The modern day Memorial Day was first observed as Decoration Day, a day to honor and put flowers on the graves of Union soldiers who perished during the Civil War..
I am oppressed with a sense of the impropriety of uttering works on this occasion. If silence is ever golden, it must be here beside the graves of fifteen thousand men, whose lives were more significant than speech, and whose death was a poem, the music of which can never be sung. With words we make promises, plight faith, praise virtue. Promises may not be kept; plighted faith may be broken; and vaunted virtue be only the cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they spoke; but we do know they summed up and perfected, by one supreme act, the highest virtues of men and citizens. For love of country they accepted death, and thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their patriotism and their virtue. For the noblest man that lives, there still remains a conflict. He must still withstand the assaults of time and fortune, must still be assailed with temptations, before which lofty natures have fallen; but with these the conflict ended, the victory was won, when death stamped on them the great seal of heroic character, and closed a record which years can never blot.
By the early 1900s, Memorial Day became a more popular title for the day.. Eventually several other war dead were included with the decoration and memorials, well beyond the war dead from the Civil War..
It may be the unofficial start of summer.. but give pause for honor and respect to those who fell in battle and perished in war for the United States..
In the 1998 ‘The X Files: Fight The Future‘, a deadly HANTAVIRUS outbreak is used as a cover to hide the existence of extraterrestrial organisms and evidence of alien colonization…
There’s a lot of these posts regarding the hantavirus as this situation develops now, with people around the world becoming nervous because of comparisons to the beginning of COVID-19. Endless stories are circulating about more than 40 people being released from the cruise ship plagued with the deadly Andes version of the hantavirus, and anxiety online is ramping big time (for clicks many times of course)…
Let’s first say this… the X-Files hantavirus connection is weird. …the Cigarette Smoking Man reveals that a Texas hantavirus outbreak was supposedly a cover for human alien hybrid programs designed to survive an impending colonization event. A plague to end all plagues… a reset of society..
There is little doubt that scenes like this would go viral again..
But let’s think back for a moment. Hantavirus was already in the news back in 1998 because deaths connected to the virus were occurring that year as well. For example, the front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer on April 12th, 1998 discussed Pennsylvania’s first hantavirus death that year.
It was a fearful time as scientists were still trying to understand the disease, and coupled with the popularity of The Stand, viruses were heavily on people’s minds.
For those who may not have been around back then, or are too young to remember, hantavirus is not something new on this planet. Back in the 1990s it was widely discussed and deeply feared. This was before social media and before the internet connected everyone instantly the way it does now, but people were absolutely talking about it.
As a matter of fact, by May 29th, 1994, scientists working with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention were already trying to unlock the secrets of the disease after outbreaks killed dozens of people, including victims in Nevada.
Over the years there have been additional scattered cases and isolated fears tied to hantavirus outbreaks, but this newest “plague ship” situation feels more unsettling to many people because it involves the Andes strain… and because the world itself is weary from pandemics.
That’s probably the real story here.
People are exhausted, hyperaware, and traumatized by what happened during COVID.
So now when a cruise ship quarantine appears in headlines alongside words like “deadly virus,” “human transmission,” and “Andes strain,” social media instantly transforms into a mixture of fear, nostalgia, conspiracy theories, old X-Files clips, and memories of a very different era when mysterious viruses already felt terrifying enough.
Yes, it’s Friday the 13th. But it’s something else you might have missed. You might have forgotten it, but there’s something else.
March 13th, 2020. Another Friday the 13th in history.
Donald Trump was still president back then, just like he is now. It’s weird, right? But he, and many other world leaders, also shut down the planet. The COVID lockdowns began on this date six years back.
Listen, nobody wants to talk about it. We moved on since then, but we also haven’t. We have gotten ourselves mired endlessly in debate about politics and war, and there’s been conflict and hatred and chaos and disagreement. We moved on since then and we were told to trust the science back then, to the point now where we doubt everything.
But during those fateful first days, things were really weird, weren’t they? Remember. Unless maybe only remember for a minute and then move on, right? But they were weird. I distinctly remember my son was only nine, in fourth grade. School got closed for that two week period of time and all of us knew in the back of our heads this will not end this year. And it didn’t. Along with the not ending, it just kept getting worse.
