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Came July, Kaz suggested throwing a birthday party
for the both of us, since our birthdates fell inside the same target
period and were, in fact, mirror-reversals of each other (the 13th
and the 31st) — a portent! He also wanted to host a soiree
wherein his Spongebob compatriots, many cartoonists and illustrators
of repute (ill or otherwise) could come and get sloppy drunk and
vent about Nick management. You know — harmless fun. In addition,
he could import his then-fiancee Linda Marotta to
the Left-Hand Coast for a sort of wedding Coming Attractions; they
were due to be married
on Hallowe'en.
Linda Marotta, a.k.a. Ms. Kaz
(You may also know Linda from her book reviews in
Fangoria, and if you don't, you should.)
Over 150 people showed up for the Oct. 20th soiree, including Andrew
Overtoom, with his film crew for the My Life With Morrissey independent
film project, accompanied by Trisha Noble and lead actress Jackie
Buscarino (and yes, they actually filmed a DJS cameo during the party).
See: http://mylifewithmorrissey.com/
Trisha Noble with DJS, and
Jackie Buscarino with DJS clone
The October 20th 'do was also our "farewell to Kaz" blowout.
During September, the SpongeBob gig began to wind down, with all
scripts delivered and Nickelodeon commencing wave after wave of layoffs
in the midst of a contretemps over minimums and legal rights with
the Writer's Guild of America. On September 11th, we watched the
Twin Towers fall down and go boom in the early morning hours … on
TV. The ensuing four weeks remain kind of a blur. But Kaz had become
such an everyday fixture around here that as jolly as the party was,
it held the distinct overtones of an all-around wake — mostly
after-the-fact.
PARTY LIKE IT'S 9/11!
The gloomy aftermath of Kaz's departure homeaways lasted about six
days, until Darren McKeeman of Gothic.net (host of this little site
you're looking at right now) called up and said, "I'm coming
down to LA. Why don't we throw a party for the Gothic.net intimates
in that neck of the woods? I'll pay for the booze."
"When?" said DJS.
"Why, Pearl Harbor Day, of course."
   
The Many Faces of Darren McKeeman
Phase Two Begins
7 December 2001
You should have seen the beer. Cases upon cases of Japanese beer,
overloading two shopping carts, so much beer that, when stacked up,
it qualified as construction material. Plus those tanker-sized cans
of Sapporo. Bought on the basis of consumption velocity estimates
for Friends of Gothic.net. Hoo boy, did we overshoot. That fucking
beer lasted nearly a year.
Rice crackers, about a quarter-ton. Sushi, five budget-busting platters-worth.
And liquor like you wouldn't believe, in the big bottles. Darren
came up with the idea of distributing disposable cameras among the
guests, since we did not designate an official photographer. That
plan worked out like ass (as they say on the East Coast), reaping
up a lot of snapshots of people's feet and party-bestrewn tables
of crap. Hence, the coverage is not what we would have preferred,
and explains why most of the photos from the Pearl Harbor Day event
just plain suck.
(Darren says, "I honestly don't remember very much about this
one, because I was a nervous host and drank too much.")
Perhaps it was the sinkfull of beer
that magnetized the legendary Bernie Wrightson to the cause. As
you can tell, Bernie is notably camera-shy. When he's not creating
his unique brand of artwork, he's doing stuff like this.
Bernie Has One to Grind
Bernie loves squeezing Liz Adamson
A word about Lucifer Fulci of Penis
Flytrap: He is an awesome pitbull of a man and will usually
show up with his whole band in tow, including the semi-nude dancing
zombie chicks. (I first met Lucifer Dave when he was
part-timing at a Petco store, and we've been running into each
other all other Hollywood since then. The coolest time was when
he shrieked to the curb out of nowhere to offer to help me bludgeon
some street asshole who was lipping off to me.) Because he cares,
and he makes an effort to show up out of respect, Dave and his
lovely wife Cassandra are always welcome at any party
I host here. Ditto the nude zombie chicks.
Penis Flytrap: Lucifer Fulci, Dinah
Cancer, Hal Satan, Elvorian Von Spivey.
Lucifer Dave Prepares to Mate
Tomi the Xenophobe battles the pinball machine.
