Beal's Column (1/2026)

Deadline: 1/27/26     

                                                                     OLD???

                                                                                                 by Nicholas Beal

There isn’t much that makes me lose my shit nowadays. Well, if I’m being completely honest, everything on the world stage does. But I’m more talking about the “trivial” stuff that used to drive me up a fucking wall. In particular, people with whom I am extremely close who limit themselves to certain periods of time, where it comes to their horror likes and dislikes. I know some absolutely brilliant people in the horror community who, for reasons unknown to me, have decided that anything made after 1968 is out of bounds for them. Now, I’m not talking about the Hammer Studios offerings from the 1970s. I mean those old bitch session goodies like: Night Of The Living Dead, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Evil Dead, Re-Animator, I Madman, Shaun Of The Dead, Tucker And Dale Vs Evil, The Autopsy Of Jane Doe and tons of other brilliant films that share only one crime against humanity in that they were released after Night Of The Living Dead came out. And that’s just a small sample of what my compadres are missing by limiting themselves to the golden oldies of horror. Don’t get me wrong. There are gobs of amazing movies from the 1920s, through the 1960s. Too many to count. But to pretend that everything that came after Psycho or the Corman Poe films or early Hammer classics don’t exist is just nuts-o-roony!

Now, I don’t play that "What’s your favorite horror movie?" game. I find it pedantic and not-at-all interesting. It’s what a person asks you when they have nothing to ask you. So, when a “date” asks me that question, I just tell her that her money is on the dresser, I take a sip of bourbon, roll over and nod off.

Now, I hear ya shouting at me with wild abandon, “You go Beal! Tell ’em not to ignore the new stuff! It’s a hell of a lot better than that old craggily junk, with its shitty sound and bad picture quality.”

And to you guys, I say, “What in the blue fuck are you idiots talking about? Shitty sound? Bad picture quality? What are you watching… SLP speed VHS?”

Look, the plain unadulterated truth is that many of the classics are on Blu-Ray and/or 4K. They have never looked better. Especially Son Of Frankenstein and the 1932 version of The Black Cat. Those were visually stunning to begin with, back when they were new. Now, with modern digital technology, they are damned near orgasmic in their crystal clarity. And speaking of orgasmic, give me about seven minutes to tend to my sleepover companion’s “needs” and I’ll be right back. My apologies, but when I got the call about fifteen minutes back reminding me that this column was due by sunup today, I was right in the middle of someone.

Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah…

Yeah, if any of you thought by me saying that you should get into post-1968 modern era movies that I also meant you should forsake the 1922-1967 golden era of filmmaking, then you are way dopier than I gave you credit for. I mean really, people! For every Bride Of Frankenstein, there is a Misery. For every War Of The Worlds, there is The Silence Of The Lambs. And if you honestly don’t know where horror has been, can you ever know where it’s headed? I think not.

So, I hope this little chat of ours has helped you realize that Professor Beal knows of which he speaks and expects you to pay attention and take notes, when needed. This shit might show up on the test and if you flunk, Uncle Nicholas is going to get medieval on your ass… more than likely literally, instead of just figuratively.

And speaking of getting medieval on somebody’s… well, you know… it looks like someone’s awake and ready for round two.

Later.

RJS's Column (1/2026)

Good To Go                                         

                                                            Mightier Than The Sword

                                                                                                    by Richard J. Schellbach

I began my writing career way back in nineteen hundred and eighty-four, year of our Lord. That’s right… it was so long ago that people would spell out the year instead of using numbers and would say, “year of our Lord” after the year. Okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating just a tad. But nineteen hundred and eighty-four (year of our Lord) was as long ago from today as nineteen hundred and forty-two (YOOL) was from nineteen hundred and eighty-four. Thus ends today’s math lesson. (And none too soon.)

I had spent the better part of the years 1980 through 1984 making practical special effects for children’s television specials. If you are of a certain age, you probably watched those specials on the Showtime cable network. I loved that job but it wasn’t what I ultimately wanted to do. You see, I’ve always wanted to write. Well, to be honest, once I realized that the New York Yankees weren’t going to call and place me in right field, I turned my attention, full time, to writing. So much so that I went into Junior High School (now called Middle School) making sure that I aced subjects like Art, English, Spelling, etc and paid virtually no attention to Math, Gym, Social Studies, Geography and the like. They bored me to tears and did nothing whatsoever to bring me closer to my dream of being a Writer.

