Zombies and Ho's

Happy Sunday everybody! Also, Happy Halloween. I know it's Wednesday, but everyone already celebrated this weekend. Plus I don't have a lot to say about the holiday because I don't care about it a whole lot, so trick or treat and what have you.


I did get somewhat into the spirit last night, however. After working a double shift at the PPT (last chance to see Born Yesterday this afternoon!) I went with my friend Jodi to see the original Night of the Living Dead. It was a return trip to The Manor movie theater for me and this was the last of their four-part Vintage Horror Movie series.

I had never seen the horror classic before so I was really excited about it. A nice little surprise was that Russell Streiner, a producer and actor in the film, was at the Manor last night. He was taking pictures with fans and did a Q&A after the movie (we didn't stay, we had to work in the morning). Mr. Streiner has done a lot of work with bringing film production to Pennsylvania, and is chairman of The Pittsburgh Film Office.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed Night of the Living Dead. I was surprised at some of the gore (zombies arguing over eating intestines was a nice surprise) and that the main hero was African-American, which was a huge deal at its time. However, there were a few clear anti-feminist themes in the film. Our main heroine, Barbara, spends the movie in a cationic stage which annoys the other heroes (and, frankly, the audience). But it was a different time then, so I suppose I'll overlook it.

In other news, I know I haven't blogged about books in a while, but I just finished a good one. It's Pimp, the autobiography of reformed pimp/author Iceberg Slim (real name Robert Beck). Sounds like an odd choice, probably. I decided to read it after a recurring joke at the PPT had people calling me Iceberg Slim. Since Slim was a rough, famous, black pimp and I am none of those things, the nickname is a bit ironic. But the book intrigued me.

Published in 1969, Pimp recounts Slims life up to the age of 43, when he stopped pimping. He talks about the love for his mother, his first experience pimping, multiple trips to jails and prisons, doing hard drugs, and building a "family" of whores. The slang is a bit hard to get into, but eventually I got used to it all. Slim has quite the way with words, making phrases that can be incredibly graphic while also oddly poetic. Here's an excerpt: "He looked at me and made that clacking sound against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. You know, that mischievous, weirdly joyful sound that a young kid makes the instant before he rams a hat pin into your ear drum" -Iceberg Slim, Pimp.


The term "pimpin ain't easy" proves very true here: Slim had a rough life during the pimp game, and in the end of the book he admits he'd have died much earlier if he had kept it up (Slim died in 1992). Here are one of the final thoughts he has about the subject:

"I had spent more than half a lifetime in a worthless, dangerous profession. If I had stayed in school, in eight years of study I could have been an M.D. or lawyer. Now here I was, slick but not smart, in a cell. I was past forty with counterfeit glory in my past, and no marketable training, no future. I had been a bigger sucker than a square mark. All he loses is scratch. I had joined a club that suckered me behind bars five times." -Iceberg Slim, Pimp.

So that's what I've been up to, friends. Hope everyone has a lovely Halloween week. I'll probably have nightmares about undead prostitutes, but then that's normal isn't it?