#Glen Wood

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

It all started at a NASCAR race at Darlington, when Ford approached Glen Wood and asked him if he’d help out with the effort in the 500. Wood was taken aback by a request from Ford Motor Company to have the team from the remote Virginia foothills, with no open-wheel racing experience, be a part of the Indianapolis 500. Glen said his initial response: “Are you kidding?”

Leaving no stone unturned and recognizing the opportunity to use lightning-quick pit stops to their advantage, the Ford folks weren’t kidding, and being as loyal to the Blue Oval as they were, Glen and Leonard were off to Indy. After building a relationship with a group of racers they’d never met, the Woods set to work on the fueling system they’d use on race day. Working with Ford engineers the race team had developed a fuel tank that had a giant venturi inside. The principle was simple, and time-proven. It’s the same device that allows fuel and air to flow quickly through a carburetor and makes airplanes fly. The Woods knew it would work.

The Woods also prepared for tire changes during the race, sanding and filing on the wheels and hubs and practicing tire swaps. But that tire work turned out to be unnecessary, as Clark ran the entire 500 on the same set of tires -- an impressive feat in and of itself. Nevertheless, the lasting contribution of the team from the remote Virginia foothills that Ford invited to Indianapolis is the art of today’s seconds-long pit stops and the tactical advantage they provide.

[thebohemianloner]

summer hiking in Jim Thorpe, PA 🌞🌲

[atomic-raunch]

Ed Wood, Dolores Fuller, and The Devil

[citizenscreen]

From GLEN OR GLENDA (1953) directed, written by, and starring Ed Wood: Wood, Bela Lugosi, Dolores Fuller.

[asmileworthahundredlies]

Zippin' up my boots. Going back to my roots… ♫

[batemanofficial]

i cannot believe people actually find glen powell attractive. he's just so bland to me. he's like if you put chace crawford through like 8 rounds of bland white guy AI photo sharpening. i look at that man and i feel nothing. he's like the celebrity equivalent of béchamel sauce. i firmly believe he was created in a lab to be a human content farm à la sev'ral timez

[kiteknots]

Rouken Glen // Glasgow

[kodachrome-net]

Winter scene, Forest Glen Woods, Chicago, January 6, 2024

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Dolores Fuller and Ed Wood - Glen or Glenda (1953)

[ratlordsarah]

unhinged aah history dream I had last night

for some reason, in this dream, I was a 34 year old man living in Ancient Greece named Wallis with a jet black beard and some muscular aah legs, and I had a ginger haired brother named Cornelius (he looked like if amazing rope guy had a glow up)

and basically, I disowned Cornelius for being to annoying when I was 15 in the dream , and we were no longer on speaking terms for some reason, and we had the most Disney ending ever, it was like near the ending of encato where Bruno meets his ma again or something idk 💀

but we worked this job where we had to scavenger for wood planks and rocks in the city states Sparta, Athens, and Troy, in which the boss was a buff version of both Robert tubing from wordgirl and William dafoe 😭

half way through the dream, Tim, tj, and sally botford, as well as dr two brains, glen furlblam, Timmy timbo, the coach, and Chazz from word girl were in California as a meet up, to go visit Ancient Greece. As I am now in the pov of dr two brains, we travel to New Orleans from a magical flat escalator or something, and then we take a several day trip (walking on foot)to Canada , and on the way there, we had to share a single hotel room for some reason

after several days in the dream world, we make it to Canada, where there is a magical portal that takes us back to Ancient Greece, and we hop in.

as we are now in Ancient Greece, dr two brains sees Steven boxleitner, and they have one of those old western stand offs, accept apparently, d2b has schizophrenia in the dream, so you see both in dr two brain’s pov and Sally’s pov where dr two brains is saying “this town ain’t big enough for the both of us” in a southern accent, while gripping a revolver, talking to absolutely no one

anyways, two brains’s hallucination goes away, and he placed a magical box in the middle of Greece, that does nothing, and nothing happens, but anyone who hears about it or comes across it has to put in a passcode for no reason.

I am back into the pov of Wallis again, and I refuse to put in a passcode to see what happens, and dr two brains is screaming “AAAAAAHAGH THERE ARE RATS IN MY BRAIN AAAHAHAG” in which he is being dragged away like a toddler by sally, and Timmy timbo is only speaking Hebrew now, and he is striking up conversations at random Greek people in Hebrew. anyways, the travelers leave, and about 6 months pass by before the Romans take over, and we die for some reason. Also, the Roman’s were literally just a bunch of will woods marching in unison with the helmets and armor on (the Roman will wood army had a New Zealand accent for some reason)

I was so confused when I woke up, because I was genuinely convinced that I was this middle aged Greek guy that was getting conquered by the Romans for a solid 5 minutes 💀

