The team (who, at this point, consists of two guys and a girl) flees in terror to the roof, and discovers a still-alive Mike, because getting your throat slit is something you can just walk off.
After a quick discussion, Mike points out that “you do realize I have bolt cutters, right?” and they head to the basement to grab the tools and slice up the front gate. Mike elects that they all go as a group to find the tools, to which the rest of the group says “screw that!”.
“And the award for dumbest character in a ghost movie is… MIKE! For your award, please accept a quick death. Birdman, if you will?”
Birdman then chases the investigators all over the facility, killing another one, and gets ready to kill the last two, but he decides to let them go through some quick character development first.
The last two wander some more, then hear more tapping noises. The guy picks up a stick, hands the camera to the girl, and tells her to wait there. Then he takes two steps… and the door closes behind him.
Whoops.
The girl sprints off, and finds herself in the room where the intern died, where the secret mirror is found, and where they established at the beginning that you could escape from. She has apparently forgotten about this, and hides under the bed.
Then the Birdman drags a corpse in to the room. Then he pulls in on to the bed. Then he… starts boinking it.
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Does it count as necrophilia if one of them’s a ghost?
“What happens under the sheet STAYS under the sheet.”
She escapes the bed, runs in to the boy again, who convinces her that the only way to escape it to crawl through a tiny hole in the wall. She makes it okay, but before he can try, the Birdman helpfully makes him a bit smaller so he can fit through. By, you know. Severing his legs.
The girl, with the camera, crawls through the wall, which turns in to a pipe, and she makes it out! Unfortunately, nobody told her that birdmen aren’t confined to one building, and he immediately eviscerates her ignorance, with both claws.
Oh, and then the front gate opens, presumably to show that he could have done so the entire time.
What a jerk.
“Yeah, I COULD have opened and let them out at any time, but… you know. Fuck it.”
So that was 100: Ghost Street! How was it?
Pretty entertaining! You know, because it had… great characters? Okay, that’s a lie, they were very bland. Nice… cinematography? No, that can’t be it, it’s a found footage movie. Plentiful amounts of… boobs? No, that DEFINITELY can’t be it, I still can’t believe that ghostrape scene. That was horrific.
Near as I can tell, the only reason to watch this Birdman because hot damnhe is cool. A half bird, half ghost abomination who scurries through the darkness, killing more birds than Condemned and eating their corpses? What’s not to love?!
I would have preferred him to be a bit more bird, and a little less ghost (because actually being able to see him would be nice), but other than that, I can’t complain about Birdman.
Memory is a fickle, fickle thing. It’s entirely personal and perspective based, and where’s the fun in that?! So, if you have a memory that kicks every other memory in each orifice (starting alphabetically, then progressing counter-clockwise), you can’t share it with anyone!
Unless, of course, it’s a memory of a movie. Then you can just find the clips on YouTube and force other people to watch them until they agree with you that those movie moments are freaking awesome.
Yeah, maybe I DID watch the Digimon movie over and over again when I was little. What of it?
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And yeah, maybe I STILL wake up in a cold sweat, thinking Diaboromon is about to shank me. Stop judging me.
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And yeah, maybe I PERSONALLY nominate “go back to the beginning” as the third most memorable movie quote ever. I can think that, who said I can’t?
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And yeah, maybe I DID write this entire segment with socks on my hands. No questions, damn it, no questions!
Number Five: Can I Be Vincent Price When I Grow Up?
Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the specific clip I wanted for this. So I found an entire copy of House On Haunted Hill online, so you can just watch that instead!
I’ll wait.
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You’re… you’re not watching it, are you?
Okay, I’ll give you the cliff notes. Vincent Price is a millionaire, who invites a collection of random (yet equally greedy) people to a haunted house party. Anyone who survives the night gets 1000 dollars. And, because this is Vincent Price we’re talking about, he and his wife accessorize the party with loaded handguns.
God, it’s my high school dance all over again.
It was like the OK Corral, only with push-up bras instead of gaping bullet wounds.
The ghosts terrorize one of the guests until she snaps and shoots Vincent Price. Then it turns out that all those ‘ghosts’ were actually the wife and one of the guests who she was having an affair with. But THEN Vincent Price comes back as a skeleton and tosses them in the acid vat. But THEN it turns out Vincent Price knew all about that and was never dead!
