Top Ten Movie Vampires

I admit, I am a sucker for vampires…although after the whole Twilight craze, I usually have to clarify that I am a pre-Twilight sucker for vampires. It seems as though each generation has to modify the vampire genre just enough to make it different. Whether Twilight will become the new modern vampire still is yet to be seen.

Here is my countdown for the top 10 vampire movies (mainly based on the quality of the vampire):

10. Monster Squad – I still feel bad for Frankenstein’s monster in this one.

9. Buffy the Vampire Slayer – best campy death scene ever

8. Nosferatu – ultimate classic that started it all

7. Interview with a Vampire – the costumes…the hair…

6. Lost Boys – the Coreys…Alex Winter…all around great cast

5. Dracula, Dead and Loving It – who can resist a great spoof

4. Let Me In – very heartwarming in a spooky way

3. Dracula 2000 – two words…Gerard Butler

2. Waxwork – fantastic movie

1. Bram Stoker’s Dracula – still a classic…Gary Oldman

 

 

 

 

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Finish the Story – October #1

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The Smallest Acorn

Alice loved collecting acorns and chestnuts with her grandfather. They would spend hour after hour walking through the woods beyond their old log cabin collecting and talking about this, that, and nothing in particular. Even though she was only twelve years old, Alice understood time with her grandparents was getting short. She overheard her mother crying one night and telling her father that it had come back. Alice didn’t know what it was that came back, but she was happy when her mother asked if she wanted to visit her grandparents.

On this particular trip through the woods, her grandfather led her down a new trail rather than their usual one that went down by the lake. It didn’t take her long to figure out why. The entire trail was lined with oak trees as tall and as thick as she had ever seen.

“These trees been here as long as I have,” her grandfather said, sitting on a fallen log to catch his breath.

“They’re wonderful,” Alice said, looking at all the colors that blanketed the clear, blue sky.

Alice started looking around along the ground for more acorns while her grandfather began telling her a story about these woods. She was really only half listening, but when the words magic, healing, and acorn reached her ears, she stopped and started listening. However, it didn’t take her very long to become distracted by the smallest acorn she had ever seen.

This acorn was perfect in every way, except it was only a third the size of a normal acorn. When she picked it up, it felt electric. As if some energy flowed out of the acorn and up her arm. It tickled and made her giggle.

“Whatcha giggling about,” her grandfather asked.

“This little acorn,” she said, holding it up so he could see it.

Her grandfather began to shake with joy. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the …

To be continued


I am tagging The Bag Lady to provide the next part.

To participate, read the story as you receive it, then create the next part, and pass the story onto someone else until the story is finished. Please either pingback or post a link to your contribution in the comments of the original post.

Why?

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Why is one of the most charged and potentially dangerous questions one could ever ask. Yet, we just can’t stop asking it. Who would have ever guessed that three simple letters held so much power?

Think back to a time when you were in school. You learned about specific dates, places, and people involved, and everything was fine…just fine. Then came the three most evil letters ever created w-h-y. Why did they fight for independence…why did the Crusades take place…why were people migrating…why…why…why.

Is there ever really a right answer?

According to some there are, and this is precisely why I am not a teacher, politician, or anything else where one may ask me why. This is also why I was never an English major, and why I transferred out of my Philosophy major.

It’s not that I don’t have an opinion…it’s that I value the plethora of responses that could stem from simply asking why.

What frustrates me, is that few in those fields have the same value.

For example…

My son’s English teacher asked one question (on a 40 point essay test): What role does gender play in the racism experienced by the author (in the book Coming of Age in Mississippi)?

Wow…um, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it?

In the book (why any 14-year-old should read this book is beyond me), the author relates her story of growing up poor in rural Mississippi. Her mother worked a variety of jobs after her parents divorced and as the author grew up and went to college, she answered the call for students to take up the Civil Rights Movement. She was involved in several protests, traveled to Washington, and eventually moved to New York and married.

That section of his term is over (thank goodness), but now we are on to poetry (good grief).

In an excellent poem that relates the humor of life and death, the teacher asked, “Why did the author use that word instead of another one?”

WTF? Where does she come up with these questions! Is there really a right answer aside from asking the long dead author to rise from the grave to explain it?

Why is such a loaded question because, for so many people, it relies on the assumption that there is, in fact, a correct answer. In school that means the teacher’s answer, in the workplace it’s the boss’ answer, and in the political arena it’s the majority ruling political party’s answer.

Rather than asking why…why don’t we start asking how?

How is such a wonderful word and full of possibility. How can we make the world a better place? How can we bring peace back to the US? How can we set things right?

Perhaps it is time for a change? How does that sound?

 


Yes, this post is a bit of a rant because my B-student is now failing English because of a dipshit teacher. I tried (I really did) to give her the benefit of the doubt when she gave him a D on the TKAM test because he didn’t think Jem was the mockingbird or that the mockingbird represented happyiness (that’s the freaking bluebird!), and I tried when she assigned the autobiography, and when she assigned a 5th grade book as an alternative, and I tried when she marked him off for using too many commas and references to the book, and I tried when we had parent-teacher conferences where she talked so much that no one could say a word, and I tried when she said they were only reading excerpts from The Odessy because it is too difficult, but I draw the line when he is told his interpretation of a poem was wrong, and when he is told he uses too many commas (he should use short sentences), and when he is told his viewpoint of the alternative book was wrong, and when he is marked wrong because he said race and gender do not influence each other, and when he turns in assignments but she doesn’t check her drop box until after the due date, and more importantly, when he is now failing her class.

 

Put Up A Parking Lot

The city had long forgotten its past horrors that it inflicted on its own people. What started out as a simple disagreement in how things should be done ended up years of bloodshed. With each generation that had been lost to the conflict, it took two more to erode old memories. All the city had wanted was to remove the top soil, dead trees, and trash from an old, unused city park so that a new parking lot could be built for the local residents. What they uncovered though were long unforgotten memories that simmered just below the surface for generations. Memories that changed people to the core. Memories that will soon be reality once again.


This short was inspired by FOWC with Fandango – parking