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Ed Wood (1994, Tim Burton)

12/07/2024

[numnum-num]

"Glen or Glenda" by Ed Wood (Edward D. Wood, jr), 1953, movie poster from 1978

[silvershewolf247]

Hypocrisy

Part 1 Here

Glen had stood in between their fair share of arguments. Their mother had always been good at picking them. Whether it be with other parents at their private schools, maids who had stepped out of line, the show director of that terrible sitcom Glen and Glenda were in, or Glenda when they shaved half their head. But this was different. They had always thought their mother would never act on her anger. Of course, they had been wrong, and were realizing that the disappearances of the show director, three teachers, two members of the PTA, two maids, and their nanny Fulvia, may not have been coincidences. But that's what they knew then.

What they know now; Andy would. This man had, according to their father, tried to kill himself nine times, just to spite him. Set him on fire at age six, boiled him alive at age eight, shot him twice and threw him into an industrial fan at sixteen, and used him as a dammit doll for three and a half years. So Glen had no fucking idea where they got the confidence to stand between them. 

“Please…” Glen begged, Andy didn’t turn away from Chucky, just shifted his eyes to Glen. Glen swallowed.

“I…” Glen stammered. They struggled to come up with any good reason Andy should show their father mercy.

“I spent hours working on this.” Glen wondered if that was really the best they could come up with. Andy pushed Glen aside. Glen tried to hold firm, but it just resulted in them falling back and tripping over and onto the couch. Andy pulled their father’s knife out of the coat pocket. Glen was scared, but their father seemed unfazed. Andy moved closer. He stood over Chucky for what felt like an eternity to Glen. 

“Really?” Chucky asked, there was mockery behind his words. He looked up at Andy. Andy looked down at him confused and apprehensive. 

“Why not?” Andy responded. His voice was quiet, breathy, and filled with vitriol. 

“What has happened every time you have tried to hurt me in the past year,” Chucky said. Andy paused.

“I’ll still get to hurt you,” Andy replied. 

“Will you?” Chucky responded. Andy was silent as Chucky walked closer. 

“And will it be worth it,” Chucky continued. 

“What do you mean?” Andy asked.

“Well you seem like you could use a nice night in. And if I’m in charge, we both know you’re not gonna get that” Chucky said, laughing. 

Andy desperately clutched the knife, while Chucky put out his hand. 

“Now knock it off, and give me back my fucking knife,” Chucky said. Andy stood over him, taking quick, insubstantial breaths. When Andy hesitated, Chucky smiled and cocked his head. Andy dropped the knife to the floor and walked past him and into the kitchen. Glen and Chucky could both hear cabinets opening and bottles clinking.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Chucky yelled to the other room. 

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing, I’m getting a drink,” Andy yelled back.

“I never said you could have my liquor,” Chucky yelled, indignant. 

“Fuck you!” Andy screamed back. Chucky and Glen walked into the kitchen. 

“Anyway, I already know where it is,”Andy said as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and smiled at the two of them. Then he took out a glass and started pouring. Chucky looked at him and took a seat at the island. 

“Pour me a glass while you're up,” Chucky asked. 

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Andy asked, still angry. 

“Well, why would I want to stay in on a Friday night, if my best friend’s going to be rude?” Chucky asked. He cocked his head and smirked. Andy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before sliding the glass over across the island and over to Chucky. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Chucky mocked. He smiled and took a sip. Andy drank from the bottle.  

“Don’t drink from the bottle if you’re not gonna finish it,” Chucky responded. Andy held up a finger, telling Chucky to wait a second, as he kept drinking. It took a moment and a half, but he finally put down the bottle. 

“Who said I wasn’t gonna finish it,” Andy asked as he sat down opposite Chucky. Glen quickly realized everyone was sitting down, so they grabbed a chair and sat on the side of the island between them. 

“That’s some strong stuff sport, lotta alcohol for a little guy,” Chucky responded. 

“Scared of a little liver damage, Chucky,” Andy said, before taking another long chug. Chucky rolled his eyes and took another sip. 

“You should really slow down, savor the taste,” Chucky responded. Andy finished his second chug. 

“The taste isn’t why I’m drinking it,” Andy responded, before taking another chug.

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have picked my five hundred dollar whiskey,” Chucky said. 

“Oh poor you, am I wasting the money you stole off one of your victims,” Andy responded, taking another drink. 

“Technically speaking. We stole the money. Off of our victim,” Chucky said. Andy slammed the bottle onto the table. Glen flinched at the noise. The three of them sat in awkward silence. 

“Okay,” Glen was the first to break the silence. “This is the first time I've seen you two interact,” they continued. There was another pause. 

