The Horror Movie Darwin Awards # 17: Diane in Jaws 2

Throughout the world, there is a long tradition of self immolation. Buddhist monks have used the practice as the ultimate way of rejecting the importance of the body in favor of the mind. Many warrior cultures use it as an honorable form of suicide, much like seppuku. In India, the controversial practice of widows burning themselves on their husband’s funeral pyre (Sati) has been around for centuries. In modern times, it has become an extreme form of protest, the most famous being Thich Quang Duc, a Vietnamese monk who burned himself in 1963 to protest religious persecution. You probably know him best from the Rage Against The Machine CD cover. Depending on your stance and the motive, this act could be interpreted as either stupid or honorable. Doing it while trying to kill a fish? No matter how you look at it, that’s Darwin Award material.

A popular internet meme in recent years has been to respond to any great evil or threat with “kill it with fire!” Apparently Diane had heard that phrase too many times, because that’s exactly what she tried to do. The problem is, that doesn’t work with something that lives UNDERWATER, genius! Do you really think this is gonna stop Jaws?

He can just dive underwater, put it out, and keep on swimming. You know who can’t do that? You can’t Diane! Ok, let’s back up a moment. Diane’s boat is getting attacked by Jaws. Not an enviable position to be in. She has to think, (I use that term loosely) quickly, so she…pours gas all over herself?

I’m thinking that she was going to pour it on the shark but fell victim to the violent rocking of the besieged boat, but it sure doesn’t look that way. She just picks it up over her head and turns it straight upside down. It doesn’t look accidental at all, but she sure gives us the “I didn’t mean to do that” bit. I mean, she doesn’t even come close to the damn killer fish with the gas, so I’m not really sure how his head caught on fire. Anyway, now that she’s good and flammable, what would be the next logical thing to do?

Whatever your answer was, I’m guessing “use the flare gun” wasn’t it. Using the flare gun would have been a great idea BEFORE you doused yourself and your boat. Why the hell didn’t you go with that in the first place? That might have actually worked. Instead you wait until a spark will light you up like Richard Pryor. So, how did that work out for you?

What the hell? Gas and a flare gun didn’t mix well? Imagine that. You at least killed Jaws though, right? Well, this was less than halfway through the movie, and there were two more sequels, so it looks like that answer is a resounding negative. Basically all you did was barbecue yourself for the shark. Moron flambé. Congratulations Diane, you are today’s winner by virtue of your (A) trying to kill a fish in the water with fire in the first place and (B) going down in a blaze of idiocy in the process. Way to go dumbass!

The Horror Movie Darwin Awards # 25: Ellen Brody in Jaws 4: The Revenge

This one isn’t going to take long. The idiocy of this one doesn’t take a whole lot of explanation. Martin Brody, the hero that put Jaws down, has died. His widow, Ellen, thinks he had a heart attack due to fear of the shark returning. Apparently Jaws has become an 80’s style slasher now, because he starts going after the Brody family specifically.

If you had a huge killer shark that wanted you dead, where would you go? Nebraska? Utah? Kansas? Somewhere, oh, I don’t know, landlocked? You know, a place with no shoreline where a shark can’t get to you? I’ll tell you exactly where I wouldn’t be going…

The freakin’ Bahamas! It’s all beach! What the hell are you thinking? She wants to go convince her son to get a job on land. I do believe if I had Jaws after me, that convincing would be done over the phone. Ellen survives the film, but dammit, she shouldn’t have. That was just plain mind-numbingly stupid. Congratulations Ellen, you are today’s winner by virtue of your failure to grasp even the most rudimentary geography. Way to go dumbass!

30 Day Horror Challenge Strikes Back Day 24: Character that scared you most.

It’s kinda interesting that this is my first 30 Day Horror Challenge Strikes Back post since returning from my vacation in Myrtle Beach, because the character that scared me the most did so many years ago when I was on vacation in Myrtle Beach. Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think? Anyway, said character was probably just about the worst thing a kid could have seen while at the beach. I guarantee you though; I wasn’t the only one whose vacation this character has completely ruined over the years. Not by a long shot.

Before we get to that, let me state that in my life, I can really only remember being scared by a movie three times. I’m not counting when I was three and went to see Return of the Jedi and freaked out when those bastard storm troopers were killing the ewoks. I wasn’t scared, just sad and pissed off, and ready to join the rebellion myself. The only time I remember being scared by a film in my adult life I was 19. That night I drove for an hour to see a limited release screening of The Blair Witch Project. Of course, I felt really stupid three weeks later when it was in every multiplex known to man. This was before the “found footage” movie became an overused cliché, so while I knew it was a fictional movie, it was impressively realistic to me at the time. There was a pretty dense forest behind my house, and my nightly ritual was to go out the back door, go in the woods, and smoke a joi…er…cigarette, before bed. This particular night, I walked into the woods, took one puff, and began to look around. I started getting an uneasy feeling, seeing all the trees and shadows dancing in the moonlight, and I decided I didn’t want to be in the woods that night. I didn’t want to be in the woods for a couple more nights either. That wasn’t a particular character though. In fact, maybe it was just paranoia. I did do a lot of drugs in those days.

The other two instances of horror characters scaring the hell out of me occurred when I was very young. When I was four, my mother, who would never let me watch anything, for some reason let me watch the TV miniseries V: The Final Battle with her. I was fine with the weird lizard people, but for some reason I flipped out when one of the aliens in human form expanded her jaw like a snake to eat a large rodent of some kind. I’ve gone back and watched it since, and the effects are laughable now; but when I was four that was some freaky stuff. That lizard woman pales in comparison to the character that scared me the most though.

It was either 1988 or 1989, I’m not sure. That would make me 8 or 9 years old. Every summer, my family went to Myrtle Beach. My folks knew someone who rented us their condo for the week. They took the bedroom and I slept on the couch. We only had basic cable at our house, so the beach was a rare chance to sneak and watch some HBO or Cinemax once mom and dad had gone to bed. Don’t lie; you all did it too. I waited impatiently for something I wasn’t supposed to see to come on. I might hear some bad language or see some violent stuff. Of course in later years it evolved into an undying quest for boobs. On the first night of this vacation, however, Jaws was on. All I knew was that it was about a shark, and I thought sharks were pretty cool. I then watched in horror as people were eaten and boats were destroyed, and general hell was raised by the gigantic great white.

The next morning, it was time to head to the beach. I faced a choice, get in that ocean or admit that I watched a forbidden flick and get in trouble. Was I going to get in the water? Oh hell no! Every time I approached the surf, I heard that familiar theme song pounding in my brain. Da dum, da dum. I could just see that shark eying my legs from the deep. Da dum, da dum. Every squeal of joy from someone frolicking in the water sounded like the scream of a swimmer being devoured. Da dum, da dum. It took mom three or four days to even get me to go in the pool. Freshwater was still water, and that shark lived in water. Da dum. Da dum. Needless do say, I spent a lot of time building sandcastles that week. I’ve always loved the water. Swimming, boating, just chilling at the beach, whatever. By the time the next year’s vacation rolled around, I was fine again. For that one fateful week, however, that damn shark had me terrified to even stick a toe in. So yeah, Jaws (or Bruce as he is sometimes known) was the character that scared me the most. Thanks Spielberg, you ruined my damn vacation.

One last note, while he scared the hell out of me that week, the Jaws Nintendo game ended up being one of my childhood favorites. In retrospect, it wasn't much of a game, but maybe, just maybe, subconsciously I was conquering my fear by killing an 8 bit Jaws. Hmmm.