Wednesday, August 31, 2011


The Ghost Maker: A Halloween Tale
By John Carpenter
I live my days in silence, behind the barred in windows of this asylum, in a cell of shadows. Until this moment I have spoken to no living person of the events of that Halloween night five years ago - because I could neither ask for nor expect belief.

But today, my doctor has given me paper and a pen, as he hopes I shall be compelled to write out my tale of horror and madness - once and for all expelling the demons that hold me in their catatonic embrace. I know this horror shall never leave me.

So my purpose, Dear Reader, is to finally put before the world the events of Oct. 31, five years past, as I experienced them, that no man may follow me to this hideous darkness in which I dwell, awaiting the only mercy I shall ever know - my release - the moment of death.

It was a bitterly cold night and I welcomed the warmth of the hearth in Howard Necron's study that All Hallow's Eve five years ago. I settled myself comfortably into an armchair by the crackling fireplace and waited as Necron poured two large snifters of brandy. He then turned to me with the oddest smile...

"I suppose, William, that you wonder why I have asked you here this evening," Necron said as he poured the amber liquid.

I admitted that I had been somewhat curious, as for the last 15 years we had been bitter professional rivals. We had once been partners in science and the closest of friends as well, but a dark schism had developed over our opposing research ethics. Necron had always wanted to prove that which should have, to my mind at least, remained in the ephemeral world of mathematics and theory. Disagreement had turned to debate, which in turn had become cold enmity.

"What would you say, William, if I told you that using universally accepted scientific principles, I could create a ghost?"

"I would say, Necron, that you were as mad as a March hare." My smile of derision must have been obvious, for he turned quickly away, pausing for a moment with his back to me before he slowly crossed the study to hand me the brandy snifter.

"To science, eh, William?" As he raised his glass to mine, his gaze seemed to burn into me, as if a shrewd smokey secret passed behind his eyes. I nodded and took a sip of the brandy. It had a sharp undertaste, and as I started to mention something about it, Necron settled himself closer to me on the ottoman at my feet.

"What is Schrodinger's cat?" he asked in a whisper.

"There's no need for this. We both know what it is." I suddenly felt unfocused. Drowsy. Probably the heat from the fire, making me sleepy. "It is a... a... thought experiment used to demonstrate the paradox of observer-created reality," I answered.

Necron seemed unbearably close to me now, his face but inches from my own.

"Yes," he said, "Nothing is real until you observe it."

Necron now stood, staring down at me with triumph and ice, the fire flickering on his face, shadows squirming like mad, devouring insects. A wave of dizziness washed through me.

Necron continued: "Imagine a box. The size of a coffin. Inside it is a radioactive particle with a 50-50 chance of decaying in, say, one minute. Also in the box is a glass bottle containing cyanide gas, and a Geiger counter. And, finally, into the box, is placed - an unconscious man."

"A cat, wasn't it?" I broke in. I was having a difficult time maintaining any line of reasoning, but there was a chill to his words.

His eyes began to drift strangely above me, as I sipped once again from my drink. That metallic undertaste assaulted me again. What had he put in my brandy? Could Necron be that insane? I tried to focus on his face. His features seemed to melt in the heat of the fire.

"If the radioactive particle decays, the Geiger counter so records it, trips a hammer, smashes the glass bottle, thus allowing the cyanide gas to escape and kill the man."

Necron's words were running all together.

"You mean... the cat," I mumbled weakly.

"Or," he said, "if the particle does not decay, the Geiger counter is silent, the hammer not tripped, the man allowed to live."

The room was spinning like a child's music box. The heat from the fireplace... Necron looming above me... My eyes bobbed open, closed. "What did you put... in my drink?"

But Necron ignored my slurred question.

"Don't you see, William? I could be either a murderer or a savior, because until human eyes see inside the box, the man inside is both dead and alive at the same time - a complex, linear combination of the two. The man in the box is a ghost of all possibilities of dead and alive, condemned to live in a limbo until the box is opened and he is observed by human eyes." His voice had dropped to a sibilant rasp, eyes glowing with a fury.

