Horror monsters whose asses I could kick
And the ones that would kick my ass
A few weeks ago, someone on Twitter made an infographic that ranked food mascots on whether they could kick his ass. The post went viral, and as happens when things go viral, it cracked open our pulsating, collective desire to Join The Conversation™. Suddenly, everyone had an opinion about, say, Mr. Peanut’s combat skills and whether or not the M&Ms were fair fighters. It made me remember that our world is dumb and best left to the animals.
But because my masculinity is fragile, I couldn’t stop thinking about beating things up. That fucking meme had gotten to me despite all of my efforts to push it down with the rest of my feelings. And since we’re wading into spooky season, and my head is filled with monsters anyway, I began thinking of famous horror movie spookies and whether or not I (35 years old, 5-foot 11-inches, 210 lbs [MOSTLY MUSCLE!!!], non-smoker, ~6 mph running pace, “perfect blood pressure” [according to my doctor]) could beat them up.
So, let’s get to it. Here are the monsters ranked by whether or not they could kick my ass. Come at me, brorrors.
Chucky: I would kick the shit out of Chucky. Doesn’t matter if he’s got the soul of a killer—just dropkick that motherfucker into a woodchipper. Yeah, I’m one of those people who talks a big game about beating up living dolls, sue me.
Children of the corn: I know it’s wrong to beat up children, but it’s also probably really easy. Even if they have, like, a scythe or a corn shovel (that’s a farming tool, right?), a 10-12 year old hasn’t developed the motor dexterity to really use it well. Just dodge the first swing and they’ll fall down and then it’s corn-on-the-clobberin’ time for them.
A skeleton: I probably couldn’t beat up any of the skeletons from Jason and the Argonauts because they had swords, but in the year 2019 skeletons are way less likely to have swords.
A mummy: Just a skeleton with clothes. No big whoop.
A critter, a gremlin and/or a ghoulie: Okay, now things are getting interesting. I’m certain I’d sustain a few bites, scratches and toilet seat whammies (what I assume is a common injury whilst fighting ghoulies) but ultimately I’m just bigger. There’s a squeam factor that comes with smooshing something—a feeling similar to stomping a rat—but best to tackle your critter problem before they multiply. Nip that shit in the bud and stomp them dead.
Frankenstein’s monster: This guy has the size and the strength to take me, but I’d just remind him that his mortality is a product of mankind’s hubris, and that his agency is not his, but that of a wack-job who tried to play God. Then, when the monster is ruminating on the futility of life, I’d set him on fire or something.
Michael Myers: This is about where the fight gets even. Michael’s powers and strength differ from film to film—sometimes he’s just a normal guy, and sometimes he’s an invincible bogeyman. But I have a feeling that beneath that William Shatner mask, there’s neurological vulnerability. Just, like, talk about his sister or something. Actually, any sort of cyberbully tactics would probably work. Perhaps I couldn’t win a physical fight with Michael Myers, but I would win in an online battle with him.
Freddie Krueger: Honestly, this could go either way. Sure, if I have a dream where I’m in Freddie’s boiler room—as is the common dream among Elm Street kids—then obviously he’s got the upper hand. However, I still often dream about being a really great snowboarder—a dream that has carried over from 8th grade—and I think I could win a battle against Freddie on the slopes. I hope in my dreams I’d also have the wherewithal to throw in some Freddie-style one-liners. “How’s this for shredding, bitch!” I’d say, literally slicing him with my board.
Deadite: Killing deadites is just a matter of perseverance. Bodily dismemberment gets really tiring.
CHUDs: I probably wouldn’t be able to beat up a CHUD. Sadly, with the way the environment is going and all—and CHUDs being the product of environmental waste—we’re probably going to see a lot more CHUDs in the coming years. Green New Deal now, less CHUDs later.
Pinhead/Candyman/Dracula: I stand no chance when faced with the horniest monsters. Not trying to kink shame, but nothing makes me more uncomfortable than listening to strangers talk about the eternal pleasure they could give me. [When Harry Met Sally voice]: I’ll NOT have what they’re having.
Jason: Jason is every libertarian, pro-Trump, gun-nut bro on the internet: immovable and unforgiving and dumb. When you’re having a good time (online or in a cabin), he’ll show up out of nowhere and chop you down. Although he hates everything, he hates strong-willed women especially. He only has a limited amount of weapons—all of which are predictable—but he’ll keep using them over and over until his victim is pulverized. Some may argue that there’s an intellectual nihilism that motivates his actions—a warped sort of “logic”—but we all know he’s just sad.
Pumpkinhead: Fuck no I’m not going to win against a witch-summoned invincible monster whose only directive is revenge. I’m not even going to try. At least Pumpkinheads are easy to avoid—all you need to do is steer clear of killing children whose parents are the type to enlist the help of a witch. However, this preventative measure could get tricky if it’s a child of the corn (see above).
Godzilla: Um, yeah, okay lemme just do battle with “king of monsters.” Sounds easy, right? In case my super sarcastic tone isn’t apparent, I’m being sarcastic!! The only way to beat Godzilla is to be in Blue Öyster Cult and play the song “Godzilla”—a song so rocking that the giant lizard has no other recourse but admit that he can’t exist in a world that produces such art, and return to the sea. Unfortunately, I’m not in BÖC, so I stand no chance.