With a combination of luck, talent, a fair amount of help from people like Paul Fusco and Ned Kandel (not to mention the unwavering support of my parents) I had a successful career as a Television Writer. I had 49 teleplays (TV scripts) produced and aired and I am relatively proud of all of them, in one way or another; meaning I think some of them are better than others but none of them are out and out trash.

During my TV writing career, I was also Story Consultant in the fourth season of ALF, handled the copy writing chores for the myriad ALF merchandise... and I had two books published. Good times. Although I never thought I’d enjoy anything more than writing for TV, almost overnight I suddenly found myself considered too old to do the job I loved. You see as a TV Writer, by the time you hit forty years of age, the powers that be start wondering why you’re not a Producer or Director or Show Runner yet. They begin to wonder if you have no drive. Of course it never hits them that you wanted to be a Writer since you were seven and now that you’ve successfully achieved your lofty goal, you’re extremely happy to be just that. To be perfectly honest, I have directed exactly one scene in my entire life and if given the chance to direct again or have a root canal, I’d gladly monetarily assist my Dentist in sending his three kids, Jonathan, Melissa and Rebekah, to Yale for four year. No, I will gladly leave the directing to those who fancy themselves more stylish and creative, visually, than I. And I will continue to show the darkness in the recesses of my soul through my id... and my writing.

So, what comes after a successful television writing career? A successful print writing career… and I have been extremely fortunate to have that too. I had the chance to write for magazines like Cinefantastique’s Ultimate Guide To Zombies and Sci-Fi Entertainment Magazine. The latter brought me to being a Columnist. And I was the Managing Editor of Entertainment Retailing Magazine. (I know… That is one hell of a catchy title!)

So, what is a Columnist? Well, instead of a writer who reports facts in articles, my columns tend to have elements of comedy more than anything else… even though I have certainly tackled dead serious subjects, along the way. A Columnist brings himself or herself along for the ride, into the actual story. So, for instance, I don’t look back to Night Of The Living Dead being released, I look back on my seeing Night Of The Living Dead upon its initial release at the Strand Theater, in Hamden, Connecticut back when I was age 13. It talks less about the country’s reaction to this genre-changing film and more of my specific reaction. In plain words, it’s all about me. And while it’s not quite as narcissistic as it sounds, there is a wee bit of that involved in the process. You can bet, nickels to navy beans, that I’m involved in at least a smidgeon of each column I write. (And sometimes, a whole shit-ton more than a smidgeon.) And as a Columnist, I’ve had the most successful career of my… uhhh… career. I wrote a monthly slice-of-life column for Parkland Life Magazine, in Florida, for 14 years. I’ve written monthly columns for Mondo Cult Online, and I’ve been a Staff Columnist for Famous Monsters Of Filmland Magazine, Undying Monsters Magazine, and Mondo Cult Magazine.

Which brings me here; Richard J. Schellbach’s MonsterKid Central. Where, finally, it really is all about me… (Well, at least the title is.) I have some fantastic Writers and Columnists working here and a Managing Editor who is absolutely amazing! Because to be totally honest, even though I own the site and co-own the podcast, MonsterKid Fury, the last thing I want to be is in charge of this insane asylum. Because at almost 70 years of age, I’d rather leave all of that to the grownups.

Till next time, Adios! I’m a ghost.

Rick's Column (FEBRUARY '26)

Good To Go.

Stranger Things Have Happened

A Film Fury

by Rick Patterson

The first day of 2026 has happened. So has the finale of Stranger Things. Two hours ago, I sat with my wife, daughter and a theater of fans who chose to endure 32 degree weather, instead of watching the final chapter of the series in their warm, toasty surroundings. It was a near 10 year journey and I was in tears for a good portion of it. Now, anyone who knows me at this stage of my life is aware that I spend a good amount of time shedding tears. Nothing new there. But the finale hit me on a grand level. One I did not expect. I wasn’t a fan of nearly all of Season Five on the front end. In some instances, the acting ability of the aging cast seemed tainted by a roller coaster of poor writing choices. Even the episodes directed by Frank Darabont, one of the most unsung filmmakers of our time, failed to click with me. But the finale which, let’s be honest, plays out like a blockbuster movie, was able to perform a monumental course correct that rivaled big screen filmmaking.