We’re not going to go back and revisit history, but we’re going to go back for a moment just to put things in perspective. The perspective of time.
Think about this, kids who graduated during COVID most likely have now been graduated for about a year or so from college. That’s how fast time has gone. Kids who were freshmen during COVID are in their first or second year of college now, or their first or second year of whatever lifestyle and future they chose or ended up with.
Many people who were sick during COVID in those early days in nursing homes and care centers died alone. Families have had to grapple with that since.
Yes, the media promoted dancing nurses, whatever that was, and Italian people singing songs on their porches and balconies in Italy.
They didn’t really show the images of family members gathered outside a window in the cold watching mom or dad die in a hospital bed inside alone without the grasp of human connection at the very end. We also perhaps have moved on because we just don’t want to talk about that anymore.
But I’m bringing it up to get it back into your brain, just to consider where we were and what we were and how we were.
My son being nine, I remember filling a bathtub for him and I had a mini panic attack about the idea that life will never return back to normal ever again. That what we were confined with in our homes would be forever. Or that we would all die like in Stephen King’s The Stand.
Well, we didn’t all die. But many of us did lose people. My mom did. Maybe yours did too. Eventually, from the stress of all of it, my father passed away not long after my mom.
And when my mom was passing away in a nursing home, we all had COVID in November of 2021.
That’s my personal tale, but that’s not something I’m going to dwell on because you have your personal tales as well.
There are some good memories too. Listen, for some people who don’t like going out in public, maybe lockdowns weren’t all that bad in a sort of funny way.
I remember one of my dreams to this day. It was in the midst of COVID. I think I even wrote about it back then here somewhere.
I dreamed I was looking out my back window of the home and I was watching myself and my son dig a hole that, for some reason in my dream, I remembered being for my father.
That stood out to me. A lot of things stand out to me.
I remember all of us as a society becoming very overworked because we didn’t know when to shut the computer down or turn things off.
But it’s all over now, right? It’s all done. It changed us, but it’s all done. I think it changed us in ways we don’t even realize. Yes, the obvious stuff is there. It created mental health and physical health ailments. It made schooling be a bit dicey. It made the workplace be a bit strange. It changed ways of life for good to the point where there are very few diners open at 2:00 in the morning to get an apple pie and a coffee like in a good 1980s movie. Most of the time things are closing up at 8:00 or 9:00 at night. So we’ve been changed in little ways and big ways too.
Six years is a long time.
But yet, in some weird way, it felt like timelines got altered and it all just went by in the blink of an eye.
One of the better movies this year in the horror world has been Weapons. We’ve talked about it a number of times and there has been some debate on whether it lived up to the hype or if expectations were just too high to begin with. But all that aside, the opening sequence of Weapons sticks in your head. Kids running through neighborhood streets, the suburban landscape turning ominous, the way the tension creeps up before you realize why you’re uncomfortable.
As a matter of fact, I was at a football game last week — one of the final ones of the season — and some of the students in front of me were laughing about how the players looked like the kids from Weapons and how it was the greatest movie they’ve ever seen. They’re young. They still have the entire library of 70s and 80s horror history to experience. So we forgive them for the cardinal sin for now.
But the movie was pretty good, and that opening scene was genuinely memorable. And one of the strongest reasons why the opening hits so hard is the song choice. The George Harrison track that plays over the scene isn’t just background noise — it sets the emotional temperature. It elevates it. It whispers something the dialogue doesn’t say.
And here’s the thing: there’s a lot going on behind that George Harrison song that most people don’t know.
Beware of Darkness – What the Song Is Actually Saying
George Harrison’s “Beware of Darkness” isn’t literally about “evil” or some boogeyman in the woods. He was drawing from Hindu and Eastern spirituality, particularly the concept of Māyā — the illusion of the material world that distracts the soul.
When Harrison sings:
“Beware of the Maya”
He doesn’t mean a person. He means the force that tricks you into forgetting who you really are.
The song is layered with meaning:
Beware of the world’s negativity. People will try to use you. Leaders will mislead. Culture will exhaust you.
