By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
By Michael Roberts
By Melanie Asmar
No matter how scary this Halloween becomes, it can't be as frightening as the vision of Halloween 1995 conjured up by Suzanne Galante, at the time a 22-year-old Channel 7 intern. At a party at a house in Boulder, she fell upon a longtime fantasy: a fellow with "peach-fuzzy sideburns," dressed in a "suggestively unsnapped blue plaid flannel shirt." It was Bo, from the Dukes of Hazzard, "and I just knew that I had to pursue him," Galante wrote last month in a San Francisco weekly. "It's not often that we get to consummate our lust for celebrated TV characters."
No kidding. Because the fellow masquerading as Bo Duke five years ago turns out to be then-nineteen-year-old Greg Buis, who went on to fame and fortune as a cast member of Survivor.You know, the Gold Hill resident who used a coconut for a cell phone and was reportedly the stinkiest fellow on the island. Although Galante mades no mention of his odor, she did comment on her dismay at both the fakeness of the Bo chest hair and Buis's "lack of experience." After that much-televised fling with Coleen, though, experience may no longer be a problem. "I'll bet there are girls lusting after Greg the way I lusted after Bo," Galante mused. "It's strange how things work out sometimes."
Strange, indeed. While Galante was intrigued by the Bo costume, there's no explaining what drew Buis to her, since she was dressed that night as a stalk of celery.
Thespians and lesbians: Just in time for Halloween, Colorado's left wing wants you to know that the radical religious right isn't the only group that can dress up in costumes, talk about gory stuff and stage badly acted skits.
In an effort to counter Hell House -- the annual fright-for-life haunted house run by the Abundant Life Christian Center in Arvada -- a radical new abortion-rights group plans to put on three productions of Abortion's Silenced Legacy, a drama designed to dispel the myths about illegal abortion, says Peggy Loonan, founder of Life and Liberty for Women. Legacywill feature three people: a doctor who performed abortions before and after Roe vs. Wade; a woman who had a pre-Roe abortion; and a woman from the year 2010 talking about a fictitious law called the Human Life Amendment, which makes abortion illegal again. The play also takes on Amendment 25, a truly spooky ballot measure that would require doctors to publicly report specific information about the abortions they perform.
Two of the performances take place at churches that are part of the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice (RCRC) -- the First Universalist Church in Denver on October 25, and the All Souls Unitarian Church in Colorado Springs on October 27 -- with another performance October 26 at Colorado State University in Fort Collins.
Meanwhile, Hell House 2000, which will be staged October 20-22 and 25-31, includes skits about a lesbian suicide, a teen drinking party that ends in a fatal car wreck (candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker), and a mother who decides she no longer wants her teenage son and takes him to a clinic to have him shot. The seven-scene "journey" is supposed to depict Hell and "the destruction that Satan and this world can bestow on those who choose to not serve Jesus Christ," according to church literature.
"I think they certainly don't depict the reality of the situation," Loonan says of Hell House's abortion skit. "The Hell Houses to me are one depiction that they've gotten away with without anyone standing up and saying, 'Excuse me, but there is another side to this.'" Like Hell House, Legacy will feature some gory stuff -- but Life and Liberty for Women plan to limit it to pictures and the doctor character talking about pouring turpentine into a woman's uterus when he had to perform illegal abortions. "None of these are as far-fetched as the Hell House skit," Loonan says.
Trick or treat.
Kenny, come home: Former University of Colorado film students Trey Parkerand Matt Stone made their fame and fortune not by producing amateur skits but by lampooning Parker's childhood home of Conifer in their wildly popular and successful South Park animated series. (They also produced three feature films.) But the two haven't displayed much gratitude to their home state for providing inspiration: The June 2000 issue of Playboy, for instance, quoted Parker saying he hadn't been back here for over a year. "Colorado is so average," he continued. "It's in the middle of the country, middle income, everyone's middle. It's so desperately average that it just makes people insane. And rather than embrace us because we grew up there and we're doing a show about Colorado, the media there take every chance they can to rip us."
Given that sentiment, it's understandable that CU -- where Parker and Stone made their first movie, a musical about the life of Alfred Packer, Colorado's most famous cannibal -- was a little nervous about asking the duo for some of their newly acquired cash.
But Stone, at least, was happy to oblige, donating $20,000 to the film studies department for new animation equipment. According to a source within the department, who knew the Hollywood hipsters when they were just lowly film geeks with funny hair, while donating the big bucks, Stone made of a point of saying that despite the way they feel they've been treated in Colorado, he and Parker do not hate their alma mater.