I found this picture on my cellphone, taken at Oktoberfest in Munich this year.

Hello? Could ve maybe have ze eye-contact, Meester Rube?

Despite how hokey and contrived it is, I love Halloween. There's nothing like the chill that runs up your spine when you sit around the campfire with the weenies a-roasting, trading eerie experiences and stories about hooks hanging from car doors.

When I was a kid, I loved watching monster movies.  Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney Jr. and Sr., they all kept me up late into the night every Friday, when Ted Turner's flagship station WTCG sent forth the Friday Night Frights on Channel 17. 

Yep, I loves me a good scary flick, and apparently Osbasso, Mr. HNT Himself, does too.  And, following Osbasso's example, I figured I'd compile an off-the-cuff list of my top 10 favorite all-time scariest monster movies.

Number 10: A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)
Freddy Krueger was a damn fine monster, end of story.  The sequels were ridiculous, but the first 'Nightmare' was an original, violent, perfect-for-high-school-date horrorfest.

Number 9: The Fog (1980)
Adrienne Barbeau, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Janet Leigh of Psycho fame all on one screen: Now that's some lung power.  There's more screaming in this movie than all John Capenter's other movies combined, and for good reason: This is one scary-ass slasher. The Fog is one of those forgotten classics from the great horror wave that the 70s rode out on; great but forgotten murder-fests like Dead and Buried or The Howling.  Definitely worth checking out.

Number 8: Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1965)
Not really your typical horror film, but a white-knuckle piece of Southern Gothic that really gave me the heebie-jeebies when I was a kid.  To me, Bette Davis was always the loony, axe-wielding Charlotte instead of the vamp everyone else knew her as.  And the scene of the murder, the guy with the missing hand, that's pure campfire goodness right there.

Number 7: Jacob's Ladder (1990)
Good old-fashioned devils, demons, zombies, and chicks getting vaginally impaled by giant lizards.  Plus, it's Tim Robbins when he's not being a dick. The creepiest thing about this movie is probably unintentional, however, with Macaulay Culkin doing the weary-eyed man-child Gabe.

Number 6: Halloween (1978)
Still on Number 6, and already we've got two John Carpenter movies.  Halloween was the movie that started the whole Jason / Freddie / Chuckie craptaculousness that dominated the horror scene in the 1980s.  And Michael Meyers could still kick any serial killer's ass this side of Hannibal Lecter.  Which brings us to...

Number 5: Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Although billed as a psychological thriller and not as horror, any movie that can make a grown man sweat with and cover his eyes while watching people get brutally murdered is close enough for government work.  Name one thing that Jason did that was scarier than the Jame Gumb Tuck Dance *Shudder*.  Much as Halloween opened the door for the splatter movies of the 80s, 'Lambs convinced studios that making intelligent psychothrillers like Se7en and Memento could be profitable.

Number 4: The Mummy (1932)
Every other monster film from the so-called Golden Age of the 1930s up to the 1950s  is a steaming, ridiculous pile of shit next to The Mummy.  It's the only good movie that Karloff ever made, Frankenstein be damned.  Looking at Karloff getting his tongue ripped out and embalmed alive makes Lugosi's Dracula look like a Paulie Shore character.  The look on his face as they're applying the last bandages is pure terror and claustrophobic dread.  That movie still gives me nightmares, and welds me to the couch every time I see the opening title.

Number 3: Jaws (1975)
Ah, yes: Steven Spielberg, when he wasn't an ET-loving pussy.  My mom actually took me to see this when I was five years old.  My brother, who was seven, puked when the shark bit Cap'n Quint in half.  Any movie that can make a kid puke has to be high on the list.  This movie still has some of the best performances I've ever seen in a monster flick.  Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfus, and Robert Shaw: Who'd'a thunk it.

Number 2: The Thing (1982)
The third and final James Carpenter entry.  This is one of the best horror movies ever made, and the first one on this list that I bought on DVD.  Creepy crawling heads, jumping blood samples, guys getting body parts bitten off, nightmarish bugs popping out of dogs, and more slime and steamy entrails than a slaughterhouse floor, and you still never know who the bad guy was.  Man, what a ride.

Number 1: Alien (1979)
A slimy little alien chews its way out of John Hurt's stomach, flashes his silver pimp-grill at the astonished crew, and takes off into the airducts.  Monster movie gold. I saw this one at my grandmother's house in 1981, back when she was the only relative I knew who had cable television. When the Hurt threw himself on the table and started screaming, my grandmother covered my eyes so I couldn't see what was happening.  Though it was probably well-intended, the nasty-ass sound effects scared me more than the visuals probably would have.  I imagine this film is way up there on most people's lists, so I'll just leave it at that.  Best Monster Ever.

So, what does your list look like?

A couple of days ago, I was sitting in a bar that I used to consider the worst in the world. It's improved its fortunes of late, and has been overtaken by the current Worst Bar in the World by a large margin. The wait staff has changed a few times, and I believe that's the reason this bar has gotten better. It's not the fact that better people were brought in; the old staff was full of good people, mind you. I'm an optimist, and I believe that people must be corrupted before they can become bad. It's just that high turnover is just about the only way to keep a bar staff honest here in the workers' paradise. Complacence is deadly in the food service.

So, with fresh meat behind the counter and an admirably-patient clientele, fortune seemed to have been smiling of this erstwhile Worst Bar in the World. There was an English couple sitting next to me, reading through a German phrase book to order their drinks. What is the German phrase for a Slippery Nipple, you may ask? Rütschige Brustwarze, actually, but please don't order one, on the off-chance you might actually get it. They were speaking English to each other, and broken German to the barmaid, but everything was getting taken care of in order.