Beware of your own sadness. Not in the sense of denying it — but in not letting it swallow you whole.
“It can hit you, it can hurt you Make you sore and what is more That is not what you are here for.”
You are not meant to live permanently in despair.
Beware of forgetting the spirit. Māyā — illusion — convinces us that status, approval, and fear are reality. Harrison’s message is simply:
Don’t lose your inner light. Don’t let the world make you forget yourself.
Movies know how to use music when they’re paying attention. Weapons did.
That song wasn’t just a soundtrack choice — it was the thesis. A warning delivered before the audience knows what’s about to happen.
And now, as we move deeper into the darker stretch of the year — colder mornings, longer nights, that creeping seasonal weight that settles in the chest — maybe the timing is fitting.
Maybe it’s a reminder:
Beware of the darkness. Beware of the sadness. Beware of the soft-shoe shufflers. And yes — beware of Māyā.
Because sometimes horror isn’t on the screen. Sometimes it’s just life trying to make you forget who you are.
If you’d like, I can also: ✅ Add an image header ✅ Create a social caption ✅ Generate a tagline/teaser for Facebook or Threads
Imagine one day you go to the mailbox and there’s an envelope in there with no return address. Just your name. No explanation. Inside is an old VHS tape. No label. No handwriting. Nothing. Just a blank tape. So you dig out that old VCR from the closet or the basement, because of course you kept it, right? You pop the tape in, press play, and what comes on the screen is a dimly lit room with a group of people sitting around a table. Regular people. Nobody looks dramatic or haunted. They’re just… there. Talking to someone who isn’t visible. And then the table begins to move.
That idea sticks with me. Because the thing we’re talking about here is the Philip Experiment, and most of us only ever see fragments of it. Little clips that show up on YouTube or TikTok every so often. Grainy, eerie, just long enough to make you wonder if you’re seeing something you’re not supposed to see. The full uncut video isn’t floating around. It’s not archived publicly. Parts of it exist — but never the whole. Which adds to the legend, if you ask me.
Back in the early 1970s in Toronto, a group of people got together to see if they could create a ghost purely through imagination. They didn’t believe Philip was real historically. He wasn’t. They made him up. They gave him a life story, motivations, a tragic arc. They shaped him the way writers shape a character — except instead of writing a book, they sat around a table and tried to call him into existence.
This is where belief becomes interesting. Because these people weren’t actors, they weren’t psychics, and they weren’t trying to deceive anyone — including themselves. They knew Philip was fictional, and yet they set out to see whether their collective attention could make something happen.
And eventually, something did.
Knocking sounds. Rhythmic responses. The table moving. Slight at first, then more confidently. If you’ve ever sat around a Ouija board and felt that moment when the room shifts from joking to dead silent — you’ll understand the sensation. It’s not just about the movement. It’s the way the air changes. The moment your body reacts before your brain does.
I imagine that’s what happened in that Toronto room. Everyone knew Philip wasn’t real — until they felt something that made them question that certainty. And once one person believes, the belief becomes contagious. Group energy is real. Human minds sync. A spark in the room becomes a fire in the room, and suddenly everyone feels like something is there, whether they can define it or not.
Now, depending on what you believe, there are two paths this story can take.
Some say this was purely psychological. The human brain moving the table subconsciously. The ideomotor effect. A shared feedback loop of expectation and excitement.
Others say that when you call out to the void — something answers. But not always the thing you think you’re calling. And that it might have worn Philip’s face for the fun of it.
Either version is unsettling in its own way.
What stands out to me personally are those video clips. Watching the table move with no visible hands lifting it. Not proof — because the paranormal never seems to allow itself proof — but enough to make you sit still for a second. Enough to make you inhale differently. Enough to make you wonder if reality is a thinner membrane than we pretend it is.
Some of the people involved in the experiment did speak about it years later. None of them claimed it was hoaxed. None of them said they summoned an actual spirit either. What most of them said was something closer to this:
“We knew Philip wasn’t real. But the things that happened felt real.”
And that is the part that lingers.
Not the ghost. Not the séance. Not the story they invented.
But the moment where imagination and experience touch. Where the room feels different. Where the mind opens a door it didn’t know it could open.