I have never subscribed to the theory of any art existing for a sole age, sexual identity or ethnicity. You tell a good story, and you’ll find those who want it told to them. That being said, I can’t help but to see the series as a true love letter to Generation X, Stephen King, science fiction and horror. I remember the first time I heard of this new Netflix show, this “Stranger Things.” I was listening to the long ended podcast Killer P.O.V., hosted by a crew who are now filmmakers in their own right. Rob Gullazzo, the director of The Psycho Legacy, asked his cohorts if they had caught the series in its premiere week. They had not. And Rob sold it to them, like hard. The moment I heard it took place in the 80s I was in. The show was made for people like us. We would pick up on every little nuance. I told the fam about it and we embarked on it together. And though my wife and kids didn’t see where the series creators, the Duffer Brothers, were wearing their inspirations on their sleeves. I, and many fans of the fantastic and macabre, surely did. And it was amazing.

Every nod to geek culture in the series never felt exploitative. It was the feeling we had, watching the original Star Wars and seeing the inspirations of Flash Gordon and Akira Kurosawa. And seemingly overnight, millions of viewers were drawn into the tale of a young girl, ultimately given the name Eleven, from a mysterious tattoo on her forearm. Her connection to an alternate world below us, known as The Upside Down. The bond between her and a group of D&D geeks her own age. Hopper, a lost father and Sheriff of the town of Hawkins. Will Beyers, one of their own, who is sucked into the dark world. It led us on a grand journey that, truly, we never wanted to end. Who could blame us? The music. BMX bikes. Video games. Comic books. If you grew up in that world, it nailed what it was like to be a kid during that time. It hit me in the feels because I lived that. Well, outside of the Demigorgons. But there was a dog that would chase us about the neighborhood on the way home from school. That first season left us feverish for more. And that trailer for Season Two with Jackson’s Thriller playing?! With Hopper and his line over the montage: Whatever is happening… is spreading from this place. Holy shit! Watch it. Like now. Stop reading this. Search it up, as the kids say. And enjoy. It’s one of my favorite trailers of all time.

Did you watch it? Rockin’, right? Where was I? I remember watching American Graffiti and Dirty Dancing with my Mom. She confessed her love for those films and how they made her feel. That was her time. Elvis, Ed Sullivan, records on the mini turntable. And she shared all of that with her sons, nephews and friends. And I would say most of her pop culture loves have stuck with me throughout my life. I was the only 14 year old rocking The Midnight Hour on his audio cassette mixes, circa 1986.

With Stranger Things I was able to do that with my own kids. I was able to point out everything from the era that their Dada had experienced. Those radical two story malls? Yup. I was there. Arcades with Donkey Kong, Pac-Man and Frogger? I was there placing my quarter on the edge of the cabinet, signifying I was next to go toe to toe with the Bishop Of Battle! Rectangle pizza before Detroit style was even on the lips of teen culture? One or two slices. Who was I kidding? I was a fat kid… Three slices every Saturday afternoon after watching Ghostbusters. Yes, my children. We even watched movies at the mall, followed by the trek home and playing outside until dark. Oooooo. The setting of the sun and the transition to streetlights coming to life, on Cherry Avenue... was the kid alarm for "get your ass home!" Then a sleepover with friends. Playing Atari and horror movies until we drifted off into slumber. Only to start the fun all over again.

Which leads me to something. If you listen or watch my comrades and me on the YouTube/podcast experiments of ours, you know we tend to verge. One moment we could be waxing philosophical on some Hammer Horror, then slam cut to us two minutes later worshipping Pumpkinhead. We do some major league verging, boys and girls. So here it is. Can we stop throwing gatekeeping around so much? Really. It’s old. Trite. And a completely weak argument. Rich is a boomer. I’m a card carrying member of Gen X. And you know what? We love sharing our fandom. There’s no attempt at ownership of these strange things we hold dear. See what I did there? What it comes down to is this. We just have little patience for those who come in and treat our stuff like a placeholder until they find something else to tickle their fancy. Like those jocks who ridiculed us for reading comics, only to see them wearing Captain America and Iron Man shirts in line during Marvel Phase One. (You know who you are!)

