A Quote by Brendan I. Koerner
Back in the NBA's pre-mask era, ballers with busted noses or orbital bones had two unappealing options: Sit out and heal, or strap on a Michael Myers-looking opaque face shield closely related to that worn by hockey goalies.
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Actually, the most difficult time I had was not in the mask. The first time you see 'Michael Myers', he doesn't have his mask yet, and he's jumping onto the back of a car. from the insane asylum.
My favorite scary movie was always 'Halloween.' I love that there's hidden emotion underneath Michael Myers' psychotic behavior. Plus, he has the best mask, hands-down.
At the end of the first Halloween, when I shot 6 bullets into Michael Myers, John Carpenter said, Let's get a shot of you looking out of the window and seeing no one lying there.
Once I found out that track and field was an organized sport, the era I followed more closely was that of Maurice Greene and Michael Johnson.
Life is but a mask worn on the face of death. And is death, then, but another mask? 'How many can say,' asks the Aztec poet, 'that there is, or is not, a truth beyond?'
Because the mask is your face, the face is a mask, so I'm thinking of the face as a mask because of the way I see faces is coming from an African vision of the mask which is the thing that we carry around with us, it is our presentation, it's our front, it's our face.
I think that Michael Myers is an icon. The bad guys, it's always the bad guys that everybody loves. It's Michael Myers, it's Freddy, it's Jason, they're like the Dracula and Frankenstein of our generation. I think it started a new wave of horror films. They're cult classics and they're something that everybody wants to watch on Halloween.
Growing up, I ate, slept and breathed hockey. I got home from school, I shot pucks, played outdoor hockey, road hockey, go home for dinner... Remember this is pre-Internet, barely any video games, I had a Commodore Vic-20. If you weren't doing your homework, you were outside playing hockey, most likely.
I was in the sixth grade and living in Germany, when I was hanging out late with some friends. I turned around, and there's a dude dressed up as Michael Myers following us all the way home. It was the scariest thing ever, and it always reminds me of Halloween. In my mind, I was so young, so I really thought it was Mike Myers following me home.
To make Michael Myers frightening, I had him walk like a man, not a monster.
For me, I've always been intimidated by the computer coming from the era of record industry and record stores and buying records and looking at album covers, waiting in line for records when they came out and then ultimately being successful in a band where we recording pre-computer era.
I thought I would make it (to the NBA). I believed that I would make it. But I had a Plan B. I was going to get my Master's degree at Tulane University had it not worked out. I think the pressure of making it wasn't on me as great as some other players that had no other options. I was going to do something special in life and I wanted to play in the NBA. I had a backup plan but I went full speed ahead with my Plan A.
Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm,
I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms.
You botherin mine? That's when I'm sparkin the nine.
It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was a real mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was but one mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed and changed into itself over and over.
Bones leaned back, studying me. I felt so self-conscious. If only I had a shield of makeup, some perfectly arranged hair... and oh yeah. Some panties.
Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn’t a mask, it couldn’t be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn’t a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher’s knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream. And her head.
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