And once a door is opened — even for a moment — who’s to say it ever really closes?
So here’s my question.
If you tried to recreate the Philip Experiment today — would you be daring enough to go through with it? And if you did, what would you name the entity you were trying to call into existence? Would you choose a new name? Or would you try Philip again?
And what if — just what if — when they created Philip all those years ago, they didn’t create something pretend… but they connected to something that has been drifting ever since. Not gone. Not dead. Just waiting in the quiet spaces between worlds to be acknowledged again.
There was something different about that fall. It wasn’t just the cool wind or the early darkness. It was the quiet sense that danger could be anywhere — at a gas station, a parking lot, a grocery store. After the collective fear of 9/11 and the anthrax scares that followed, America was still trying to breathe again. Then, as if on cue, came a new shadow: the D.C. sniper.
It started on October 2, 2002. People were going about their everyday lives when the unthinkable happened. A man was shot in a parking lot in Maryland — random, senseless. Then it happened again. And again. By the end of the spree, ten innocent people were dead and three were injured. They were fathers, mothers, students — ordinary people who simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And that was the most chilling part: there was no pattern, no clear motive, no reason. The randomness itself was the terror.
We actively reported it at the time for the HORROR REPORT (yes we are getting old)..
At that time, we focused on the crime, the mystery, the psychics saying they knew whodunit.. and even Geraldo saying it was linked to terrorism..
It wasn’t.
The Snipers: A Twisted Bond
When the names were finally revealed, John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, the story only grew darker. Muhammad, the older man, was seen as a manipulative father figure. Malvo, only 17, was the student, the son, and eventually, the one pulling the trigger. It was a relationship that blurred the line between control and indoctrination. The mystery grew deeper.
Investigators later learned that Muhammad’s motive wasn’t random at all. Beneath the chaos was a horrifyingly personal plan.. he wanted to kill his ex-wife, Mildred Muhammad, and hide her murder within the randomness of the spree. Each shooting was designed to make her eventual death look like just another part of the pattern. It’s almost too cruel to comprehend: an entire region terrorized so one man could cover up his own obsession.
Malvo, during his trial, revealed how Muhammad had filled his head with delusions … convincing him they were soldiers on a mission.
Over time, Malvo became the primary shooter, operating from the trunk of a modified Chevrolet Caprice with a small hole drilled near the license plate. He was a minor, controlled by a man with a criminally methodical mind.
The Capture Code
Here is where things get a little creepier.. A little known aspect of the crime remains mostly a mystery even today.
After three weeks of terror, authorities finally caught the pair at a rest stop near Myersville, Maryland, on October 24, 2002. But even the capture carried a strange aura. Montgomery County Police Chief Charles Moose stepped up to the podium and spoke the now-infamous words: “We have caught the sniper like a duck in a noose.” Even more.. Police Chief Charles Moose read that sentence aloud late as part of his message to the sniper, adding: “We understand that hearing us say this is important to you.”
What does the phrase “caught like a duck in a noose” mean to the sniper?
Authorities are not revealing the context in which the sniper – if he is indeed the author of notes left for police – asked them to publicly say: “We have caught the sniper like a duck in a noose.”
Police Chief Charles Moose read that sentence aloud late Wednesday night, as part of his latest message to the sniper, adding: “We understand that hearing us say this is important to you.”
There were rumors immediately afterwards *and even today* that this was all MK ULTRA related and this statement had to be read in order to ‘turn off’ the brain that was wired and programmed to kill. Seriously, with the lack of explanation over the years, this continued to be a point of contention. And remains one of those strange, lingering details ..
The Trials: Justice and Consequence
In the years that followed, both Muhammad and Malvo faced trial. Muhammad was found guilty and sentenced to death in 2004. Malvo, being a juvenile, was sentenced to life in prison without parole.
The defense for Malvo painted him as a victim of manipulation — a teenager molded and brainwashed by a master manipulator. They argued he wasn’t fully responsible for his actions, but rather under the control of someone he saw as a father. Muhammad’s defense, on the other hand, had little to stand on. The evidence was overwhelming, the motive chillingly clear. On November 10, 2009, John Allen Muhammad was executed by lethal injection in Virginia. He refused to utter last words prior to his the execution.