The snifter of brandy suddenly fell from my fingers. As I lost consciousness Necron's face was the last thing I saw.

"I am the ghost maker," he said, grinning. Then there was nothing. Blackness. Silence.

I awoke. I was lying down. Enclosed. Trapped. I couldn't move. Listening. Trying to breath. Then suddenly I threw up my arms. Touched a solid surface above me, no more than a foot away from my face. A lid. I was buried. In a coffin. A box.

I pushed up the lid a fraction of an inch.

A sliver of morning sunlight appeared as the lid opened, illuminating the inside of the box.

I suddenly saw the thing above me. It was hovering, just a foot away. Its body prone, it was staring down at me. Fuzzy. Indistinct. Its arms reached for me and at the same time another pair of arms lay at its side.

It was a blurred composite. A living transition. A contradiction. All possibilities, dead and alive. It undulated. Gazing eyes. Dead eyes. Living eyes. Blue decaying flesh.

In the fraction of a second before it disappeared I saw the creature's shape crawling, diffracting - indefinite, exploding anew out of rippling flesh.

A leering death's head began to scream down at me, disintegrating, crumbling and decomposing, growing and rejuvenating, humanity degraded and corrupted, dead and alive, revealed in an instant.

And then it was over. The thing disappeared. Its features settled, collapsed into definition. I looked around - the glass bottle at my feet was unbroken, the cyanide gas contained. The Geiger counter at my side was silent.

My mind raced frantically. Dead plus alive. Alive minus dead. Dead plus the square root of minus alive.

And then, as I continued to push upward, the impact of Necron's experiment hit me. As my fingers lifted the underside of the lid, the thing made man stared back at me in horror, screaming a long, sustained shriek of utter annihilation. Touching the unfeeling surface of a mirror - I realized the hideous image had been a reflection.

It was I.



© 1988, John Carpenter and The New York Times.

100 Posts!

If you guys are interested, check out J.Day's blog The Ramblings of Charlie Brown to sign up to her Postcard Campaign!

And while you're at it, say hello to George too over at It's Time That I Said Something About This

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Being Happy - Part 9

The ninth installment of my Being Happy series, inspired by Sofia's Journal

#81 Being myself

#82 Browsing through family photo albums

#83 The smell of bakeries

#84 Finding shapes in clouds

#85 The full moon

#86 Dancing with Paul

#87 Wolves

#88 Collecting souvenirs

#89 Having a vivid imagination

#90 Blowing bubbles

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Conan The Barbarian: Review


Firstly I'd like to point out that I wasn't expecting much from this movie. I haven't seen the original so it wasn't because of that, it just screamed "crap" the first time I saw the trailer. Though slowly over time I became quite curious - especially since the guy who plays Conan also played Kal Drogo in A Game of Thrones. A character I loved.

In the opening scene, Conan is untimely ripped from his mother's womb as she is fatally stabbed during a battle. Thus he becomes known as being a child born of battle. Very epic but slightly tainted by the fact that his dad lifts him up above his head which unfortunately made me expect The Circle of Life to be played. Alas, it did not.

Next we see Conan as a young boy, who has a disturbing thirst for blood. Seriously, I couldn't tell whether his father was proud of him or scared of him! Though the scene where he kills like eight bad guys on his own is pretty cool. I think I should mention here that if you can't stomach blood and gore then it's best if you avoid this movie at all costs. Not only that but the sound effects are pretty loud that at times I was cringing in my seat.

Now the plot, a bad guy comes to Conan's village and steals the final piece of an ancient mask which will resurrect his dead wife. His dead wife, being an evil sorceresss will then turn him into a God because she loves him and then they will plunge the world into darkness and rule forever etc etc. The bad man destroys Conan's village, kills his father and leaves Conan alive because "he likes his courage". 