This was the first movie I ever saw with a twist, and it ROCKED. It was a ghost story that made you believe in ghosts, then smacked you in the face and told you that you were a moron for believing in ghosts.
Plus, Vincent Price! Can’t top that.
Number Four: The Thin Man!
Man, The Thin Man was sure a great series of movies, huh?
Oh, what’s that? None of you remember that classic series about an adorable husband/wife/dog/occasionally baby team who drink Martinis by the truck load as they solve various murder mysteries?
Philistine.
Number Three: I’m Tired
This song is, quite possibly, the most useful song you’ll ever hear.
“Man, I had a hell of a night last night.”
“Oh, really? What was it, a party?”
“Yeah, we all got totally drunk and ran over a pinball machine with a moose.”
“So… I guess you’d say that you’re… ‘tired’?”
“Yeah, I’m tired.”
“TIRED OF BEING ADMIRED, TIRED OF LOVE UNINSPIRED!”
“Goddammit man we have talked about this.”
“I’VE BEEN WITH THOUSANDS OF MEN, AGAIN AND AGAIN!”
“Wait, what?!”
Number Two: “I Am… COMPLETELY Out Of Ammo”
Here’s the context you need for that scene: This is Tremors 2, a movie about killing giant worms. That charming fellow is Burt, who, throughout all of Tremors and Tremors2, has been established as the ultimate badass. After being hired to kill giant worms, Burt does just that! At least until the worms start changing.
See, when the worms eat enough, they become a hoard of little raptor things who tear apart anything with a heat signature. But, uh… nobody told Burt that.
And now he’s… COMPLETELY out of ammo. And lets face it, we all feel like that after a tough day at the office. (Is that what happens at the office? I legitimately don’t know.)
(This wins my coveted ‘second most memorable movie quote’, by the way. And who wins number one? Well…)
Number One: “I’m Getting Married In Two Days”
You knew this was coming.
I mean, come on. A guy proclaiming the date of his marriage at the same time as a giant shark eats an airplane?
That shouldn’t just be remembered, that should be our fucking national anthem.
I know what you mean. Like, when you had to sexually service an entire Mongol hoard using only a tea kettle and a small chihuahua? Yikes.
That… that never happened. I work at an office. I did office things all day. What the hell are you talking about?
Hey, I understand, man. If I had to look Genghis Kahn straight in the eye while I rubbed his taint with a collicy puppy, I wouldn’t want to remember it either.
Look, Subconscious, shut the fuck up. I just want to sit here, drink my beer, and- oh crap, that girl is totally looking at me!
Damn, she’s hot! I think she looks a little worried, though.
Yeah, good point.
She probably just thinks you’re the dominant male.
I… wait, what?
Show her she’s wrong! Urinate submissively! Urinate submissively!
No, I’m just going to talk to her! One second, lemme work my magic.
Gotcha, chief.
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You’re flailing, chief.
YES THANK YOU I REALIZE THAT.
She’s leaving, chief.
YES I ALREADY KNOW THAT.
“Um, hi. You… have excellent shoulders! Yessir, those are some damn fine shoulders OH GOD NO DON’T LEAVE.”
Now what? Shall we sit here while you drink your liver in to oblivion?
That sounds like a solid ide- hey, she forgot her wallet!
Steal it! Buy more booze!
No, dude, think about it: I could take it to her apartment, then get sloppy gratitude smooches!
I like the creepy, creepy way you think, sir. Stalk away!
Okay, she has a business card in here with her picture. Apparently she’s a model and- hey, that’s only a couple blocks from here.
Onward, gallant knight! Lets ignore all the many, many reasons that this is a terrible idea!
I made a chart, actually. See, the green slice represents that bottle of absinthe you just slammed up your ass…
Look, there it is!
Nice apartment. The kind of place you wouldn’t feel sorry for burning down and collecting the insurance on.
What was that?
Nothing. Shut up. Your face. Take your pick.
So, should I just knock on the front door?
No, you should go around to the back, break in through the window, and leave it on her bed. You know, pull off that whole ‘Repunzel’ vibe.
I am drunk enough to completely believe that. Then again, I’m also drunk enough that my blood is pure acid. Which window?