Now, it’s done. Finished!. So, what now? What to do with my (as described to me by Michael Ironside at a convention in 2024) extra innings... given after my near fatal heart attack. I’ve thought about that a lot since November, 2022. And even more since the end of our Hawkins campaign. I don’t want fame. I just want to create something that some kids will remember and take with them into adulthood when they need it. I had that. My kids have it. I can do it for others. I think. You never know…. stranger things have happened.

See you in Pittsburgh!

Rick's Column (1/2026)

Good To Go

The Most Terrifying Motion Picture Ever Made!

A Film Fury

by Rick Patterson

Rich, the creator of MonsterKid Central, and I are pretty chill individuals. Like the Commodores said, Easy Like Sunday Morning. Until a normie throws the gauntlet. A question. But one of THOSE questions. You know? The ones that make you want to turn the room into a Kumite match in front of everyone. Like that one time, (Remember, Rich?) when we were in the ass crack of South Florida and teamed up with the cats from Retro Movie Geek Podcast against that elevated horror fan group called The Slow Burn Society. No? Yeah, well, we did swear to never speak of it again. So much red in the ledger. Where was I? Oh, yes. Dumbass questions you’re asked when they know you’re one of those… those… horror people. You write that stuff? Those movies entertain you? Did something happen to you when you were a child? And even after convincing someone at the dinner party, barbecue or parent teacher conference that you are perfectly normal. And when they realize you are in fact just as normal… gulp… as them, it moves into a new line of questioning. What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen? Like the most terrifying. Ah, shit. That one. Again! Asking a lover of the genre what’s their “favorite” scary movie is like asking you to choose between Near Dark and The Lost Boys. Wait! You have to excuse me. I was recently discharged from the hospital with a bout of walking pneumonia, so I’m not thinking straight. Near Dark any day of the week. Let me rephrase. It’s like asking you to choose between Salma Hayek and Pam Grier! Wait. Damn. That doesn’t even work. How could you choose really? One played a vampire, the other was Foxy Brown! You get me though... Right?

One of the most amazing elements of the myriad horror genres, including the sub-genres, is its ability to exist on multiple levels. Some will set out to disturb. Others will thrill you like a roller coaster. Some will take you to places you don’t want to go. You may even laugh aloud at the images. And, yes, some of them will scare the living shit out of you. No remorse. Running through your psyche long after the credits have rolled. What is the scariest film ever made? The most terrifying motion picture ever committed to celluloid? My answer has changed over time. Until the last few years. Anyone looking around my office will see many a clue. You’ll see the mainstays I love so much. Freddy, Jason, Chucky and Pinhead. Sam from Trick 'r Treat. Michael Myers and his "blackest eyes." The sad souls of The Blair Witch Project. But, as you slowly scan the shelves with assorted movies, books and toys, a common image will stick out. A hulking figure with a deformed mask. A dirty shirt, once white, now a tarnished, bloody beige. His weapon says it all. The most terrifying motion picture ever made, my little normie? I give you The Texas Chain Saw Massacre!

Now, before you jump all over me with “What about The Exorcist? Night Of The Living Dead? Halloween? Ghost Dad?" (Heh, heh) No one is saying those are not scary, horrific films. But, I have thought about this deep into the night. And for my money it has to be the Tobe Hooper effort.

My Mom told me not to watch it. I didn’t listen. I mean, how bad could it be? I survived A Nightmare On Elm Street. Maniac. The Amityville Horror. Countless others. And she said those were too scary for me. So, she never rented it. Didn’t look for it on cable. Eventually it happened. Mom was tired from work. She turned in early during our weekend horror movie fest. My little brother Michael went with her, falling asleep next to her in bed. I was alone, and after Joe Bob signed off for the evening, The Movie Channel aired it. I wasn’t even looking for it. To be brutally honest, I was at that age. And the only things better than horror were the sex comedies and skin flicks that could be found on late night. Instead of Porky’s or Emmanuelle I was met with a nightmare. I sat in front of the 32” Zenith with John Larroquette telling me with his deadpan, monotone voice, this was real. The music wasn’t a score. It was a mic recording the sounds of Hell. The now iconic sound of camera flashes wouldn’t stop. If I could get to a daytime sequence, I’ll be good. I’ll find the strength and change the channel. Then daylight. With the image of a scarecrow-like figure made from random bones and body parts! I should have grabbed the remote the moment I was introduced to the kids. Amusingly enough, I thought of them as adults. Now, they’re kids to me. Hooper got me. He gave me this feeling like I can handle this. My teen self was even eyeing the curves of Sally and Pam. I started laughing at the cook’s helper, pulling his window cleaning kit. And Franklin! This whiny bastard was killing me. He made Shelly from Friday The 13th Part III seem cool for fuck’s sake.