The next time we see Conan, he's all grown up with a bunch of mates who are just as bloodthirsty as him yet they all have good morals such as using their brute strength to free slaves. Conan of course is trying to avenge his father and his search to kill the bad man results in him crossing paths with a woman who has lived in a monestary all her life. The bad man needs this woman as he plans to sacrifice her in order to resurrect his wife and only she will do as she is a "pureblood". I'm sure Voldemort would have loved this man.

What I found unbelievable about the plot however is that the woman is quite a good fighter and isn't shy when it comes to "sexy time" with Conan. Surely, if she lived in a monestary all her life then she'd be pretty useless on the battlefield plus extremely coy and inexperienced with men? 

Another thing that bugged me is that when Conan first fights with the bad man he is completely useless but when the bad man wears the mask (which is meant to make him really powerful) Conan kicks his ass! It makes no sense. Also, the bad man's teeth were too straight and white to be believable. Instead they made him look like Simon Cowell.

Overall though, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It is actually quite enjoyable.

  • The epic fight scenes
  • Paige from Charmed looking like a Klingon
  • Jason Momoa's performance as Conan
Rating: 4/5

Song of the Week #5

Nerina Pallot - Turn Me On Again

It just makes me happy listening to it...

A pointless post that I hope you read anyway...

Hey guys,

So you might have noticed that I've been fiddling around with the look and feel of my blog lately. What do you think? Do you like it? I've always wanted my own personalised header and I'm pretty pleased with how my first attempt came out. Though I've no idea if it can be centered because it's currently sitting just off centre and it's bugging the perfectionist inside me!

I've also removed the "labels" off my posts because... well there isn't a reason really. Unless you count being too lazy to include them as a reason...

Next, I've added a Blogoversary gadget thingy so that I don't lose track of when my blog is one year old. Only 212 days to go...

In my About Me section, I've written a bunch of things that hopefully gives you a better description of the type of person I am. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed creating them!

And after seeing them everywhere, I finally got my own signature too which I think looks really snazzy! 

Saturday, August 27, 2011

The Inbetweeners Movie: Review


Firstly, this was a very popular and successful comedy show in Britain focusing on four teenage boys lives as they attend school and pretty much try to get laid. It's absolutely hilarious and I highly recommend the series to anyone. Though it's probably best to avoid it if you're easily offended! Now, the film focuses on these four boys finishing school and going on a lad's holiday to Crete. Although you don't need to have seen the series to understand the movie, I'd advise you to watch the series first because you'll be more familiar with the characters personalities. Otherwise, they may just come across as... weird. 

Anyway, after arriving at their shit hotel they hit the bars and as it's a comedy, they manage to find the crappest one in the whole island of Crete. Cue disturbing scenes of Neil getting off with muttons dressed as lambs. I told you it's not for the faint hearted! They also meet four teenage girls so already you can sort of guess that eventually they are all going to end up together. But before that happens, I nearly died laughing at the boys trying to impress them with their dancing skills! It's so god damn funny. 

So throughout the film, Will is trying to impress his potential match, Simon is too busy caring about his ex that he doesn't notice how much his potential match fancies him, Jay is embarrassed that his potential match is chubby and Neil's potential match just watches him get off with all these trashy grannies. Which again, is just disturbing. 

At times this movie frustrated me because lets face it, they're teenage boys who haven't got a clue when it comes to girls! I wanted to smack Simon for being so blind to the fact that his potential match was a hundred times better than his ex! Seriously, this happened so much that the entire audience was groaning with frustration! 

I won't spoil the ending but I was really pleased with it. I guess I just loved how they all seemed to "grow up" and become men for once. You'll understand what I mean when you watch it.

  • The boy's dancing - still cracks me up!
  • The general camaraderie between the boys
  • The sweet ending
  • Neil's giant shit
Yes I am aware that it is strange for a shit to be a highlight but it was a really funny scene! Don't judge me...

Rating: 5/5

Thursday, August 25, 2011


I can't believe how awesome you all are. Every day I'm in awe reading all of your wonderful blogs. Whether you have 200 followers or 20, your ability to write such incredible posts makes me realise how lucky I am to have you as followers. Or as I like to call you, my little angels.