Um. That window! It has ‘smash me open with your primary sexual characteristic’ written all over it.
Okay, I’m in. I think… I think I’m in the kitchen. Ooh, she’s cooking something!
What’s she cooking? Is it boiling oil? Is it boiling oil?!
No, it’s a respectable pasta dish. I think… is that pesto sauce?
You know, I never really pegged you for a noodle scholar.
Nah, I never studied. They kicked me out after I killed a- OH MY GOD.
Is it boiling oil?!
No! It’s her! She’s screaming at me to get out!
Quick, pledge your love to her! It’s the only way to escape!
I’m pretty sure it isn’t!
Is she still yelling?
No, now she’s calling the police! And she’s grabbing-
Boiling oil?! TELL THE TRUTH YOU BASTARD.
Normal oil! Oh god, it’s in my eyes.
Oh. That’s a lot less impressive.
Yeah, I was expecting something a lot more- SWEET JESUS THE OIL HIT THE PASTA ON THE STOVE!
BOLLOCKS.
AHHHHHHH IT’S ON FIRE!
I don’t really have a suggestion for this kind of thing!
NOW I’M ON FIRE TOO! OH SWEET BUTTERY BUDDHA WHY DID I DO THIS ARRGLEFARGLERAWRRR!
(Recently, I experienced intense pain in my jaw. Upon checking up with my dentist, I discovered that my wisdom teeth are coming in, which would normally not result in much. The problem is, my jaw is a bit buggered, so my molars accidentally tore a hole in my gums. Now I have a minor infection, and I have to take antibiotics. I’ll be seeing a specialist about the problem soon.)
(I’m telling you this to give the following song context.)
I’m infected.
Sigh.
I’m infected… by dental hygienics.
“Erik, I’m your doctor.”
“By the way, I knew your father.”
“Oh Erik, you’re so tall!”
“Take your medicine!”
I’m infected… by dental hygienics.
“Erik, you’re my patient.”
“Erik, be more patient!”
“You have limitations, please stop chewing gum.”
“Please stop screaming curses!”
“Stop bleeding on the nurses!”
That’s what is expected, when you are infected!
I’m infected, by dental hygienics.
I’m infected, by dental hygienics!
And I don’t think that I can be fixed,
No, I don’t think that I can be fixed!
So tell me why, oh why, is dental hygienics such a bitch?!
(Actually, it’s a relatively simple problem to fix, simply involving minor dental surgery and antibiotics, but that doesn’t fit very well in to a song.)
That’s me, apparently.
It’s this damn bone structure,
Damn this damn bone structure!
Mother, can you hear me?
I’m just wondering, cause you’re in the other room!
Now I’ll be inspected.
My mouth’ll be dissected.
That’s to be expected, when you are infected!
How much of it’s genetics?
How much of it is fate?
How much of it is due to those gummies that I ate?
He said my mouth has problems, did I also inherit these fangs?
Can the specialist stop it,
And if so, how much will I paaaaaaaaay?
I’m infected, by dental hygienics.
I’m infected, by dental hygienics!
What hope has a girl (wait, what) who’s mouth hurts?
I dream of some food past that fence!
It really makes no difference.
Cause I know that I’ll never be fixed!
(That’s a lie.)
So tell me why, oh why, is my infection such a bitch?!
Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series where “reminding me of the babe” is punishable by court martial.
“So it’s decided: David Bowie’s cod piece is really fucking disturbing.”
According to the note I passed Jesus during math class, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, “Do you like me, yes or no? Meet me by the crucifix, I’ll give you another note there”.
Each title will be linked to the original author because you wished upon a star, you corporatist son of a bitch.If you are one of said authors, howdy! Help yourself to the complimentary virgin sacrifice, and remember; All mockery is for mockery’s sake only, and should not be taken seriously.
Ahem.
The Maps Of Our Private Worlds:“Everybody, welcome to the tour of my private world! Here, take these maps. Now, over here we have the ‘Things I’d Like To Light On Fire’, and over there we have the ‘Episodes Of Gilmore Girls that I secretly liked’, and- HEY! Who just went in the ‘Cavern Of Infinite Yaoi’?! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get out of there?!”
