(UPDATE: See the bottom of the post for the haunted house’s website and contact info).
Davetavius has a job. (I know, right? What a fuckin’ loser.) I call his boss Ultradave, because he’s the distilled essence of what it means to be a guy named Dave. Meaning that I can’t believe he doesn’t manage a guitar shop in Colorado. Ultradave, in addition to owning the world’s largest collection of Converse All-stars, is also the world’s premier Rob Zombie fan, though I suspect (hope) there’s at least a teaspoon or two of irony in the mix. Being that Ultradave is so into Rob Zombie, it comes as no surprise that he’s also a fan of haunted houses. Hence, it is also no surprise that the employee Halloween party he hosted last night involved a trip to a haunted house located behind the Masquerade, an Atlanta concert venue/club that appears to dominate the stupid metal band scene here in town since there’s always some hilarious band name on the marquee. (Angel Raper, Corpse Fucker, Putrid Afterbirth, Defile the Innocent. OK, Natethaniel and I made all of those up.) I’d sooner spend an entire day watching Geico commercials than spend one second in a haunted house, but I went to the party anyway since I heard there’d be beer. The bar situation was really pretty amazing. They had set a bar up outside in a dirt lot in order to provide drinks to customers waiting to check out the haunted house, and there was some DJ there playing Eazy-E and Motley Crue on giant speakers for a crowd of maybe eight people. I felt like an attendee at a high school party held by the kid that no one likes.
I and Davetavius (not Davetavius and I — I’m a feminist, dude) were standing there wondering where the fuck everyone was and what we were doing there when our friend Jack came running up wearing a Fred Flintstone dress (even though he looks like a giant Barney Rubble) and asked whether we’d been in the haunted house. We both snorted in response, and Jack said to me, “I don’t know what to say about it, but I thought of you while I was in there.” I was puzzled. What could possibly be going on in a haunted house that would make someone think of me?
We wandered around some more and came across Jack’s girlfriend Kerry and Natethaniel, who was dressed either as an Amish guy or a Quaker (or maybe simply a suspenders enthusiast). They asked us if we’d been in the haunted house, and we again snorted. They both looked at me with a noticeable measure of anxiety, so I again began to wonder what the hell was going on in this god-damned haunted house that had to do with me.
I suppose all of you readers are saying to your computers, “Duh, Nine Deuce, it’s a haunted house. What did you think was going on?” But you must remember that I haven’t been in a haunted house since maybe 1989. At that time, the average haunted house was just a series of dark halls in which drama club dorks with masks and plastic axes would jump out at you and say things like, “You’d better run for your life!” in their best attempt at a spooky muahahaha voice. Even when I was eleven that shit was basically whatever the opposite of scary is. But now it’s 2009, and we live in a world in which movies like Hostel, Saw 1-76, and the Halloween remakes (which are Rob Zombie joints, in case you didn’t know) make millions of dollars. I should have known that would affect the goings-on at the nation’s haunted houses. Stupid me.
Apparently, in the modern haunted house scene, rape is where it’s at. Kerry and Natethaniel told me that the haunted house’s “attractions” included a woman being brutally gang raped, women being tortured, women being murdered, a woman’s torso with the genital area completely mutilated, an exploding ass (I forgot to ask what sex the exploding ass was), and so on and so forth. All of the above came with plenty of blood. My friend Steve said that a better name for the haunted house might be “The Mutilated Vagina House,” and I asked him, rhetorically, why there weren’t more mutilated penises in the mix. He replied that no one would come, and he was right.
Is there really anyone out there who still denies the fact that pretty much everyone hates women? Would it be likely, in a non-misogynistic society, that a large part of the popular entertainment industry would be made up of depictions of women being raped, tortured, and murdered? Would people be walking out of haunted houses in which women were being gang raped and tortured to death with boners gasping about how “awesuuuhhhmm” it was? OK, I didn’t see any actual boners, but I’m sure there were at least a few, judging by the looks of the cretins walking around outside the place. Steve was right, no one would go to a haunted house in which men were being sexually tortured and murdered, because men are human beings, and that’s just over the line. And it’s nowhere near as hot as watching the same happen to women’s bodies.
I mean it, dude. I’m moving to Antarctica.
UPDATE: If you’re in need of something to be pissed off about, you can see the show’s site here. And if, after having seen it, you’d like to tell the operators what you think, here‘s the contact page.