Today as I stare at this blank screen, thinking of what to say, I became jealous of all you guys. I want to write as good as you all do. Everything you say is either interesting, moving, beautiful, hilarious or a combination of all of these. Why can't I write like that?

I plan on thanking you properly with my very own award soon. Just because you are my inspiration.

Love, Hazel


A professor was working late one wintry night when a sudden storm came, dropping over a foot of snow on the ground in record time. The professor, seeing that he had been essentially snowed into the building, readied himself to spend the night.

He alerted the university's security guard that due to the weather he was going to be spending the night. The security guard nodded, but then warned him of the things  he might experience during the night, such as knocking and footsteps, as well as the ghostly figure of a girl who is sometimes spotted roaming the halls late at night.

The professor found the security guard's claims dubious at best, but eager to get back to work, merely said he would keep an eye out.

After several more hours of grading papers, the professor saw that it was approaching three a.m. and decided it was time to turn in for the night. He stretched out on a couch in his office and had just fallen asleep when he was woken up by the sound of someone knocking at his door. The professor, remembering the security guard's warnings, became frightened and tried to ignore the sounds. 

As he tried to go back to sleep, the knocking came again. Wondering if maybe it was the security guard himself, he got up. To make sure it was the guard before opening, he peaked through the keyhole of the door. All he saw was the color red, and assuming that a person wearing that color was standing in the hallway, he opened the door.

No one was there.

He closed the door and went back to bed, tossing and turning for the remainder of the night.

When morning came, the professor located the security guard and told him of his strange experience, and how he had peered through the keyhole and saw a close-up of red - what he had assumed was someone's clothing. The security guard merely nodded, not surprised by the professor's description. The guard went on to explain that the spirit said to haunt the university was of a young girl - a former student - who had been ritualistically killed several years earlier. 

Her eyes had been carved out of her skull, leaving behind red, bloody holes.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


The Fourth Award Ceremony

I'm sure everyone is sick of these award ceremonies but I'm not - keep them coming I say!

I just don't feel right if I don't dedicate a post to thank fellow bloggers for awarding me. They took the time to award me so it's only decent that I take the time to thank them! Plus, I enjoy doing it so I can advertise their awesomeness to everyone. Because like, if you award me, then like, you're automatically deemed awesome. Just thought I'd point that out, you know, in case anybody else has spare awards out there... ... 


So I'd like to say a huge thank you to Love from A Journey Called Life for awarding me the "You Make Me Happy" award:

and to Ezazi from Chatterings of a Drunk Butterfly for awarding me "The Drunk Butterfly" award which is extra special as she made it herself:

Thank you guys so much! You're both awesome!

Love, Hazel

Monday, August 22, 2011

Being Happy - Part 8

The eighth installment of my Being Happy series, inspired by Sofia's Journal

#71 Sunsets & sunrises

#72 Believing in magic

#73 Being a geek

#74 Roaring fires on cold nights

#75 Being in love

#76 Wearing nail polish

#77 Having privacy

#78 When rays of sunshine break through the clouds

#79 Puzzles

#80 My pets - Penny & Cally

Love, Hazel

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Star Quality

What do you have to do to become a celebrity?

I'm asking, not because I wish to become one, but because lately in this day and age, everyone can become one despite not having any talent whatsoever.

I think this is wrong. In my eyes, only those who have a respectable talent should be considered as a celebrity. I hate how lately, spouses are claiming to be celebrities just because they are or were married or dating a celebrity. How does dating a celebrity make you a celebrity? It's crazy! 

To me, you should only have celebrity status if you are an actor/actress, movie director, singer/musician, comedian, sports star or author. These people have respectable talents and deserve to be known as celebrities.

Examples include Johnny Depp, Tim Burton, Rihanna, Peter Kay, David Beckham and JK Rowling. All these people have brought us things we love and enjoy - movies, songs, laughter, sport and a magical world. Surely, only those who can match this standard of talent should be called celebrities too?

