I'm a bit annoyed with some of you; yes I am.

One of the things that has always been trumpeted proudly about our field of interest (and I'm including Science Fiction and Fantasy as well as Horror in this discussion) is our open-mindedness and willingness to explore other visions and realities than our own. Our imaginations are often encouraged to stretch beyond those of the so-called “mundane” that inhabit the mainstream world. We create special events and opportunities strictly for the fandom; conventions and film festivals and other gatherings where we met those with similar interests in the unusual and extraordinary, and celebrate our unconventionality.

We do this for a number of reasons; social intercourse, networking for our own projects and artistic endeavors, or simply to congregate in a welcoming atmosphere. I believe that the final reason may be one of the most important. Certainly our choice of genre is often looked at in askance by mainstream tastes and critics. Often our interests are dismissed as “childish” or “escapist” ; so-called “junk” literature. (Although I'm often amused by the “escapist” label; as Isaac Asimov once pointed out, many science fiction futures are concerned with totalitarian or dysfunctional societies, or with disturbing social trends postulated to their logical extremes, such as overpopulation, nuclear warfare, economic collapse, and the like. How these dismal settings can be called “escapist” was beyond him, and I agree; I find it difficult to imagine how the most jaded of mainstream cynics can believe an apocalyptic world of flesh eating Undead can be a relaxing way to kill an hour or two…)

Many, if not all of us have experienced the raised eyebrow, the impatient sigh, or the superior smirk when we're told how we enjoyed a recent book or novel in the SF or Horror field. We're condescended to, asking when our tastes will “grow up” or become interested in “serious” literature or film; we're looked at in distrust and dismay, friends asking “how we can like that Horror stuff when there's so much real misery in the world”. You all know the drill, I'm certain; no amount of argument can convince them that we enjoy a worthy art form. It seems unfair that connoisseurs of, say, the Western genre, or the Mystery or Thriller, never seem to have to defend themselves so readily. These days I find myself shaking my head and quoting Mr. Louis Armstrong who, when asked to explain jazz music, said simply, “If you don't understand it, then I can't explain it to you.”

So it causes me great consternation when I read or hear of recent attacks against fans of the genre coming, not from outside our family, but from each other!

The latest instance that has inspired my small diatribe is the current disdain and smarmy comments directed at the TWILIGHT franchise; rhetoric that has stepped up with the release of the latest film ECLIPSE . But these thoughts have been on my mind for some time, hearing fans arguing about the merits of other points in the field, and it seems as though, in keeping with society today, what was once healthy debate and good-natured arguments have degenerated to name-calling, insults and absolute intolerance for the other person's point of view. And, if I may be so bold, as a time-honored practitioner and vocal defender of this beloved subset of literature, I want to sincerely address all the friction and fractions herein and said from my heart: knock it off, will ya'!!

I will be the first to admit that the charms of the TWILIGHT universe escape me. First of all, I am an adult, and the angst and worldviews of a group of teenagers, otherworldly or otherwise, doesn't completely appeal to me. Secondly, the rules of the world as written don't make a great deal of sense to me; I can't for the life of me understand why a 100-year-old vampire would choose a teenage girl as his heart's desire, no matter how old of a soul she may be. I mean, what do they talk about, when they're not gazing mournfully into each other's eyes? (This is a theme that I thought Anne Rice explored very well in “Interview With A Vampire” .) That, and the fact that the apparent audience being targeted is teen and pre-teen ladies, of whom I am not one, lead me to pass on exploring these particular books and films. (I'm also told that the actual prose is somewhat torturous, but as I have not read them myself, I can't comment on that; but these rumors did have the effect of keeping my interest abated.)

And no, I don't believe vampires sparkle, at least not in my experience, my dear Miss Scarlett aside. I'm much more comfortable with the classic bloodsuckers such as NOSFERATU , DRACULA , and the citizens of Mr. King's ‘ SALEM 'S LOT . And because the genre is so large, and can incorporate so many viewpoints, I would likely as not pass this off as “let's agree to disagree” , and be done with it.

But that doesn't seem to be happening. Battle lines are definitely being drawn; editorials and blogs are bleating fiercely about what makes a “true” vampire fan, or a “true” Horror fan: those in one camp are determined to crush the opinions and spirits of those in the opposing, no matter which side of the debate you're on.

This is not a good thing. The world today is remarkably divisive, perhaps more so than any other time in recent memory. Everything, from politics to social reform to arts and entertainment has been reduced to simple contests of strengths, like a game of football, and there must be definite winners and losers. Compromise and seeing the other person's side has become a sign of weakness and folly, and, as in that age-old proverb, it isn't enough that we should triumph as that our enemies should fail.

This is fed constantly by the media and the pundits that work it today. You cannot straddle a fence; you must make a decision and take sides, and that side must be the correct side. We're divided up and played against each other like combatants in a Roman arena, all in the name of ratings or newspapers sales. Our country is even divided into “Red” states and “Blue” states, and heaven help you if your ideology doesn't match with the location you're slotted into.

