The Stuff Of Roving Nightmares

The flailing arms...the evil grimace...the bloated contours.

When I saw that awful Rappin' Karl clip all over the Intertubes (and, horrifyingly, on my own television) this week, I kept sensing this frisson of déjà vu. I knew I'd come across that creature before. Somewhere.

It was Son Three who helped me connect the blobs, so to speak, when he asked to watch Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas for the umpteenth time last night. I pulled the DVD from its threadbare box, slipped it into the machine, and continued with my busywork, humming along to Danny Elfman's fabulous soundtrack.

And then: Eureka!



Oh, brother, you're something--
You put me in a spin;
You aren't comprehending
The position that you're in.
It's hopeless, you're finished,
You haven't got a prayer--
'Cause I'm Mr. Oogie Boogie
And you ain't going nowhere!

Also at litbrit.


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