“And can I just say… I’m not loving the energy,” Glen said, speaking in a patronizing, high pitched, half whisper. 

“So let’s all calm down, we can talk, and I’m sure find some middle ground and friendly reconciliation,” Glen finished. They looked proud of themself. Andy looked over at Glen.

“Glen,” Andy said. 

“Yes,” Glen responded. 

“Shut up,” Andy finished.

“Okay,” Glen responded quietly, and folded into themself.   

“Hey, don’t tell my kid to shut up,” Chucky responded, finally getting a bit angry and giving Andy the negative reaction he had been looking for.

“Then tell your fucking kid they shouldn’t be chiming in on shit they don’t know anything about,” Andy continued, getting more frustrated.

“It’s not their fault they haven’t been told what happened,” Chucky was on the verge of yelling.  

“Do you want to tell them,” Andy responded. Chucky was silent for a second. Then he sucked a breath in through his teeth and sighed. 

“I’d really prefer not to,” he responded, much softer. 

“Hey, can we stop talking about me like I’m not here. What’s going on?” Glen asked. Andy and Chucky were silent. Chucky looked at Andy who was smiling for once. 

“Oh please, do tell. I won’t interrupt. I want to hear how you explain this to make yourself father of the year,” Andy said, he chuckled a bit and took another drink. 

“Well… I was taking care of some important business at the school nearby,” Chucky said. Andy stopped drinking. 

“He was flirting with a nun, who’s convinced he’s the Son of Man,” Andy corrected. Glen looked unsettled and confused. 

“What?” Glen asked. 

“It’s so much worse experiencing it in first person,” Andy said.

“So I was talking to Mixter and her associate in the old chapel,” Chucky continued, ignoring the interruption. 

“And much to my disappointment, he didn’t burst into flames,” Andy interjected. 

“Are you telling the story or am I,” Chucky replied, a little indignant. Andy rolled his eyes and took another drink.

“And unfortunately, someone else happened to be there, and she heard us, and she saw us, and I didn’t wanna deal with the drama, you understand,” Chucky said. 

“Not really,” Glen responded. 

“He killed her,” Andy said. Glen looked at their father with big sad eyes. And Chucky looked for a way to spin this. 

“Snapped her neck like a twig,” Andy continued, happy to make Chucky’s life harder.

“Okay, ya little fucking liar. Firstly, if you can’t keep your mouth shut, don’t say you’re not gonna interrupt. Secondly, we killed her” Chucky said. 

“Fuck you” Andy said. He was quieter, looking down at the bottle in his hand. Glen could see a tremor running through him. He swallowed, Glen only had a second to wonder what Andy was thinking, 

“Lightweight,” Chucky said. Andy put down the bottle and swallowed again, trying to keep that half a bottle of whiskey down. Andy closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re acting all upset. I know you’re used to this by now,” Chucky continued.

“You killed a child,” Andy responded, his tone was tired, he didn’t move or look at Chucky.

“What” Glen responded in horror. 

“She was a teenager,” Chucky defended. Andy put his head in his hands and grabbed at his hair,

“She was 12,” Andy said, his voice muffled and defeated. He still wasn’t looking at Chucky.

“She was at least 16,” Chucky defended. 

“That’s still a child!” Andy said, finally looking up at Chucky. Chucky rolled his eyes. Glen just sat there taking in what they had heard. 

“How could you?” Glen said, there was horror and anger in their voice. “Why would you?” Chucky was quiet in the face of Glen’s questioning. Glen started to get angrier.

“Why do you have to ruin every nice moment we could have?” Glen asked. Chucky took another breath.

“Why are you acting surprised, you know what I’m about,” Chucky said, as he took another drink.

“Why are you such a terrible father?” Glen continued, angry at their father’s blasé response. 

“Why are you such a fucking hypocrite!” Chucky said, Glen flinched a little at his anger. But they kept their head high

“I would never kill someone,” Glen responded. 

“There’s a partially melted corpse that disagrees with that,” Chucky responded. Glen got quiet. There was a pause as Glen took in that information. 

“Did I set a lady on fire?” Glen asked.

“What no,” Chucky said. He sounded confused. Glen let out a relieved breath. 

“That was Glenda,” Chucky continued. Glen took the information in, they weren’t happy, but they weren’t surprised. 

“You melted a guy with acid,” Chucky continued. “I still have the picture if you wanna see. I know it’s somewhere around here,” he finished, then looking around the room. 

“What?” Glen asked, their voice had gotten smaller than usual.

“Yeah, it was fucking amazing,” Chucky said and patted Glen’s back. 

“I killed a man,” Glen said, breathlessly. They had a thousand yard stare. 

“I mean, he was a member of the paparazzi, not much of a man if you ask me,” Chucky said. There was another pause as Glen stared into the distance. 