His ex-wife, Mildred Muhammad, later became an advocate for domestic violence survivors. She founded a nonprofit called After the Trauma to help victims rebuild their lives. Her story — surviving abuse, losing her sense of safety, and then rebuilding her purpose — became a powerful counterpoint to the darkness he caused.
Lingering Shadows and Theories
Even after justice was served, the story never truly ended. The D.C. sniper case feels like a mirror reflecting both the fragility of normal life and the deep, unsettling capacity for manipulation and control. For those who lived through it, the fear was real. People zigzagged while pumping gas, ducked behind car doors, and watched the tree lines. It was psychological warfare in broad daylight.
And then there’s that phrase — “the duck in a noose.” Some say it was just a bit of theater; others think it was something more — a cryptic sign from higher up, maybe even tied to deeper conspiracies or hidden messages. Like many dark chapters in American history, this one leaves room for speculation. Maybe that’s part of what keeps it alive in the public mind: the unanswered questions, the lingering unease, the feeling that not every part of the story has been told.
The D.C. sniper case is now history.. but it’s also a reminder of how fear spreads, how control corrupts, and how quickly ordinary days can turn extraordinary in the worst way. In a way it’s about the fall of 2002, when America once again found itself staring into the unknown after a long period of tension..
Even as the facts are settled and the case is closed, there’s still that phrase hanging in the air .. a duck in a noose.
A cryptic whisper fear ruled enough for people to wonder if they may randomly meet a terrible fate.
Every year, when you sort through your children’s Halloween candy, you’re doing it for two reasons. First, probably to steal the best ones before they notice. But second, because you’ve heard the stories: knives in apples, poisoned chocolate bars, and cyanide-laced sweets handed out by strangers.
Guess what? Here is the tough news to consider… It’s not really true and there may be no real logical requirement to keep doing this.. (though we all still will )
There is some history on the origin for this candy fear..
Another high profile case made headlines in 1964, when a 47-year-old mother from Greenlawn, N.Y., named Helen Pfeil handed out bags of treats containing arsenic-laced ant traps, metal mesh scrubbing pads and dog biscuits.
But the real fear began with one man, in Texas, nearly fifty years ago.
The night he came home
On Halloween night 1974, a father named Ronald Clark O’Bryan, later called “The Candyman” by major media that loves naming killers for pop culture and sales purposes, laced powdered candy with cyanide. He was also called the The Pixy Stix Killer but that name didn’t seem to stick …
O’Bryan didn’t lace candy to poison his neighborhood in Pasadena, Texas. He did it to kill his own 8-year-old son, Timothy, for life-insurance money.
That is the horrid truth behind this urban legend.. It was real in a sense, but it was disgustingly personal for O’Bryan.
O’Bryan, a 30-year-old optician from nearby Deer Park, joined his children and neighbors for trick-or-treating. One house was dark; no one answered the door, so the kids moved on. O’Bryan lagged behind for show, then caught up holding five giant Pixy Stix, about 21 inches long, sealed with staples. They were tampered with– by him.
He explained to the children they were lucky: The “rich neighbors” were handing out expensive treats. Each child got one. Later, he gave one to his five-year-old daughter and another to a ten-year-old boy from his church.
That night, Timothy ate a few spoonfuls of the powdered candy, complained it tasted bitter, and collapsed. Within minutes he was dead.. he was poisoned by his own father.
The Investigation
O’Bryan claimed a mysterious neighbor had handed him the candy. But the man he blamed, Courtney Melvin, was at work as an air-traffic controller on duty that night and he had more than 200 coworkers confirming his alibi to law enforcement.
Detectives soon learned O’Bryan’s life was a complete train wreck. He was more than $100,000 in debt, behind on his mortgage and car payments, suspected of theft at work, and had held 21 jobs in 10 years. In the months before Halloween, he quietly took out life-insurance policies totaling up to $60,000 to $100,000 on his children!
At trial, witnesses testified that O’Bryan had asked about buying cyanide and even discussed lethal doses. His sister-in-law told the court that at Timothy’s funeral, he spoke excitedly about collecting insurance money and taking a vacation.