Then there's that damned house! I was ready. I’ve seen slashers. I know how this works. Kirk is walking up the stairs. Music? There should be some music right now to prepare me for the scare! What’s going on here? This isn’t feeling like a movie. Kirk enters. And then HE reveals himself. Leatherface. No music cue. No warning. Unlike Jason, with his rock star vibe, Leatherface seemed real. Too real. And that’s how the rest of the film played out. Real. It feels like one of the chain saw family was given a Bolex and allowed to go full Peeping Tom. No escape. No Rangers raiding the house. Even with Sally seemingly the victor. She loses. We lose as the viewer. No exit for anyone.

Horror films have a purpose. Quite simply, to make you not look back as you run for your fucking life. Hooper succeeded in this, even while stating that the film was meant to be satire. Leatherface doesn’t quip. Doesn’t play with a victim moments before taking their life. He’s a force that won’t stop. He’s the past, reminding the present that no amount of technology will save your ass. Slashers always die. Or at least go dormant. He doesn’t. And he won’t come for you. He waits. Waits for you to foolishly wander into somewhere you don’t belong. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is truly the most terrifying motion picture ever made. How do I know that? One night I was installing an HVAC system. 3 a.m. Alone in an attic. My back was to the access. Every creak. Every sound. In my mind it wasn’t a burglar. Wasn’t Freddy or Jason. I knew that, dollars to donuts, it was Leatherface entering that attic... rising up behind me. I wouldn’t even get a music cue to prepare me for the whack of a hammer or the revving of a chain saw. Thanks for the fear, Mr. Hooper.

See you in Pittsburgh!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

NEW RJS COLUMN - ALREADY ON SITE

'Twas The Night Of The Living Dead

by Richard J. Schellbach

(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas as I lay in bed,
Not a creature was stirring…except for the dead.

Some old boards were nailed over windows, with care,
In hopes that no flesh-eaters could get through there.

My wife in her nightshirt and me in my britches
Had just settled in, with our thirty-aught sixes.

The children were terrified under their beds;
They just kept repeating, "Dad, aim for their heads."

'Cause out on the lawn we had been hearing moaning,
The screams of the innocent and occasional groaning.

So away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore off an old board and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to zombies below.

Then what through my Remington scope should appear
But a rotted old sleigh and eight undead reindeer.

With a red-suited driver whom I, instantly,

Determined was Santa… or, he used to be.

As the reindeer flew towards me I raised up my gun
And squeezing the trigger, I shot at each one--

Shot Dasher! Whacked Dancer! Hit Prancer and Vixen!
Popped Comet! Plugged Cupid! Capped Donder and Blitzen!

From my 'lectrified fence to my ten-foot-high wall,
I blew away, blew away, blew away all!

But more dead folks appeared as the others lay slain.
They gathered together and forward they came!

Then up to the front porch to start the attack,
With dead zombie Santa at the head of the pack.

And mere minutes later, that bastard Kris Kringle
Climbed up on the lattice and clawed each roof shingle.

As I quickly reloaded and went whipping around,
Down the chimney dead Santa Claus came with a bound.

He was dressed all in red, from his head to his feet,
And his clothes were all bloody from victims he'd eat.

The bag that had carried toys and candy canes,
Instead was all filled up with human remains.

His eyes - like white marbles! His throat was just hissing!
His cheeks were all hollow; his nose, it was missing!

The beard on his chin was all matted with blood,
And his left ear fell off - hit the floor with a thud.

He had pink flesh hanging from between his teeth.
And the flies all encircled his head like a wreath.

He was fetid and bloated, a rancid old lout.
And I screamed when I saw him, and almost passed out.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Gave me to know I'd soon join the undead.

He clawed at my stomach, then went straight to his work.
He grabbed my intestines, then gave them a jerk.

And after he fed, he threw open the door
And let in some zombies - 'bout 60 or more.

As they fed on my entrails and drained me of life,
I saw them devour my kids and my wife.

And the last thing I heard were these words Santa said:
"Merry Christmas to all… in the land of the dead!"