Specifically, with the kicking thereof! Action movies, fighting games, and violent books have all combined together to create an entire culture fixated on fighting, violence, and face-punches.
It’s officially our new currency.
But you can’t just kick some butt/punch some face! No, you need some rocking tunes to go along with it! Unless you already live in an action movie, in which case you already have a full orchestra following you around 24/7 to hype up the slaughter.
Anyway, top seven butt-kicking songs!
Ahem.
Number Seven: At The Opera Tonight
When You Would Listen To It: You’re a trouble-maker. (At least for the sake of this role-play. Just roll with me, okay?) You’re sitting in class, counting how many of your fellow classmates are discreetly masturbating under the table.
(A lot, is the answer.)
Suddenly, you’re called to the office! It turns out the school is finally on to your “Cocaine Yam” scam, and now you have to go talk to your parents.
So, you slip on this song, and start walking down the halls.
By the time you reach the office, you’ve already killed two student teachers and are now wearing a potted plant on your head.
Number Six: We Will Rock You
When You Would Listen To It: This song has street fight written all over it. I imagine two groups of thugs marching at each other, each beating the beat at the same time.
But I can see that being awkward if you’re the one guy in the whole gang who doesn’t know the song.
“You fuckers try to move in our territory?! We’re gonna cut you like a fucking trou-”
“FRANKIE!”
“What?!”
“We’re trying to sing!”
Number Five: Brand New Sucker
When You Would Listen To It: Ah, hello, Jonathan Coulton. We’ve been expecting you.
And if you honestly cannot think of a situation in which listening to a break-up song would be appropriate, then I am afraid I must make you drink a bucket of grain alcohol and hang out at the emo bar.
Number Four: Brand New Day
When You Would Listen To It: This appeared as a point in the list, cause at first it was weird that I swore to come up with seven songs, the best of the songs to devour humanity, it’s true, I was vague on the song, so how can it be that you… have shown me the song?
…
“And the award for ‘most out of place Dr. Horrible parody’ goes to… Erik! Congratulations! You suck! Also, why did we have that award in the first place? Seems like kind of a niche market.”
Number Three: Eye Of The Tiger
When You Would Listen To It: So, this time around, you’re a debater. You’ve been in the debate club for years, and you’re at the final debate championship, and if you fail, they’ll release the tigers. (Full disclosure: I have no idea how debating works.)
You have ten minutes to the show. You need to hype yourself up. You look at your copy of Eye Of The Tiger…
Naturally, you win the debate by technical knock-out.
Number Two: Battle Without Honour Or Humanity
When You Would Listen To It: Normally, this is where I’d say something about ‘listening to this song in a kung-fu fight’, but lets face it: You’re far more likely to listen to this while you’re cleaning the house.
“DUNNN! CLE-A-NING THE COUCH! VACUUMING THE RUG… CAUSE-IT-SMEEEEELLS!”
(Would it be shameful to say that I’ve totally done that? In which case, I’VE NEVER DONE THAT WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT I’M TOTALLY MANLY AND I LISTEN TO THIS WHILE HAVING ALL OF THE SEX.)
Number One: Space “Motherfucking” Jam
When You Wouldn’t Listen To It: Hell, I should probably rename this to “when SHOULDN’T you listen to it” because, as far as I know, Space Jam should be listened to 24/7.
Make it replace our national anthem, no, ALL national anthems! It’ll be the new ringtone! It’ll be judge, jury, and sexecutioner! All will know of it’s majesty!
SPACE JAM WILL LEAD ALL AND KNOW ALL. ALL HAIL SPACE JAM!
Now, if you excuse me, I need to go door to door and spread the good word of Space Jam.
As a wise man once said, “Add a dog to the story. Everybody likes a dog”. And then he died a lot, but that doesn’t discount his knowledge! Or maybe it does, I forget.
(Just a side note, but think of how many true stories you could add “and then he died a lot”. It would make The Social Network a hell of a lot better, that’s for damn sure.)
Anyway, the point is: WE HAVE A DOG! Yes, a dog. Unlike literally anyone else who ever lived in the history of ever, we have a dog!
Now, one might reasonably say “why the hell are you telling us this this isn’t interesting in even the slightest way and you’ve already established yourself as a comedy website I mean seriously what the hell”.
A VERY STRANGE PLACE 