Prosecutor Mike Hinton told jurors: that the only inescapable conclusion you can draw is that this man killed his own child for money.
The case seemed as air tight as people can desire.
It took the jury 46 minutes to find O’Bryan guilty.
The Candyman’s Final Trick
O’Bryan maintained his innocence for nearly a decade. On March 31, 1984, he was executed by lethal injection. His final meal: steak, French fries, peas, corn, salad, rolls, iced tea, and for desert a Boston cream pie.
Outside the prison, protesters wearing Halloween masks chanted “Trick or Treat!”
It was both macabre theater and a grim bookend to the legend he had created.
The root of fear
O’Bryan’s crime transformed Halloween. Parents no longer saw candy as harmless; they saw potential danger. In the years that followed, rumors spread nationwide .. tainted treats, razor blades in apples, needles in chocolate bars.
By the 1980s, police and hospitals offered X-ray screenings for candy. Families examined every wrapper under bright kitchen lights.
To this day, continued stories occur each Halloween season in which people report tampering of candy to cops.. such as this from 2015 in Kennett Square PA, when parents complained to police about needles in treats.. which turned out to be a hoax.
The Legacy
The Candyman’s story became the template for America’s Halloween anxiety. It was a true crime that birthed a thousand false ones..
Every October, parents still dump candy onto the dining-room table, sifting through it like forensic scientists. It’s ritual now, a strange inheritance from 1970s.
Because even though the candy isn’t poisoned, the fear still is there..
According to Professor Joel Best, there have been approximately 80 reports of sharp objects inserted into Halloween treats since 1959. The great majority of those reports turned out to be hoaxes
Don’t feel guilty about checking the candy.. you know, just in case.
And while you’re looking through, maybe just throw away those candy corns that ruin teeth and don’t taste good anyway.
When a movie makes it big, it’s is half because of the movie.. the other half is due to the culture it is tapping into.
Fifty years ago today, on June 19, 1975, a movie premiered that didn’t just dominate the box office — it redefined it. Jaws wasn’t just a film. It was a cultural eruption. A tectonic shift in how movies were made, marketed, and remembered. And it didn’t just scare people in theaters. It made them afraid to put their legs in the water.
I wasn’t alive in 1975. Everything I know about that era comes from siblings, old newspaper clippings, and stories my late parents used to tell. But Jaws still reached me. Its shadow has loomed over every summer since. And maybe that’s the most powerful legacy of all: a movie so deeply embedded in the American psyche that it still haunts the waves five decades later.
Kids then were playing in playgrounds with metal slides and staying out until the street lights came on.. but fear was lurking in places that people never noticed until then..
The Perfect Cultural Storm…
1975 was a strange, tense time in America. The Vietnam War had just ended. Nixon had resigned in disgrace. Inflation was high, and faith in leadership was lower than ever. There was a national malaise settling in. Distrust of institutions. Paranoia. A sense that the world was changing too fast and too violently to understand.
Then came Spielberg.
At just 27, Steven Spielberg tapped into all of that anxiety — not overtly, but instinctively. Jaws was a movie about a shark, sure. But it was also a movie about a mayor more concerned about tourism dollars than public safety. About institutions failing. About fear hiding just beneath the surface.
And he didn’t need blood and gore to do it. The shark barely appears in the first half of the film. It was mechanical. Broken, half the time. But Spielberg turned that weakness into strength: he let our imaginations do the work. The tension simmered in the absence. The dread grew in the silence. And then there was the score.
The Score That Changed Everything
John Williams gave us a soundtrack of suspense that has never been topped. Two notes. That’s all it took. Dunna… Dunna…
It sounds simple. It was simple. But it was primal. It mimicked a heartbeat, a countdown, a presence just behind you. That score didn’t just accompany Jaws — it was the shark. It was the fear.
And it didn’t stay contained to the screen. It spilled out into the real world. Newspaper articles from the time talked about people who were afraid to go to the beach. Even lakes. Attendance at some coastal resorts dropped. All because a film made the unseen feel more terrifying than anything visible.