I refuse to consider reality stars, models, daughters of businessmen or spouses of celebrities as celebrities! So following that logic, the likes of Amy Childs, Kate Moss, Paris Hilton and Alex Reid are not celebrities.

  • Amy Childs is a pretty but thick as two planks reality star over here in Britain. She's quickly becoming the nations new sweetheart. And what is she "famous" for? For taking part in a reality show where she sticks jewels on ladies private parts. Yeah. Exactly.
  • Kate Moss may be famous but what for? All she does is wear clothes for a living or pose half nekkid. Anybody could do that! Plus, models these days are airbrushed within an inch of their lives so you don't even have to be remotely attractive anymore.
  • Paris Hilton is famous because she has a rich daddy. Therefore she gets to shop all day and party all night. She's unemployed but that doesn't sound as good as "socialite".
  • And Alex Reid was a nobody until he started dating Katie Price. But he is now a full blown "celebrity" for reasons unbeknownst to me. I wouldn't even consider Katie Price a celebrity either...

Now I'm not attacking these people's personalities, I'm sure most of them are actually really lovely. It's just... they're not in the same league as the likes of Elton John or Angelina Jolie. If anything, I'd want these sort of people to be classified under something other than the term "celebrity". 

How about, "fame sharks" or "desperate wannabe's"? I know they're not as catchy but they're more realistic. It would also be nice if we didn't put these sort of people on pedestals or consider them decent role models for children. Surely it would be better for children to aspire to be like Kate Winslet instead of Kim Kardashian?

Does anybody else feel the same way about this or am I the only one?

Love, Hazel

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The Third Award Ceremony

Not once did I expect to receive any awards when I started blogging. Though that being said, I do adore them as they make feel great knowing that there are people out there who enjoy reading what I have to say. And that means so much to me!

Firstly, I'd like to thank Jewels from According to Jewels who awarded me her own personal award. I love being a Jewels Gem! Unfortunately I can't pass this on as only she can name her Gems but I just wanted to say thank you and to give her a little shout out.

Secondly, I received the "Blog on Fire" award from Kyla from Kyla's Not Normal

I would like to pass this award onto:

Normal is Overrated from Conceal your Thoughts
Serendipity from Little Moments of Bliss

Next, I received the "I Dig Your Blog" award by Bhadra from BhadrAwr

I would like to pass this award onto:

Anna from Artist's Charm

And finally, it's time for the combined eight fascinating facts about me. I use the term fascinating very loosely by the way...

I hate the smell of bleach
Daddy-long legs freak me out
I'm a Libra
I've only ever been abroad once and that was to Rome
When I get nervous I automatically put on a posh accent
The first film I saw in the cinema was Ghost Town in 2008. I'd never been before that. I was sixteen. I lived a sheltered life!
I love everything strawberry flavoured but can't stand actual strawberries

Thank you all so much for following guys - I love all of you!

Love, Hazel

Friday, August 19, 2011


In March of 2000, the below painting, officially titled "The Hands Resist Him," was sold on eBay with the description "The Haunted Painting." 

The original auction description (edited for clarity) is below:
When we received this painting, we thought it was really good art.  A "picker" had found it abandoned behind an old brewery. At the time we wondered a little why a seemingly perfectly fine painting would be discarded like that. (Today we don't !!! ) One morning, our four-and-a-half-year-old daughter claimed that the children in the picture were fighting and coming into the room during the night. Now, I don't believe in UFOs, or Elvis being alive, but my husband was alarmed. To my amusement, he set up a motion-triggered camera. After three nights, there were pictures. The last two pictures shown are from that 'stakeout'.

After seeing the boy seemingly exiting the painting under threat, we decided: the painting has to go.
[Wikipedia also states: "Included with the listing were a series of photographs that were said to be evidence of an incident in which the female doll character threatened the male character with a gun that she was holding, causing him to attempt to leave the painting."]

The original ad continues:
Please judge for yourself. Before you do, please read the following warning and disclaimer. 