THE ONLY CONCERT CALENDAR THAT MATTERS™
Tyler, the Creator
Wednesday, Oct. 16
OPTION 1: The Strawberry Moons, The Surrealistics, Aviator Stash, Oak Palace @ Music Box. San Diego’s Strawberry Moons make psychedelic, ‘60s-inspired rock that’s simultaneously playful and haunting. Think Beatles meets Jefferson Airplane. Plus, their new album just came out and it’s fantastic, so I’m sure that this show will be like a victory lap for them.
OPTION 2: The Who, Liam Gallagher @ Viejas Arena. You know that part at minute 7:45 of The Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again” when Roger Daltry does the high-pitched scream? There’s no greater moment in rock history than that, and it’s the same sound that goes through my head whenever I bite into the perfect burrito.
Thursday, Oct. 17
OPTION 1: Birdy Bardot, Le Chateau, Blood Ponies @ The Casbah. I love me a good, diverse lineup, and this one is A+. Although these three bands differ in sound, all of their music has the power to possess you. It’ll be a haunting night, for sure—no soul will leave unscathed.
OPTION 2: Jonas Brothers @ Pechanga Arena. Eh, it was either recommending Jonas Brothers or Beach Boys for your second option tonight, and I really wouldn’t feel good about telling you to see the MAGA-hatted Mike Love version of the Beach Boys. More like the Blech Boys, amirite?
Friday, Oct. 18
OPTION 1: Club Hemlock @ The Merrow. San Diego’s premier deathrock/goth DJ night Hemlock is going down like... er the devil down to Georgia? I don’t know. Just go. Two legendary goth bands will also be playing: Screaming Dead and Only Theatre of Pain (which features original members of Christian Death). It’s going to be awesome and crusty. Plus, there’s always cool, limited edition merch for first to arrive.
OPTION 2: Chelsea Wolfe, Ioanna Gika @ The Observatory. Goths rule San Diego tonight! Chelsea Wolfe is the queen of darkness and brooding, and her new album The Birth of Violence quickly became one of my favorites of 2019.
OPTION 3: Emo Nite @ The Casbah. One day I’m going to go to one of these, take over the DJ laptop, turn off The Killers, and throw on some Mineral. With tears in my eyes, I’ll yell “NOW THIS IS WHAT I CALL EMO!”
DON’T GO: Chris Brown @ Viejas Arena. WTF, SDSU. Why are you booking this trash? Shame on you.
Saturday, Oct. 19
OPTION 1: Tyler, the Creator, Blood Orange, GoldLink @ Pechanga Arena. It took me a long time to come around to Tyler, the Creator, because when Odd Future broke out, I had no patience for their homophobia, misogyny and provocative edginess. But it’s been really cool to see how Tyler, the Creator has grown and matured creatively, and 2019’s IGOR is so fucking good—by far my favorite hip hop album this year.
OPTION 2: Lucero, Vadoliers @ Music Box. There should be a glass box in every house containing a Lucero album that says “Break glass if feeling too happy.” I love Lucero—it’s the best sad music.
OPTION 3: Crunk Witch @ The Bancroft. Crunk Witch is mix of electroclash and emo (or a techno version of My Chemical Romance?). It’s incredibly annoying, but I’m also old now and this thing seems like the kind of thing I don’t like solely because I’m old. I like their name though.
Sunday, Oct. 20
OPTION 1: GRLwood, Le Ra, Camden Aguilera @ Soda Bar. Self-described as “gender-fuck feminists screaming at you,” GRLwood is a force to be reckoned with. Part punk, part post-punk, part hardcore, and a little bit of Fugazi groovieness—this two-piece covers a lot of ground. And it’s all good.
OPTION 2: Live, Bush @ Pechanga Resort (Temecula). Pretty sure I would travel to Temecula to watch Bush play “Glycerine.” I would also travel that far to hear Live sing “her placenta falls to the floor.”
Monday, Oct. 21
OPTION 1: Other Ways, Blush, Territory @ Soda Bar. Hell yes. Other Ways is heavy and thick like Metz or Bleach-era Nirvana. Here’s your aspirin show of the week.
OPTION 2: Mushroomhead, Unsaid Fate @ Brick By Brick. Go see a nü metal band this week. Why the fuck not? They wear masks!
Tuesday, Oct. 22
OPTION 1: Mephiskaphelis, Beta 7 @ The Casbah. Searching“goth ska” does not yield a lot of promising results—for both music and humanity. While Mephiskaphelis are not goth, the ‘90s stalwarts (skalwarts?) are the only ska band I can think of that can do dark ska well.
OPTION 2: Cavetown, Field Medic, Breakup Shoes @ Music Box. Cavetown is a Youtube sensation and he was born in 1998—two very good reasons for why I should dislike him. But he writes vulnerable songs, and I can’t stay mad at anyone who makes the internet a better, more emotionally intelligent place.
Got a tip or wanna say hi? Email me at ryancraigbradford@gmail.com, or follow me on Twitter @theryanbradford
