For those who don't recognize the name, Dr. Frederic Wertham and his book Seduction of the Innocent helped to destroy three-fourths of the comic book industry in the 1950s, especially the horror genre books. (You can find a very good concise history of the doc and his work here.) Next year will see the 50th birthday of both Wertham's text and yours truly, so to start the celebrations, this blog is adding a new weekly feature: "Horror Sundays". What better way to honor the Sabbath than with some of the goriest comics covers of all time?

To start, here's a classic injury-to-eye favorite from Mister Mystery #12. Enjoy!

This time we offer a sound clip from a movie that's an overflowing treasure trove of terrible writing and acting, the 1966 anti-classic The Oscar, starring Stephen Boyd and Tony Bennett. It was Tony's cinematic debut and swansong rolled into one, and after you listen to this scene, you'll agree that he should never have been allowed to act at all, let alone a second time. But don't blame him for his horrible performance-- Laurence Olivier couldn't have done anything with the wretched prose provided by Harlan Ellison, one of the worst writers who ever lived. This moving moment comes from the end of the film, where Bennett's character, a flunkie named Hymie Kelly, tells the arrogant and unscrupulous actor Frankie Fane (Boyd) that he won't be his stooge anymore. The lines are pure Ellison, such as "I let you castrate me inch by inch" and "I was just twitchin', just like a spastic", and all of it delivered as only a natural-born non-actor like Tony could. Wonderfully awful! (Note: File size is 500K.)

Since I'm temporarily unable to do any sound files, this time the quiz will be a plot synopsis. While it's a real toughie (I think), I'll try to give you a couple clues broad enough that those in the know can use the Internet Movie Database and still come up with the answer. Here goes:

The owner of a flea-circus learns that a long-lost uncle has left him a fortune. But after he and his family sell their meager belongings and move to the big city, they find that after everything has been paid, all they get are five chairs and a Frank Sinatra record. On playing the record, however, they hear a message from the uncle telling them that he was actually murdered, and the names of his killers (along with $300,000 he managed to squirrel away) are hidden in the legs of one of the chairs. Unfortunately, the chairs have already been sold, so the rest of the movie is the hero's quest to get them back, which takes him to the home of a radio comedian, a mobster's headquarters, and a movie theater playing Zombie in the Attic.

Hints: The star was himself a radio comedian, and this was his one and only solo starring vehicle. The screenplay was co-written by the wife of the director known by all as the master of suspense. If this helps, or you know the movie without these clues, send me an email by late Sunday night and you'll see your name in next week's Movie Quiz list of champions. Good luck.

Proof that Robert Zemeckis's name on a film wasn't always a reason to stay away, I Wanna Hold Your Hand was his first feature (co-written with Bob Gale) and, I think, still his best. (I liked his follow-up, Used Cars, when it came out, but a recent re-watching left me bored.) It's an inspired comedy about a group of kids who try to see The Beatles live on the first Sullivan show, and it evokes the time very nicely, yet never at the expense of the well-developed characters. A lot of the reason the movie still remains fresh and funny is the young cast that included Nancy Allen and Teresa Saldana. While those two went on to have more major parts in later films (especially Allen, in the work of her husband, Brian DePalma), the funniest members of the cast never got the kind of career break-out role they deserved: Bobby Di Cicco as the Jersey greaser who hates the Mop-Tops, Wendy Jo Sperber as a Paul-obsessed little hothead and, best of all, Eddie Deezen as Beatles expert Ringo Klaus.

Apparently, even with three clues, this one was a bit of as toughie, and as usual when that's the case, only the quiz regulars seemed to know it. So a big "Yeah yeah yeah" to this week's winners: Wayne A. Palmer (will he ever lose?), Steven Jay Gellert, Chuck Tomlinson, E. Yarber, Hank Parmer and Kika Warner. Nice work, guys and gal.

(With luck, Everett will return to his regular slot this Saturday.)

(Attorney General John Ashcroft puts up his dukes, the better to belt out one of his God-awful songs.)

Personally, I think this week's sample is great, but even the man responsible for it sounds, at the end, as though he shocked himself with his own vitriol. I'm speaking of Mike Malloy, the left's best hope for a genuine anti-Limbaugh. This sound clip comes from the end of Wednesday's radio show, as he played excerpts from a press statement by John Ashcroft. Malloy started out talking about Ashcroft's personal uber-Christianity (Mike calls him "The Crisco Kid", referring to Ashcroft's known penchant for anointing himself with oil), but you won't believe where he ends up-- and apparently, judging from the stunned laughter at the end, neither did he. Hilarious.

P.S. On this very day, St. John gave a speech in Detroit (part of his "Save the Patroit Act" national tour) only to be shut down by one of yours truly's favorite bunch of hecklers. Read about it here. (And what's the old cliche?--  "Just because you're a LaRouche-oid doesn't mean you're wrong.")

Guess which person in the picture is the Ashcroft fan?

(Possibly the best-ever pic of Ray, by the king of Shut Up, Little Man arteests, M. Flinn.)

It's been a little too quiet around this blog, so it's time for another morsel from the collected rants of the greatest unknown comedy team of all time, Peter Haskett and Raymond Huffman. This bit is one of their most beloved moments, a monogue by Ray concerning soup and killin', in that exact order. This solo of his is a good example of what Seymour Glass of Bananafish Magazine was talking about years ago: "I grew to appreciate the rhythms of Ray, his soliloquies. They take on a musical quality. Soon I would listen to him more than I would my music albums." You'll also notice that Hitchcock had nothing on ol' Ray when it came to being a master of suspense-- listen to the countdown of his menacing arrival into the other room, always accompanied with the threat of brandished soup. An absolute classic. (Note: File size is 500K.)

The long-awaited DVD of Bowling for Columbine is finally out-- it's been bouncing between #3 and #4 on the amazon.com top ten-- and that alone is cause for celebration (now I can finally retire my VCD copy), but last week Michael Moore went to Belfast and delivered the speech of his life. Even though he later mocked the idea of a presidential run on his part, in 50 minutes he said more about what's right and (especially) wrong with his country than all nine of the Dems currently applying for the gig have said in months. The best part is the chapter he reads from his next book, Dude, Where's My Country, where he talks about the Bush Administration's Reign of Fear, and his words and delivery are both funny and fire-breathing.

You can hear or download the speech, Q&A, and press conference at this page, part of A-infos Radio Project's excellent Michael Moore collection (go to search and type in his name for about a dozen other interviews and speeches). Note: The files are quite long, but if you're a fan of Mike's, I think you'll find them worth your time.

(Baghdad and Waco-- both photos taken August 19, 2003.)