(Click the photo to see full size)
From Classic Monsters to Real Monsters
Before Jaws, monsters were myths. Frankenstein. Dracula. Godzilla. Fantastical creatures. Jaws made the monster real. Great white sharks exist. We just hadn’t thought to fear them yet. Spielberg didn’t invent the idea of terror — he just relocated it to the familiar.
He took the safe, sunny world of suburban beach trips and laced it with danger. He gave the ocean teeth. And that idea rippled out far beyond Jaws itself. You can see it in Nightmare on Elm Street Part 4, where Freddy’s claw circles in ocean waves — an unmistakable nod to the shark.
Even Saturday Night Live created a sketch character based on the Jaws concept: a shark pretending to be a door-to-door mailman.
Can It Happen Again?
This is the question I keep coming back to.
Yes, we’ve had massive summer blockbusters since: Jurassic Park, The Dark Knight, Avengers: Endgame. But nothing has ever truly matched the shockwave of Jaws. Nothing changed the entire film industry overnight quite like it.
Why not?
Because we live in a different world now. We’re saturated with media. Spoiled by CGI. We know too much. Trailers give away plot twists. Behind-the-scenes features run before a movie even premieres. The mystery is gone.
So it will most likely never ever happen again. At least not like it did in ’75..
In 1975, a movie could still sneak up on you. Jaws did more than that — it sunk its teeth into a nation’s soul and never let go.
Spielberg would go on to do it again with E.T., with Poltergeist, and with Close Encounters. He has a gift for capturing the temperature of society in a given moment. But Jaws was the first. And maybe the most lasting.
So here’s to 50 years of fearing the ocean. Here’s to two simple notes that made us question whether we really wanted to dangle our feet in the water. Here’s to the monster that was all too real — and the genius who knew exactly when to unleash it.
Happy anniversary, Jaws. The beach was never the same.
It was a magical summer for the box office.. June 1990; school was out ‘forever’ and the 1990s just began. While we did not have the luxury or burden based on your point of view of delving deep into the 90s yet, the future was bright we were still wearing shades.
And after several successful summers of box office glory for super heroes, Dick Tracy entered the fray.
Armed with his watch, yellow coat, and crime fighter ability, Warren Beatty donned the famed detective hat and have us, in our opinion, one of the greatest movies of all time. The magic of the film was its creativity, its style, its music, Madonna, but its colorful array of villians.
Back then we didn’t have ROTTEN TOMATOES, but instead we all trusted Siskel and Ebert. Here is what they thought about the movie in June 1990:
The movie was released on June 15, 1990 to great fanfare and buildup in fishwrappers across America. “Dick Tracy” (1990) grossed $103,738,726 domestically, ranking it 9th in worldwide box office for the year. It reached the #1 spot at the domestic box office during the week of June 15-21, 1990
By Christmas kids, including me, were asking for and getting DICK TRACY the NINTENDO game..
Playing with action figures. Except the BLANK. That was purposely sparely placed on store racks giving kids a false hope that one day they would find it.
We were lucky that year to see this movie in a theater for the first time. It created a sense of nostalgia for the oldtimers… and something new for younger people. It even made me read newspapers again! That summer papers across America re-published old Dick Tracy comics and I for one was using my summer time off to cut them out and create a collage. I wish I still had it today.
And we had the summer of Dick at McDonalds.. We were all led to believe we were crimestoppers and could win millions on their scratch offs!
Newspapers at the time even report about the nostalgia that the then released film was bringing back:
But what made that summer EVEN better? It was one of MANY films that came out that we still watch and talk about today.
Just think.. the hot summer 35 years ago were were watching TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES, PRETTY WOMAN, and GREMLINS II. I will avoid being joyful about BACK TO THE FUTURE III, that one just didn’t hit great and today still has not caught on.
Yes indeed.. that summer was magical, vibrant.. and gave us Dick Tracy. An underrated classic that we still think holds up even in today’s times..
Dick Tracy (1990)
Directed by Warren Beatty
Shown (from left): William Forsythe (as Flattop), Ed O’Ross (as Itchy), Madonna (as Breathless Mahoney), Al Pacino (as Big Boy Caprice), top – Henry Silva (as Influence), R.G. Armstrong (as Pruneface)