A couple of tables over, two German girls were discussing Great Britain, and the strange habits of its simple, hard-working folk. They were making sweeping generalizations about the Londoners, the Geordies; about their food, drinking habits, work ethic, and literature. I wondered if the two English people in the room, sitting next to me, were picking up any of their conversation, and could set them straight, or simply be amused that they're discussing it with such earnestness.

Having spent a couple of weeks in the States recently, I missed places like that: A watering hole, to be sure, but not a saloon or a meat market. There were clean tables about, and comfortable chairs, and dark corners where you could hide; a place to read, or to write, or tap away on your laptop, or just sit and think for a bit, or just be alone to have some peace of mind. They'd bring you a glass of beer, if you wanted, or leave you be, and no one seemed put out by the fact that you were sitting there watching everything, smiling, observing as it all flowed by.

In short: It was nice.

Sitting in bars, watching humanity go by. Blues music on the speakers, bar staff doing their job, or not. Drinkers sitting in the corner waiting for other drinkers, waiting for inspiration, or maybe just waiting for last call. Indicators, you could call them, annoying little Jiminy Crickets that tell you when you've had enough.

You've got to hand it to humans, they've found a common language that every one can speak. Every civilization that has ever existed has found a way to brew beer. It's probably the only human invention that can claim that. The Aztecs never even figured out the concept of the wheel, but there they were on Saturday night, getting loaded and hitting on barmaids.

I've seen a lot of shit happening in bars across the world. I've met a lot of strange characters, and taken part in that strange subculture that exists between Happy Hour and closing time. I remember sitting in a bar with a buddy back in 2000, knocking back Scotches in a late-night dive in Salzburg. We were killing time before going back to the hotel, having spent the day touring a salt mine, drinking it up, talking smack. An Austrian soldier grabbed me by the shoulder and asked, in German, if I we were Americans. Frank Sinatra was playing on an honest-to-goodness Wurlitzer in the corner, and I told him, likewise in German, we were Americans, and if he'd sit down and have a drink with us, I'd be buying.

He said he didn't speak English, but if I was buying, he'd be more than happy to rattle on and let me translate. Soldiering is a job I respect, so I figured I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. He pulled up a bar stool and sat down, clinking glasses with me and my friend, introducing himself with much effort, hi, how are you, nice to meet you, et cetera. Having exhausted his English, he turned to me, and asked if we were soldiers, too. I said, hey man, do we look like soldiers? Then he shook his head and said, "prepare for war."

Within the next five years, he explained, the world will begin to explode. Austria will close its borders, Germany and France will be overrun by immigrants and descend into civil war, and countries in the Balkans will solidify under evil rulers, and begin attacking their neighbors. Italy will be the first to fall, and its conquerors will take the war to France. Unrest would then continue to the Low Countries, Scandinavia, the Baltic Republics. At which point, Central Europe would be adrift in a sea of starvation and war that America would be slow to rescue them from.

I stared at him, a bit overwhelmed. He was drunk, that much was clear, and I began to wonder just what they taught their solders there in Austria. Then he stood up and said, Amerika ist die letztze Hoffnung, and kissed me, right on the lips. (You know, I wanted to write "but not in a gay way" right after that, but what could be gayer than kissing a dude on the lips in a bar at three in the morning?) Luckily, he sat his glass down on the bar and walked out the door, before it got to that awkward exchanging of telephone numbers and hotel key-cards stage.

My friend sitting next to me, who didn't understand a word, said "what was that all about?" I sat there silent for a moment, then said, "the guy's obviously a Sinatra fan..."

I, Rube, the blogger behind YouBitch!, am known throughout the world as a man of taste. No one is more demanding than I when it comes to what I choose to wear. And believe you me, money is no object when it comes to quality footwear. Therefore, it's a pleasure to present to you, my dear reader(s), the finest piece of footwear that I have ever owned, the Malleo Sprint Ankle Brace.

As you see, these are $172.00 well-spent. While the basic black never goes out of style, the subtle use of turquoise blue in the logo decals (which sadly peeled off the first day I was wearing it) really gives this objet d'art that much-appreciated flair! Whereas other manufacturers might include an embossed logo plate to mark up their own products, the Malleo Sprint identifies itself with quality and design. In fact, the only identifying labels left after initial use were the washing instructions sewn inside the boot, which are translated into near-perfect English right under the proud heading, "Made in China".

In order to keep the price down, Malleo eschewed such niceties as double-stitching, cotton laces, high-quality materials, metal eyelets for the laces, or hard plastic ankle supports. What remains is a sleek, flexible, and sporty ankle brace that bends with you, and will stay tied together for an impressive 15 to 20 minutes at a stretch.

In order to put things into perspective, I'll compare the Malleo Sprint Ankle Brace to the second-most expensive piece of footwear I've ever owned, the CCM Pro Tacks Sr. Ice Hockey Skates.

At $280.00, these pro-level skates have a noticeably lower price than the $344.00 that a pair of Malleo Sprint Ankle Braces would have cost. The Pro Tacks are made in the sweatshops of Ontario, using cheap Canadian labor, in contrast to the fine old-world Chinese craftsmanship of the Malleo product. Although cheaper than the Malleo Sprint, the Tacks do include some features not found in its more expensive counterpart, such as leather uppers, cotton laces, metal eyelets, superior ankle support, Kevlar shielding, and a 4mm high-carbon stainless steel blade that allows the wearer to walk on ice. The skates also provide superior ankle support to the Malleo, but all of this comes at the cost of that Malleo Style.

$172.00 for a fucking ankle brace. What kind of fucking Mafia operation is the German health-care system?!???!? I ought to sic the police on these cocksuckers for insurance fraud. There's getting fucked, and then there's getting FUCKED!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck . Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

>:-(