Do not bid on this painting if you are susceptible to stress-related disease, faint of heart, or are unfamiliar with supernatural events. By bidding on this painting, you agree to release the owners of all liability in relation to the sale or any events happening after the sale that might be [attributed] to this painting. This painting may or may not possess supernatural powers that could impact or change your life. However, by bidding, you agree to exclusively bid on the value of the artwork, with disregard to the last two photos featured in this auction, and hold the owners harmless in regards to them and their impact - expressed, or implied.

Now that we got this out of the way, one question to you eBayers: we want our house to be blessed after the painting is gone; does anybody know who is qualified to do that?
The size of the painting is 24 by 36 inches, so it is rather large. As I have had several questions, here the following answers.
  • There was no odor left behind in the room.

  • There were no voices, or the smell of gunpowder; no [footprints] or strange fluids on the wall.

  • To deter questions in this direction, there are no ghosts in this world - no supernatural powers - this is just a painting, and [mostly] these things have an explanation; in this case, [it was] probably a fluke light effect.

I encourage you to bid on the artwork, and consider the last two photographs as pure entertainment; please do not take them into consideration when bidding.

As we think it is a good idea to bless any house, we still welcome input into that procedure.

After the posting of the auction, which attracted thousands of visitors, many people who saw the painting began to experience strange auditory/aural hallucinations and bouts of hypochondria...or genuine hauntings:
  • One claimed to have heard a demonic voice speaking directly to them - a voice they claimed was quite similar to one used for the possessed Regan MacNeil in The Exorcist. They also claimed to have felt a blast of hot air in their face.

  • Another reported that the mere site of the painting caused them to fall instantly ill and even went as far as burning white sage to cleanse their house.

  • Yet another person claimed to have suffered "blackout/mind control experiences."

  • One person claimed that when they attempted to print their own pictures of the painting, their printer malfunctioned, as if refusing to print the image of the painting. 

The painting's artist, Bill Stoneham, explains the inspiration and origin of the painting:

"When I painted the Hands Resist Him in 1972, I used an old photo of myself at age five in a Chicago apartment. The hands are the 'other lives.' The glass door, that thin veil between waking and dreaming. The girl/doll is the imagined companion, or guide through this realm.

Both the owner of the Gallery where 'Hands' was displayed and the Los Angeles Times art critic who reviewed my show were dead within a year of the show.

I'm sure it was coincidence, but some of what I paint resonates in other people, opening the inner door, or basement. By the way, I still have no idea what happened to the character actor who bought the painting at the show (editor note: it was John Marley*, who died in 1984), or how it ended up abandoned in a building, though I could speculate." 

* The unfortunate movie producer from The Godfather who denied Johnny Fontane a part in his movie and got a horse head in his bed for his troubles.

Prints of "The Hands Resist Him" are available on Bill's official site.

Feeling brave?

How It Should Have Ended...


Love, Hazel

Thursday, August 18, 2011


Possessions. Voodoo. Ghost sex.

It's all in a day's work for the hosts of Ghost Adventures, a highly entertaining ghost hunting show enigmatically featured on the Travel Channel.

While I am immensely interested in the paranormal, I consider myself a skeptic. I've never seen a ghost, nor ever personally encountered any strong evidence that would convince me of their existence. I have listened to several EVPs captured by someone very close I absolutely trust, and the voices caught on them certainly made me raise an eyebrow. But at the same time...that's not enough. Still, I remain open-minded to the possibility. To so assuredly proclaim that ghosts don't exist reeks of arrogance to me, because really, how do you know? Science unearths discoveries every day that sometimes contradict earlier findings. It's the nature of the thing. Who is to say what doesn't exist today will become otherwise tomorrow? But that's best saved for another debate between folks far more brained than I.

Ghost Adventures is a ghost hunting show like no other. It is not hosted by a drab old British man, or a couple of plumbers. It is hosted by three of the most entertaining frat guys you have ever met.

