???? halloween & Brian Regan ???? - Video

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**happy mcstabby halloween, ya cunts ????**
hope yours was swell. i’m still wearing my mermaid spandex. mer-*MAN*.

commando, yo. don’t knock it till you try it.

halloween’s cool — some years we go big. this time, besides outdoing last year’s [lawn-float (front yard decorations)](https://youtube.com/shorts/YLXGxnCC2jM?si=fcYqai1341prTfV7) early in the month, our couple energy was leaning chill. more low-key, less spectacle.

clocked out right at eight hours — WEEKEND = INITIATED. tried doing a “speed-producing // halloween-type thing.” honestly, just practice. taking notes on my flaws. our event didn’t start till 8, and after the soul-numbing day i’d just escaped, i had zero interest in answering the door for kids. hit a new record though — around 20 trick-or-treaters, which is huge for our street. usually it’s a ghost town. i just needed decompression.

rummaging through our costume bin, i found my mothman onesie and thought, yup. that’s the move.

thing felt like wearing a body condom in a sauna, though.

it hit 80°F that day — no way i was going to the film showing in that. switched to yacht-captain mer*man* instead. movie was fuckin’ great. @vlantis would’ve loved it. don’t think it’s streaming anywhere.

so yeah, i’ve been doing post and foley for an upcoming indie feature — supposedly getting international distribution. i’m just happy it’s paid, LOL. the crew threw a little shindig about a mile from our house at this old-ass theater in the hood. nostalgic as hell in all the right ways.

the main feature was an anniversary re-release of *[Monster from Bikini Beach](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1332028/)* — a horror-comedy, low-budget fever dream in the best possible sense. think [Troma](https://www.troma.com/). i doubt TFO (Trash Film Orgy) cares much about social media (honestly? respect. fuck social media. teach me your ways). they’ve got this dedicated, local cult following — whether it’s folks who’ve worked on the films or just diehard weirdos who show up every time, dragging all their friends.

one of my coolest friends took me to my first TFO fest back in the day when i was drunk, young, dumb, and full o’ cum — more than you sterilized zoomers will ever comprehend. pretty sure i only went because i was crushing on one of the bikini girls.

oh, right — throughout the film there are these absurd little interludes: ten-minute montages of relentless, gleeful gore. i’m talking intentionally sloppy, ultra-cheap FX — a giant mutant catfish rising from the river to maul bikini-clad river rats (you can take the boy out of the dual-river city, but…).

watch even two minutes of *Monster from Bikini Beach* and you’ll get it. the people behind it are legends in their own weird way.

and man — it doesn’t happen often anymore, not here, maybe not anywhere, but it felt special sitting in a packed theater where *no one* had their phone out. not a single screen glowing. everyone in costume. everyone present. no one talking crypto or new apps or whatever bullshit distracts us now. just a room full of feral laughter echoing off old plaster.

it was like *Rocky Horror* meets a fever dream. the audience shouting jokes, riffing, cackling like lunatics. it was wild — out-of-body, even.

hard to describe, but for a minute there, i felt connected again — part of something ridiculous and sincere. surreal to think i’ve worked with some of these maniacs now. i’ve been feeling drained lately, but i’ll admit it: halloween 2025 was the best night we’ve had out in a while. maybe it was the edibles. maybe it was the vibe. probably both.

i moved the fuck away from this town as soon as i could, but by my mid-30s, i realized — no matter where you go, it’s all a shithole. sure, the earth’s beautiful. i’ve seen beauty. but try *living* in those beautiful places. go ahead. good luck.

people love to fantasize about living off the grid until they’re actually in it — starving, filming TikToks while pretending they’re not dying.

bottom line? live somewhere that can grow food. if you can’t, hope there’s someone nearby who can, and pray they like to trade. and try to live somewhere that doesn’t get bombed — though that’s mostly luck. most people on this average-ass terrarium are just being tossed around by the same handful of post-ape idiots fighting over chunks of dirt.

galactically speaking, earth’s a cosmically rural dustball — a lonely, irrelevant accident desperate to matter in a universe that’s already moved on.

but hey, it’s our shithole.

and my wifey? she looked fi-ee-i-ee-ine as fuck.


I found my highschool livejournal tonight too. fuckin random: https://prometheusfire.livejournal.com/
Lots of current times parallels.