Five Things That Truly Terrify Me About Halloween

By Jesse Roth

5. There are strange phenomena known as “hell houses.”

Earlier this decade, I happened upon several articles and a rather interesting (and frightening) documentary dealing with a relatively recent Halloweentime event. Inspired by both the creative possibilities and horror potential of the haunted house, as well as their own ultraconservative evangelical beliefs, several churches across the southern United States were inviting the public to tour their “hell houses.” For a nominal fee (or sometimes for free), tour goers could navigate an otherwise typical but intricately decorated haunted house that substitutes ghouls and chainsaw assassins for graphic depictions of both biblical and modern “sin” (adultery, abortion, etc.). At the end of this joyride, members of the sponsoring church would invite members to absolve their various sins by committing their lives to Jeebus, and maybe some gratis candy and cider.
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Still Tuning In After All These Years: Why I Love Radio

By Jesse Roth

On an otherwise normal Sunday night a couple months back, I found myself sitting alone in my car, mourning the loss of what can best be described as a fair-weather friend. 94.7 The Globe, a mediocre but mostly listenable attempt to resurrect the hallowed progressive rock station WHFS , was echoing its long-departed cousin by playing Jeff Buckey’s “Last Goodbye.” Following a minute of dead air, the station would transition to yet another bland adult contemporary wasteland, a now-familiar occurrence on the radio dial.
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Don’t Touch That Dial: TV That Shaped My Musical Tastes

By Jesse Roth

Like many members of my generation (and those of the previous one), I received a decent yet incomplete music education via the radio, MTV, and my parents’ eclectic record collection. By the time I hit high school however, I was quickly seeking new avenues for discovering music.
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“That Library Smell”

By Jesse Roth

Say that to anyone and they will probably give you a puzzled look.
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Licorice Pizza: My History With Vinyl

By Jesse Roth

It was an otherwise forgettable commercial for some product or service that was of no use to a middle school kid like me. Airing several times during evening broadcasts in the mid-1990s, it featured several scenes of children around my age with a voiceover expounding on the values and traits of this new generation—the one later to be known by the rather uninspired label “Generation Y.” One scene in particular showed a young girl leaning against the window on a school bus listening to a Walkman. The image was rather innocent but was coupled with the following line:

“They’ve never owned a record”
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Television Verité: Degrassi High

By Jesse Roth

A few years ago, I found myself home during a break from college happily engaging in my two of my favorite pastimes: grazing in the kitchen while watching way too much TV. I used this particular break to become re-acquainted with the television shows that I adored in my childhood; ones that had recently made their way into the lineup on a digital cable channel then known as Noggin. As part of their block of evening and late-night programming (known as “The N”), the channel showcased my personal favorites such as Clarissa Explains It All and The Adventures of Pete and Pete. Later hours were devoted to even older classics such as The Electric Company, a show that predated my childhood (and thus my nostalgia radar) by at least a decade. Nonetheless, I now had the chance to watch and find out what I had missed out on by being born too late.
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Don’t Hate the Cannibal, Hate the Game: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

By Jesse Roth

Looking back on my movie-viewing history, I can think of few films that have really bothered me. Most of the time, unless an animal dies or there is excessive torture, I won’t even flinch. Murder and cruelty can pass before my eyes and be acknowledged the same way as a car chase or moment of truly exceptional dialogue between two characters: interesting, but certainly nothing that impacts me on a deep, emotional level.
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