Now I suppose all this is well and good in the mainstream world; after all, these are the “mundane” (a phrase I despise) and they scurry about trying to make their way through the world as best they can. Why they allow it, I cannot say. But we're supposed to be better than that; we're supposed to be the dreamers and the tolerant and the secret society where we can turn to escape the judgmentalism of the world around us. And as author and critic Harlan Ellison has often noted, the practices of our society don't always match up with our goals. There is a strong conservative streak in fandom that can be as intolerant and abusive as any racist organization during the 1960s civil rights struggle.

And it's simply silly. Kevin Smith, filmmaker and comic fan, gave a now legendary speech at a Comic Con event, and, when confronted with the negative reaction to the TWILIGHT series, said, “That's what I love about a comic book convention. People will come to a convention, stand there in a …Spock costume, and look at somebody in a (Chewbacca) costume, and say, ‘Look at that…geek'!” And he's absolutely right; where do people in Renaissance garb, devil horns, ice-white contacts and Steampunk jewelry have the right and audacity to criticize somebody in a black trenchcoat and pointed teeth?

Time ago…quite a long time ago, when I was still performing with my Patient Creatures at Six Flags America outside Washington DC for Halloween, we would have patrons that would come dressed to the hilt to celebrate the October Season. Many of them would create their own outfits, and we were constantly amazed at the range of the artistry and imagination shown. But every so often someone would come to the park in an obviously store-bought outfit; some were quite handsome, but they didn't quite have the charm and skill of the handmade ensembles.

For some reason this would annoy my Cousin Grim excessively, and he would often rail about those who would arrive in their purchased attire.  “It's not in the spirit of the Season!” he'd complain bitterly. I thought this was a bit unfair, and told him so. “But Cousin,” I said, “they want very much to take part in the celebration. Perhaps this is the best they can do. Should we exclude them simply because they aren't as talented or as resourceful as others? I think we should invite them to the party, and help them grow. Perhaps next time they'll attempt something original because they were so inspired by our celebration.” Grim saw the logic in this, and acquiesced, although he would still mutter under his breath occasionally. (That was simply how he was; to know him is to love him…)

Shouldn't we extend that same courtesy to these newcomers? Simply because they're infatuated with a style of Dark Fantasy that we don't find particularly worthwhile, shouldn't we do our best to welcome them in and perhaps expand their horizons? The genre is so huge, so vast in its varieties that it can encompass everything from bloody Shakespearian drama to phantasmagorical Swiftian whimsy and satire; everything from HALLOWEEN to PAN'S LABRYNTH to MARTYRS to THE OLD DARK HOUSE to SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES . Surely we can accept a sparkling vampire or two into the mix.

This intolerance isn't simply directed at the TWILIGHT brigade. I shudder to think how many times in recent years I've logged onto certain websites and blogs and been confronted with an argument for (or against) a particularly fierce or bloody work of cinema, to which the final argument was put: “If you can't appreciate something like this, go back to your PG movies and television. This is for Real Horror Fans! ”

Really? Real Horror Fans? Because I can't enjoy or appreciate a film that sole person seems to be the humiliation, torture and disembowelment of nude young women, I'm not a Real Horror Fan ? Because I rail against needless remakes or reimaginings that novice filmmakers throw onto the silver screen while ignore any attempts at original thought or storytelling I'm not a Real Follower of the Dark Fantastic? Because I would prefer to lose myself in a black and white Universal classic rather than subject myself to a 10,000 decibel 3D evisceration extravaganza I'm don't like Real Horror ? (Or, let's play Devil's Advocate and reverse it: is someone less of a fan because he doesn't like the Universal films and would prefer to spend his evenings with Misters Krueger, Voorhees and Myers, is he less of a fan? I have my suspicions, but what do I know?)

My bookshelves are stocked with everything from Poe and Bierce and Lovecraft to King and Bradbury and Barker to Matheson and  Serling and Collier to Bloch and  Gorey and Stoker. My film collection includes THE NIGHT STALKER, FRANKENSTEIN, ROSEMARY'S BABY, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, DEMEMTIA 13, INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE, WAR OF THE WORLDS, THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, STRAW DOGS, HORROR OF DRACULA, AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, and others too numerous to mention. No, I won't step aside for that argument, and I wouldn't dare toss it casually at anyone else whose sensibilities I might disagree with.

The world at large divides people into easy categories so that they may be labeled and marketed to, they set them upon each other to distract them from larger issues and for the entertainment of the masses who have nothing better to do than slow down for automobile accidents and street fights. By what madness would we agree to do that to ourselves, to willing allow others to keep us in conflict?

Don't get me wrong: good, vivid debate is very healthy for any community, and artistic standards are always subject to examination, certainly. I personally despise the so-called “torture porn” and “extreme” films that substitutes sadism for style and story; I lose my patience with studio executives trying to second guess success by dusting off a semi-familiar title in the sole hopes, not of artistic expression, but financial gain. I dislike our genre dumbed down and commercialized like so many sneakers or frozen dinners, put together by committee and prepackaged, bland as unseasoned tofu, and sent into the world not to expand our worldview and stimulate our senses but to make it through the first weekend in enough profit so that no one loses their position at Paramount and the sequel can be storyboarded for consumption next year. This is what should be discussed, in as many loud voices and as often as possible.