Your main host is Zak Bagans. His impetuous dynamism and intensity would almost be contagious if it weren't almost constantly teetering on absurdity. He religiously performs over the top monologues and speaks with HALTING. TONES. RIGHT. AT. YOU. Regularly dressed in paint-splatter crest t-shirts and black jeans, and with his hair seemingly its own living entity, one gets the feeling that his penchant for ghost hunting just about overshadows his penchant for male modeling. I once asked a fellow paranormal enthusiast what they thought of Ghost Adventures. They replied, "It's decent - but that main guy is kind of a tool." That's a pretty accurate summation of Zak Bagans, what with his macho-ism and bulging tattooed biceps. While an official label for Zak would be metro-sexual, I prefer the term Baganism. He truly is in a class by himself.

Zak Bagans.
Leader. Macho. Moe.
Next in the line-up is Nick Groff, certainly the least dynamic of the hosts, but probably the  bravest. He's usually the one getting locked into morgue drawers and sitting in rooms by himself. He is the Dean Martin of the duo, playing the straight man against Zak's Jerry Lewis. He comes across as fairly level-headed and not nearly as brutish as Zak. He is like a tabletop diner jukebox, or Vice-President Biden. He's just kind of there.

Nick Groff.
Zak's Number Two. Straight Man. Larry.

Last, but certainly not least, we have Aaron Goodwin. This lovable goofball is the heart of the show. He takes the most abuse and does whatever he is ordered to do, like sit in rooms by himself and ask taunting questions he really doesn't want to ask, or crawl under antique death wagons as Zak and Nick watch him on their monitors and snicker. If the Ghost Adventures crew were The Three Stooges, Aaron would be Curly. He has a charisma that goes beyond playing third fiddle on a reality television show. As tremendously entertaining as he is on the show, you just know the man is ten times as such off camera. He is definitely a guy with whom you wish you were friends. He also makes the best scared face in existence.

Aaron Goodwin.
Whipping Boy. Lovable. Curly.

The three men make for enormous entertainment - and the show is both intentionally and unintentionally funny. When each of them encounters something unexplainable, they are sure to shout, "Dude!", "Man!", or "Bro!" In one specific episode, Nick feels a cold burst pass through him, and he holds up his hands in surrender and shouts, "Whoa, dude!" It comes so close to bordering on self-parody that you have to wonder how aware the Ghost Adventure guys are of their own legacy.

While most of the intentional humor comes from Aaron, Zak manages to climb out from under his haze of self-serious theatre-delivery dialogue and make an occasional joke. Especially entertaining is when he demands a spirit to produce a sign of its presence, and when it does, he shrieks and hops out of the room in terror.

Because the investigations are shot entirely in full dark, there are many scenes of our hosts literally poking each other in the eye, walking into doors, stepping in puddles, and bonking their heads against something. They really, truly are The Three Stooges. But the real humor comes when the investigation begins...

The episodes are structured much like any other ghost hunting show: first, the story of the location; second, the eyewitness accounts; third, the plan; and then fourth, the investigation - your bread and butter of the episodes. This allows for Zak to practice his technique of literally pissing off the ghosts so that they will perform for him. And while this is essentially him wandering around empty rooms and demanding the entities make their presence known, the commands he delivers are often improvised (which at least lends credence to the notion that this show is definitely not scripted, and if it is, the guys are terrible at remembering their lines). They all literally stumble through phrases that are meant to incite a response from whatever entities may be around them, but instead, their output sounds awkward and instantly amusing. In the Scotland Edinburgh Vaults episode, a place in which the entities allegedly target pregnant women, Nick wanders around with his digital recorder and stutters, "Is it true... that you hate... pregnant... woman?" In the Ohio Reformatory episode, Aaron sits in the middle of the prison showers where one prisoner was once "gang-raped" to death. In an effort to reach out to the dead prisoner's spirit, Aaron states, "I'm sorry about how you were killed. That was a lousy thing for them to done." He then goes on to add, "No one should die naked."

