IMDB Summary: 15 years after murdering his sister on Halloween night 1963, Michael Myers escapes from a mental hospital and...
The only sure thing about luck is that it will change. – Wilson Mizner
I don’t believe in bad luck or curses. I also don’t believe in aliens, psychics, coincidence, or the “lone gunman” theory. To be unlucky just seems so… unfair.
Rock stars die at 27. The Kennedy’s all seem to perish in freak accidents and assassinations. The Red Sox traded The Bambino to The Yankees, starting an 84 year long world series losing streak. What the hell? I have no idea.
Ever heard of The Titanic/Mummy Curse? Apparently the mummified Egyptian Princess of Amen-Ra from 1,500 B.C. was a little more than pissed about being excavated in the 1800’s, so she wreaked deadly havoc on everyone, until eventually she ended up a passenger on The Titanic in 1912 on her way to a New York archeologist. And the “unsinkable” ship met it’s end at the bottom of the Atlantic. Moral: Leave the dead alone.
I will say it seems like some people just live under a dark cloud. Ask Roman Polanski. Or anyone who worked on The Exorcist. From an article about 13 Hollywood Curses: The original (Exorcist) set burned down, a carpenter working on the set cut off his thumb, an assistant cameraman’s baby died, a night watchman passed away, an actor whose character was killed in the movie died in real life and Linda Blair’s lower back was fractured after a riding accident, among others. In total, 9 people connected with the movie died. Moral: Leave The Devil alone.
Be grateful for luck. Pay the thunder no mind – listen to the birds. And don’t hate nobody. – Josephine Baker
Las Vegas: Now there’s a town for the superstitious. Don’t use $50 bills, don’t count your money at the table, don’t cross your legs, no singing. Next time you’re in Vegas, see how many people are wearing red, or if you can find a hotel with a 13th floor.
Actor, icon, and speed racer James Dean bought his silver Porsche 550 Spyder 130 while filming Rebel Without A Cause. It was nicknamed Little Bastard. He and his mechanic Rolf Wutherich were on his way to a race in Salinas, California on Route 46 when he crashed head-on with another car. (Which happened on September 30th, which i just realized is TODAY. O-M-G Spooky.)
Here begins The Curse: Car customizer George Barris bought the wrecked Porsche for $2,500. It slipped off a truck and broke both legs of a mechanic. Troy McHenry died in a 1956 race while driving a car with the Bastard’s engine in it; another racer, William Eschrid, who’s car also had parts from the cursed Porsche, flipped over after the car “locked up” going into a curve. Other calamities ensued. Two tires that were resurrected and sold to a young man blew up and caused an accident. At one point, the car was on a display for auto safety with the CHP and the garage it was stored in burned to the ground. It fell off the display once on a man once and broke his hip; it fell on another man and killed him while he was transporting it.
And where is it now? No one knows. It disappeared in 1960.
A great man’s greatest good luck is to die at the right time. -Eric Hoffer
They say karma’s a bitch. Look at OJ Simpson. Life, the Buddhists and John Lennon believe, is predetermined, according to your actions in this life or in a reincarnation. Me, I’ve had it good: I grew up in L.A., had a fantastic family, and live with my gorgeous Australian boyfriend. I spent a year and a half in San Francisco in the early 90’s working in clubs, getting tattoo’d, and writing. It gave me an open mind. I came back to L.A., worked in more clubs, and wrote some more. I’m just happy now that I live in a time when there’s Pink Floyd, the internet, freedom of expression, and cinnamon ice cream. I must’ve done something right at one point. Moral: Leave karma alone.
You can’t escape it, so be good, friends, and the universe will be good to you. I don’t think you’ll ever get an ace and a king by having a rabbit’s foot in your pocket. Blacks cats are harmless. And that poor kid who veered into oncoming traffic was destined to kill James Dean, on this day, 56 years ago today. And now he’s a legend. So who’s to say what’s so unlucky anyway?
Good night, and good luck. – Edward R Murrow
ABOUT ME
L.A. chick. Writer. Horror fan. Free Spirit. Child of the 70's.