Happy National Frankenstein Day! Please Celebrate By Putting On The Ritz.

And not by, you know, reanimating the dead.

“This is Schnitzel, showing the classic dachshund sleeping position known as a donut!,” courtesy of our pal Laura

Happy Weekend!

Today is the birthday of one Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, and, thus, National Frankenstein Day. As you probably know, our girl Mary started writing Frankenstein at the age of 18, after being dared by Lord Byron to write a ghost story, while they were spending the summer at a cottage in Lake Geneva with her then-baby-daddy and future husband, the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, because Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was way the hell cooler than any of us will ever be. I mean, her mom was proto-anarcha-feminist Mary Wollstonecraft, author of A Vindication of the Rights of Women, and her dad was the philosopher William Godwin, so she had little choice in this matter.

Anyway, your present this week is Andy Warhol’s Flesh for Frankenstein, which I actually have not seen since high school (sadly, not in 3D). Like the classic Andy Warhol’s Blood for Dracula, this film stars Udo Kier and is, from what I recall, incredibly fucked up. It also contains the line “To know death, Otto, you have to fuck life in the gall bladder!” — which sounds like a bad time across the board.

Enjoy!

And here, to class it up a little, is the 1910 version of Frankenstein produced by Thomas Edison’s studio.

And here, just because I like it, is Megan Mullally as Elizabeth in the Broadway musical version of Young Frankenstein, singing “Please Don’t Touch Me.”

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