Evil Wilhelm and porcelain beauty Tara
Greer made an ultra-rare public appearance. Evil was once
in a band called Radio Werewolf, and among his
current gigs is the title Serial Killer Consultant to the Stars,
having worked in an advisory capacity on such flicks as Natural
Born Killers and Silence of the Lambs. You
know that whole "it puts the lotion on its skin" thing? That's
Evil.
Evil in his element, with son Vincent Malouf, and Tara
Actual photographic proof that Evil did manifest on December
7th.
I'd first met Gothic.net contributor Maria
Alexander nearly a year prior, and she's been to nearly every
event since, and she's nowhere close to running out of fabulous
outfits.
Maria is one of those people who can wear blue.
(Photo
by Bryan Crump, ©2002. Courtesy of Maria Alexander.)
Speaking of wardrobe, Arbiters of Cool Amelia
G. and Forrest Black (then of Blue Blood notoriety)
also graced the joint with their stylin' ways. Hell, they live
right down at the bottom of my hill, and I frequently encounter
them in the Mayfair Market … usually when I'm dressed down for,
you know, street cred.
 
Amelia G. & Forrest Black
Keith Rainville, the editor/publisher
of From Parts Unknown Magazine (the world's foremost
masked wrestling publication), threatened to eat my rats.
Not On the Menu
Tom Gilliland, master designer
and kit-painter extraordinaire, currently a mainspring of Sideshow
Toys, made an appearance along with his ravishing (and extremely
pregnant) wife Juanita – in fact, I think this was the last
social event they attended before Juanita actually gave birth. Make
of that what you probably will, anyway.
Chow Down: (L-R) Chopper Lang, Dave
Parker, the back of Juanita's head, Lucifer Dave,
Tom Gilliland.
A pensive black-and-white study of DJS and Tom Gilliland
pondering the mysteries of the universe.
Too Many Daves
by Dr. Seuss
Did I ever tell you that Mrs. McCave
Had twenty-three sons, and she named them all Dave?
Well, she did. And that wasn't a smart thing to do.
You see, when she wants one, and calls out "Yoo-Hoo!
Come into the house, Dave!" she doesn't get one.
All twenty-three Daves of hers come on the run!
This makes things quite difficult at the McCaves'
As you can imagine, with so many Daves.
And often she wishes that, when they were born,
She had named one of them Bodkin Van Horn.
And one of them Hoos-Foos. And one of them Snimm.
And one of them Hot-Shot. And one Sunny Jim.
Another one Putt-Putt. Another one Moon Face.
Another one Marvin O'Gravel Balloon Face.
And one of them Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate...
But she didn't do it. And now it's too late.
Somehow Dave Parker (director
of The Dead Hate the Living) found out about the
party and showed up, and he's been coming back regularly ever since. We
like to bounce him off women with large breasts, kind of like pinball,
and he's too shy to complain, or maybe he really, y'know, likes it.
Dave P. wonders when Security is going to show up to roust
him.
The fabulous Woody Welch also trundled
up the hill. Woody is one of those "have canvas, will travel" kind
of painters who shame the effete. He is speedy, efficient, obsessed.
The Fabulous Woody Welch (on the right).
Now check out the painting he did of the Creature with Bettie
Page:
The Gill Man gets all the best chicks.
Geoff Cooper was in town for
a bookstore signing, and Kelly Laymon was nice enough to
pour his ass into a car and drive him over, in the company of Jenny
Hong and Eddie McMullen, Jr., better known to the
internet as "Feo Amante."
Eddie McMullen, Jr. Muy feo.
Jenny, Geoff, Kelly and some Gothic Guy who
paid for the whole shindig
(To the "authors" who were
too cool to visit, even though they were invited, we reserve a
great big Well, Fuck All Y'all.)
The Kerry, The DJS, & The Maria
cheerfully say, "Well, fuck ALL y'all!"
The cold, unforgiving light of dawn sprays mercilessly over the
liquor table. Note that there's nobody in the photo. In order to
more fully represent the Axis powers, Darren also procured a German
chocolate cake that nobody touched.
The Table, Depleted. Note untouched cake. Why? Because it was
storebought, and not a product of the Divine Miss
K. Her cakes are
always devoured in a mad pirahna-like feeding frenzy (interpret
that as
sexually as you probably will, anyway).
STILL MORE PARTY MADNESS
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