But what's happening now is not artistic debate; it's character assassination. It's US against THEM , with THEM being whatever and whomever you point at. And if it seems silly to spend this much time talking about movies, I recently came across a Facebook discussion that went from how stupid the TWILIGHT movie series is to a discussion about people who choose to live their lifestyles as “actual” vampires, in an extreme of the Goth tradition. And the discussion quickly degenerated to those who live as self-described “werewolves” , going so far as to wear tails with their everyday clothing. And how weird they were. What losers! How stupid! They need to get a life or something!

And that , my Friends, is where the slippery slope begins, and many a better man than I has tumbled down it and fallen flat onto his face before he knew what was happening.

And I think of Mr. Smith's comments at the Comic Con, and how he used very pointed humor to expose a certain truth; we all must hold the mirror up to ourselves before we begin trying to judge another's reflection.

Several years ago, the GOOSEBUMPS series of books were the rage with my young companions. It seems as though Mr. R. L. Stine would turn out another one every month (two if he skipped breakfast one day), and the shelves were filled with short books with covers showing demonic clowns, killer snowman, possessed puppets, scaled swamp denizens, and the like. They were devoured as soon as they were published, snatched up by eager young hands, and Mr. Stine became a great success.

I was suspicious of these books; I didn't think anything turned out so quickly could have any lasting quality. And I believe I was correct. Unlike the TWILIGHT books, I did read several of the GOOSEBUMPS series, and was dismayed at what I saw: anemic retreads of popular horror films and archetypes; paper-thin characterization; plots that read more like script outlines; dialogue to heavy and leaden that you could blacksmith a set of andirons on it. I thought they (the ones I read, at least) were abysmal, and was greatly troubled that, for many of my young friends, this would be their first taste of Dark Fantasy and Horror. (I was not persuaded by the argument that they were so simple because “they're for kids” ; not when Roald Dahl and Madeline L'Engle could turn out young people's literature that was textured and poetic and magical and literate. There were far better ways to introduce young people to the wonders our genre offered.) And I went on at length about how displeased I was with the books.

But something odd began to happen. Others I admired had some semi-kind things to say about them; people as critical of the field as Stephen King and Harlan Ellison, when asked about GOOSEBUMPS, replied grudgingly, “Well, at least they're getting kids to read!” It was so true I was forced to reevaluate my position. The books, simple and comforting with soft-centered scares and main characters that youngsters could identify with, were setting children's imaginations ablaze with possibilities, and allowing them to safely confront some of their mortal dreads in the same manner Mr. Romero and Mr. Cronenburg did for adults. They were sitting down at the banquet and eating; nibbling tentatively, but eating nonetheless, and finding the entrees delicious!

I've seen firsthand now how my young companions react to the books; I've seen them staring wide-eyed as a teacher or other adult reads passages to them, giddy with excitement and fear that the thing under the bed might be able to catch the hero this time after all, were the youngster not so resourceful. I've heard them talking with excitement about what they just heard, and how scary it would be if that happened in person. And I've seen them snatch up the next book and begin reading in fearful anticipation…

So although I still believe I'm correct in my assessment of their literary value, I believe I was much too hard on Mr. Stine and his creations, and have vowed to be far more tolerant in the future. And when it's time for them to graduate to older fair, I intend to take my young friends by the hand and, with their taste for fear already developing, lead them to a volume of “The Monkey's Paw” and “The Body Snatcher” and “The Signalman” and “The Judge's House” and “The Cocoon” and “The Tell-Tale Heart” and hand it to them, telling them, “Here. If you liked GOOSEBUMPS , you may truly enjoy this!”

Which I think is the most we can do for our TWILIGHT friends. There is a whole world of vampiric creations that may strike their fancy: SOME OF YOUR BLOOD, SUNGLASSES AFTER DARK, NEAR DARK, CRONOS, THE VAMPIRE LESTAT, and many others. (As I suggested last month, we might also do likewise with our brethren who believe the Zombie is the be-all and end-all of Horror…) But we can't do this by degrading them, or chastising them. Honey does attract far more flies than vinegar. (So does a rotting corpse, but again that's a discussion for another time…)

Let us by all means have hard, vivid debate; let us argue the worth of Rob Zombie as a filmmaker, or whether the new NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET does justice to its predecessor, on if Mr. Romero has lost it with his latest film or is just going through h a dry spell, on why Japanese Horror seems to be fading. Let us argue and insult and twist arms and raise our voices and bang on tabletops… but …once we're finished, let us take a long drink of the beverage of our choice, smile across the table and say, “That was fun! It was nice talking to you!”

And let us mean it.

There are enough forces out there trying to divide us. Why give them ammunition? To quote a wise man in the bewildering glare of the media and a hostile world, let us continue to ask ourselves: “Can't we all just get along?”