Michael Richardson (1/2026)

Good To Go

THE KEEP (1983) 96 Min. Rated R

Michael Mann’s The Keep has a troubled background. Cut down from well over two hours to ninety-six minutes by the studio, guaranteed that Mann had nothing good to say about the movie when it was finally released and, although it boasts some Grade A acting talent, (including Scott Glenn, Ian McKellen, Jurgen Prochnow and Gabriel Byrne) they weren’t the kinds of actors Johnny Carson would regularly seek out as guests for the Tonight Show. Therefore, the movie got no initial release buzz.

The Keep got a home video VHS release after its theatrical run. But, let’s face it, everything was on videotape in the first half of the eighties. After that, there was nothing when Laserdiscs, DVDs and Blu-Rays were king… at least not in the good ol’ U.S. of A. There has been home video and streaming releases in the new century. Alas, it was too late by then for a new generation to find much appreciation for it.

But there are many reasons to watch this one. Like just about everything else Michael Mann has directed, The Keep looks nothing like its contemporaries. The effects are top notch, as are the acting performances, and the music drives the film along like the best of Tangerine Dream’s scores. Now, thankfully, you can find it on disc on Amazon and even streaming in a few places.

Seek this one out, if you missed it, all these years. It’s well worth the watch.

1 The Fog

Antonio Bay, CA Weather:

Foggier Than A Dickens Novel

2 F13

Crystal Lake, NJ Weather:

A Nice Mild Week For Camping

3 Dark Shadows

Collinsport, ME Weather:

Darker Than Usual For This Time Of Year

4 Wizard Of Oz

Liberal, KS Weather:

Tornadic Activity Expected

5 Revenge Of The Creature

Ocean Harbor, FL Weather:

Cloudier Than Lagoon Water

6 Stephen King Town

Castle Rock, ME Weather:

Storm Of The Century Threat

7 Invasion Of The Body Snatchers

Santa Mira, CA Weather:

An Exact Duplicate Of Yesterday

8 Twilight Zone

Happiness, AZ Weather:

Darkest Around Twilight

9 Beetlejuice

Winter River, CT Weather:

Cloudy Skies! Cloudy Skies! Cloudy Skies!

10 Scream

Woodsboro, IL Weather

A Good Day To Hang In The Backyard

11 X-Files

Dudley, AR Weather:

The Trough Is Out There

12 Eerie Indiana

Eerie, IA Weather:

Tornado Days

13 The Crazies

Ogden Marsh, OH Weather:

Crazy Storm Patterns

14 Buffy

Sunnydale, CA Weather:

New Moon Rising

15 Twin Peaks

Twin Peaks, WA Weather:

Black As Midnight On A Moonless Night

16 The Vampire Diaries

Mystic Falls, VA Weather:

Sucky

17 BTTF

Hill Valley, CA Weather:

88 Mile Per Hour Winds

18 ANOES

Springwood, OH Weather:

Frigid – Good Glove Weather

19 Monster Of Piedras Blancas

Piedras Blancas, CA Weather:

Hotter Than Hell

20 Stranger Things

Hawkins, IA Weather:

Rain Level – Eleven

21 Trick R Treat

Warren Valley, OH Weather:

Slick - When Hail Freezes Over

22 The Birds

Bodega Bay, CA Weather

Rain Falling Risselty Rosselty Now, Now, Now

23 Halloween

Haddonfield, IL Weather

Shaping Up To Be A Nasty Day

24 Silent Hill

Silent Hill, WV Weather:

Drier Than A Bone

25 Jaws

Amity Island, MA Weather:

A Nice Day For Fishing

26 Firefly

Firefly, SC Weather:

Chilly – Wear Your Browncoat

27 House Of Wax

Ambrose, LA Weather:

A Good Day To Wax Nostalgic

28 Ginger Snaps

Baily Downs, ONT Weather:

Cold Snaps All Week

29 Freaks Of Nature

Dillford, OH Weather:

Insane Rain - Nature Freaking Out

30 Squirm

Fly Creek, GA Weather:

Woolly Worms Predict A Mild Winter

31 Super 8

Lillian, OH Weather:

Only 0.31496063 Inches Of Rain

32 Goosebumps

Madison, DE Weather:

Goosebump Weather All Week

33 Donny Darko

Middlessex, VA Weather:

Snowfall After Darko

34 A Quiet Place 2

Millbrook, NY Weather:

Calm – All Quiet

35 Terrifier

Miles County, NY Weather:

Terrifying Lightening Storms

36 The Ring

Moesko Island, WA Weather:

Ring Of Fire Weather Patterns

37 Final Destination

Mt Abraham, NY Weather:

Calm – No chance Of Turbulence

38 Silent Hill

Nickeltown, TN Weather:

Incredibly Foggy

39 Tremors

Perfection, NV Weather:

Far From Perfect Weather

40 Christine

Rockbridge, CA Weather:

A Perfect Day To Go For A Drive

41 Demolition Man

San Angeles, CA Weather:

It Never Rains In San Angeles

42 Misery

Silver Creek, CO Weather:

More Cockadoodie Snow

43 Goosebumps 2

Wardenclyffe, NY Weather:

Frigid – It’s Chill-Pimples Time

44 The World’s End

Newton Haven, UK Weather:

Rain, Like It’s The End Of The World

45 Delores Clairborne

Little Tall Island, MA Weather:

A Forecast To Die For

46 Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me

Deer Meadow, WA Weather:

Good Walking Weather

47 Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark

Mill Valley, PA Weather:

Nonstop Snow, Is Today’s Story

H A P P Y

M O N S T E R K I D

M O N D A Y !

MonsterKid Fury

The Podcast That Bites Back!

A Shotgun Wedding Between

"Richard J. Schellbach's MonsterKid Central" &

"Rick Patterson's Film Fury!"

Cale Patterson; Moderator, Editor and Producer

Rick Patterson

Rich Schellbach

On YouTube and Wherever Fine Podcasts Are Heard

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Richard J. Schellbach's MonsterKid Central

"For The MonsterKid In You"

Our Managing Editor is Kathy Bennett. Kathy was an educator for over 30 years and is a huge asset to Richard J. Schellbach's MonsterKid Central. She tells us all where we can stick our exclamation points and is responsible for some of our biggest decisions. We are so fortunate to have her (along with her mad grammatical skills) in our front office, literally working seven days a week.

Our Masthead's Photographer is Eileen Skolnik. She's charged with the impossible task of making me look good in all of my promotional endeavors. The site wouldn't look the same without her... and neither would I.

Rick Patterson Columnist

Cale Patterson Writer

Here's my Panels schedule for Aug 8-10, at MONSTERAMA CON in Atlanta, GA.

Friday at 5:00PM "Werewolves Of London (and Elsewhere): The Greatest Werewolf Movies Ever!" I'll be joining Rodney Barnett

Saturday at 10:00AM "Boetticher, Peckinpah & Leone: A New Kind Of Western" along with Ted Haycraft & Roger Romage

When I'm not "Paneling," you'll find me at the MonsterKid Central table, along with some very special guests who make the website and the MonsterKid Fury podcast fun, informative and just plain crazy.

Friday at 8:00PM "You'll Never Get Rid Of Me: The Val Lewton Legacy" I'll be joined by Andrew Jenner.

Saturday at 11:30AM "1975: 50 Years Of Great Films" I'll be joining Ted Haycraft & Jim Adams

Sunday at 11:30AM "1965: 60 Years Of Great Films" along with Rodney Barnett & Ted Haycraft

House Of Frankenstein had its NY Critics & Press preview on 12-1-1944

Premiered 9-16-1963

Both Emma Bell (1986) & Laurie Holden (1969) played sisters on The Walking Dead

Fuyuki Murakami was born on 12-23-1911

Marta Kristen 1945

Charles Beaumont

1929

William Peter Blatty 1928

John Carpenter 1948

The Brainiac was released in America on 4/9/1963

Happy Birthday to Fred Dekker 4/9/1959

No Official Record Exists. Could be 1904, 1906, 1907...

Ted Cassidy 1932

Melissa McBride 1965

Jeffrey Dean

Morgan 1966

Danny Trejo 1944

Michael Biehn 1956

Born On The Same Exact Day!

Gloria Stuart 1910

David Prowse 1935

Harry Dean Stanton 1926

Happy Birthday on July 31st

John Carpenter 1948

Happy Birthday on April 25th

Jeffrey DeMunn 1947

Heather Sossaman 1987

Milicent Patrick 1915

Forrest J Ackerman was born on 11-24-1916