The rain hits against the windshield and the world is cast in an orange industrial glow. Could this seemingly mundane setting unleash a metal monster?
Fittingly i was listening to the Nassau Community College radio's metal show when the news struck: Frank Franzetta had died. Now i know Lena Horne died not a day before, but to anyone who's ever been a slightly to more than slightly dorky adolescent male Franzetta basically painted precisely what your eternally thirteen-year old hear held dearest. Namely barbarians and scantily clad women.
There was something almost elegiac to hearing a grown man sing in his best falsetto about smashing a crystal ball in the light of this man's death. So let's all pop in some Burzum, gnash our our collective teeth and mourn in that way that only a nerd can.
Now, I had a discussion with a friend who tended to disagree. That was chocked up mostly to the fact she was a female and perhaps breasts, dragons and swords did not hold such a high place in her malformed childhood. She had the ill-informed audacity to think that Lena Horne was more pertinent. But i ask you this dear reader: did Lena Horne produce photo-realistic paintings of Conan? I feel as though I can rest my case there.
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