The best line-flubs come from Zak, because he speaks with immense authority. He reaches Will Ferrell levels of unearned arrogance with some of the broken phrases he spits out. I wish I had an example for you, but they are just too numerous; however, there is one quirk of Zak's about which I can be specific, and one I find tremendously entertaining: his habit of going off on mini-tirades after having just witnessed something spooky, but then screaming at his counterparts to shut up the minute they open their mouths.
ZAK: Did you hear that? Did you hear that? I just heard something down that hallway! I swear, dudes, I heard it! I heard it!
AARON: I heard--
It's something that never fails to bring me joy.


Nine times out of ten (like any other ghost hunting show), the evidence the guys enthusiastically collect is not terribly interesting and is very inkblot-ish in nature. They'll record an EVP that they translate to be "I hate you" but in reality sounds like "...feh..." And while interviewees will describe eerie sightings of full-body entities in historical dress floating down hallways and beckoning to them; phantom dogs and children; the smell of nonexistent foods or perfumes; and the sounds of ghostly flute music or entire country songs, the evidence the guys collect with their arsenal of cameras never manage to reach these impressive levels. At most they capture garbled audio, wisps of something passing in front of the camera, or lights way off in the distance. They also show their arms to the camera so we can see their goosebumps or hair standing on end, something they attribute to the presence of spirits (but can also happen when your favorite song comes on the radio, or during Bill Pullman's riveting Independence Day monologue). Yes, in terms of evidence, the guys have never really caught something that is both entirely unexplainable and knock-your-socks-off insane (the thrown brick from their original documentary notwithstanding - I find that extremely suspicious).

But then in a complete 180, the guys will make some pretty outrageous claims: that they used the services of a witch to call forth a succubus (incubus? succubus? incubus?); that each of them have received scratches from angry spirits; that they used a voodoo priestess named Bloody Mary to call for spirits of slaves long dead; that both Zak and Nick were "possessed" at certain points during season two (the latter making what a friend has termed "the angry Facebook photo face").

And this is where I have issues with the show. As I stated earlier, I do not believe in ghosts, but I do believe their existence is a possibility. I want to watch a show like Ghost Adventures, or any of the other shows, and think, "This could be real." When the guys claim possession, or that voodoo and witchcraft calls forth spirits or demons at their own whim, or that ghosts of cowboys and prostitutes are fucking in an unseen netherworld - sorry guys, you've lost me.That's when the show strays into bullshit territory.

All of this makes me sound like I am picking on the guys - especially Zak - and the show itself, but that's really not my intention. I heart all three of these fellows, and I hope they never stop doing what they do. Their show has brought me immense entertainment - whether intentional or not - and I would never change a single thing about their investigations. Exaggerated - or even downright fake - the show is too entertaining to dismiss.

The show has many fans (1.7 million on Facebook), and they range from the casual, to the dedicated, to the fucking horrifying. Despite the subject matter of the show - ghosts, bloody murders, institutional abuse, child death - there is still one thing truly scarier than all of that put together, but yet still directly associated with Zak Bagans himself:

Fan fiction.

Yes, because of Zak's rippling muscles and shellacked hair, he has become a god amongst the Twilight teen crowd. Girls (and most assuredly some boys) dream of Zak holding them tightly in the night and protecting them from ghosts, all the while pointing directly into their faces and shouting that the kissing about to go down will be the MOST. EXTREME. KISSING. EVER.


This little bit, stolen from an online journal entitled "Zak Bagans - In the Flesh" gives me an extra dose of the willies:

“uuuuhhhhh” zak grunted as we both came.

an hour later we were cleaned up and sitting on the beach together.

“are you happy” zak asked.

“of course, more than ever” i smiled.

“me too babe” he said kissing me.

i apologize for how short the story is. i just got my daughter a puppy, and its been a lot of work, please forgive me, i promise you all i will post tomorrow and it will be a full chapter.

I take great solace in the fact that somewhere out there, our three beloved frat brothers are wandering around an abandoned silo with flashlights, demanding in authoritative voices that the hiding ghost materialize in front of when it does, they can shriek in the night and run for safety - tripping, falling, and saying, "why I oughta...."

Enter the world of Ghost Adventures. Your life will be all the better for it.