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    Me & My Monsters

    There were two kinds of kids growing up: kids who were into Monsters and kids who weren’t. Guess which one I was?

    Those of us who liked Monsters were obsessed with them. There was no other way to be. You either thought Monsters were the coolest thing in creation, or you thought they were the dumbest thing in the universe, besides school. And us Monster obsessed were not the “cool” kids. We were the artists: the outliers, the misfits. And we were almost exclusively boys. Girls were still the enemy at that age, and being a Monster fan not only made you the enemy, it made you exceptionally weird. 

    When I was eight years old, one Saturday morning in the heat of summer, I saw my first cover of the fan mag Famous Monsters of Filmland in the local variety store. It’s my very first indelible image of Monsters, and it forever burned itself deep into me. I vividly remember being frozen in my little tracks at the visual onslaught of that cover. And I remember positively quaking in my little sneakers at what could be inside. 

    Even today, when I look at images of those covers (most of the best painted by Basil Gogos) I get a Metaphysical Boner. A Metaphysical Boner is when everything in your being, except your loins, gets turned on. It’s an engagement of body, mind, heart, and soul, minus sexual stimulation. Why limit the magical experience of an erection just to sexual experiences? If everything else but your groin is firing at 1000 horsepower, it still counts.

    It was also my first recollection of the overwhelming sensation of “Absolutely Having To Have It”. I  was willing to steal that magazine if I had to; even though dad had admonished such behavior; even though dad himself was with me at the time, and I would somehow have to sneak it by him if he said “No”. The desire to have that magazine was so compelling that I was willing to risk whatever consequences befell me if I got bagged ripping it off. Luckily, dad said “Yes”, and the rag was Mine. Mine. All Mine.

    I devoured that magazine like a rabid wolverine on steroids. That magazine shaped me. Formed me. Molded me. And it scared the crap out of me and gave me nightmares. 

    Complicated, yes. How can something so enthrall you, so totally capture you, and still scare the crap out of you, even give you bad dreams? I don’t know. But you know what? It sure sounds a lot like what Romantic Love does to most of us. 

    Monsters were my fist love affair. They moved me in almost every way that love with a girl would do for me nine years later.

    I’ve got lots more to write about regarding Monsters. Stay tuned.


    © 2018 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing, All rights reserved.

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