“Don’t feel too bad, you’re nowhere near as bad as him” Chucky said, pointing at Andy. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Andy asked.  

“I mean if we’re talking hypocrisy here, my little killer’s got nothing on you,” Chucky said, patting Glen’s back. Glen broke out into tears and hid their head on the table in their arms. Andy didn’t respond. He looked at Chucky, trying to figure out what Chucky met. Chucky interrupted before he could. 

“You and little Mx. Sanctimonious over here both like to pretend you’re so much better than me. But, at least Glen is mostly consistent. As far as I can tell, ninety percent of the time they are as much a goody two shoes as they claim,” Chucky said

“How do you know the word sanctimonious?” Andy asked. Chucky ignored him. 

“But you, I know what you are,” Chucky continued. 

“Seriously though, when did you learn that word,” Andy asked, ignoring his attempts to dissect him. 

“I know you better than anyone else, I lived with you for, what, three and a half years, surrounded by murder trophies,” Chucky continued.  

“Hunting animals isn’t murder,” Andy responded. 

“You’re right, it’s your pathetic attempt to replace it,” Chucky said. 

“That’s not why I hunt,” Andy said. 

“Then why do you?,” Chucky asked. Andy didn’t have an answer. “And why do you collect weapons? And why did you spend three years torturing someone? And why are you so alone? And so different from everyone else?” Chucky asked. Andy was silent. 

“You wanna know what I think?” Chucky asked.

“Not particularly,” Andy answered. Chucky just smiled. 

“I think when you watched your auntie die, when you helped me kill Eddie, when you watched me kill your doctor, and when you set me ablaze. You noticed something wrong inside of you, maybe it was something I gave to you, or maybe it was always there, just waiting for me to wake it up. Either way, it’s there, and it made you feel something. Excitement, power, the pure unbridled…” Chucky looked for a word. 

“Fun, of taking someone’s life,” Chucky finished.

“I don’t kill people,” Andy said. 

“Aside from me… and Nica if you had reloaded,” Chucky said. 

“You tried to kill Nica,” Glen replied, broken out of their hysterical sobbing by shock. 

“I didn’t want to do that,” Andy said. 

“Ya didn’t hesitate. You shot right through a hostage” Chucky replied. Andy was quiet again. A shame he had been trying to suffocate started rearing its ugly head. 

“Speaking of Nica, when I first used her to kill someone, she cried,” Chucky continued,

“You didn’t.” 

“There’s a lot of things you didn’t do,” Chucky said. 

“I mean, you had twenty years to build a life without me. And you didn’t. You didn’t find a career. Or a family. Or friends. You didn’t even live around people. Most people would have done all of those things. But not you.” 

“Because despite everything, I made you into something better. And you’ve been too scared to admit it.” Chucky continued. Andy was digging his nails into his palms and struggling to breath.

“So you just hid yourself away from the world in your little cabin, and you ignored my voice in your head telling you what would make you happy. And you came up with alternatives that didn’t satisfy you. Admit it Andy, that’s why you don’t let yourself fall asleep like Nica. Because now that you’re killing, you’re enjoying yourself for the first time in years” Chucky said.

“You’re the one doing that, not me,” Andy said, not even convincing himself.

“All I’ve done is push you into someone you were always meant to be. And honestly, I’m proud of you” Chucky said. Andy grabbed the bottle again and looked down at it. He still couldn’t stomach another drink. 

“Face it Andy, there’s a reason I kept coming back for you,” Chucky said. Andy stood up. His chair scraped back. Chucky ignored him.

“Because you’re fucking perfect for me” Chucky finished. Andy chucked the half bottle at Chucky, who moved out of the way and let it hit the cabinets and spill onto the floor. 

“If you’re gonna waste my liquor, I’m not gonna let you have it,” Chucky responded. Andy stood there, angry, scared, and taking shallow breaths. 

“Glen could you be a dear and clean that up,” Chucky asked. Glen went to grab some paper towels. 

“Come on, don’t clean it up,” Andy said. defeated and disappointed, as he sank back down into the chair, buried his head in his arms.

[atomic-raunch]

Dolores Fuller and Ed Wood in Glen or Glenda

[churchofsatannews]

Ed Wood Historical Marker Unveiled!

On Wednesday, October 20th, several Church of Satan hierarchy members attended the unveiling of a new historical marker in front of one of Ed Wood‘s childhood homes at 35 Delano Street, Poughkeepsie, New York. Film scholars and local government officials were present, who lauded Wood’s work, offering words in tribute to the fascinating film maker. Wood was born in this town on October 10, 1924,…

[asmileworthahundredlies]

The essence of my hopes and fears.

Creation of my muddled dreams.

Cowboy style… ♫