There's Always Room for Giallo

I suppose this all started as a result of the following unholy union: iTunes+Castlevania: Symphony of the Night+morbid curiosity= ?. It was a cold, dark night. While slouching in my chair, eyes half closed with a clear stream of drool issuing from the corner of my mouth, I was poring over the current Genius recommendations that iTunes had for me. The songs all bled together into a cacophonous mass of sights and sounds. Unable to handle the sheer psychological stress of the depths of which I was traversing, I blacked out. When I came to, my computer screen greeted me with this disturbing image. Had I been in full posession of my faculties, I would have just closed iTunes and forgotten that the whole thing had ever happened. But at this particular moment in time, I did click, and I did listen. As the audible insanity of Goblin assaulted my mind grapes (as it is now assaulting yours!), a slew of haunting yet familiar images started to form within my nebulous brain. A castle, inverted. A male hero who was drawn with a very feminine facial structure. Bats, fish-men, skeletons, zombies, and...Death Incarnate! Was it? It was! Castlevania: Symphony of the Night! The salacious synths and guillotined guitars of Goblin could have been pulled directly from the haunted screens of the aforementioned graphical distraction! Having long abandoned my sanity, I probed deeper into the mystery of Goblin. After wandering lonely online avenues that I will not reveal, my search lead me to an Italian dude, his trilogy of witchcraft, and the terror of....Giallo. THE DUDE: Dario Argento, master of Mediterrenean macabre! THE TRILOGY: Le Tri Madre (The Three Mothers), wanderers across the wide world of witchcraft! GIALLO: It's description is to terrible for my fingers to form into words...behold, if you dare! The unbridled terror that presented itself after my frenzy-induced Google search caused me to black out for a second, and more prolonged period of time. I awoke around dusk of the following day, covered in dozens of ham and cheese Hot Pocket wrappers and lying face down in an unfamiliar parking lot. I arose to observe my surroundings. The parking lot belonged to a local video rental chain. Disobeying the last shreds of humanity that were faintly screaming for me to halt and return to my normal, God-fearing ways, I entered. I was drawn to the horror section like a vulture to a rotting bison carcass. Almost purely involuntarily, my hands reached for Suspiria and Inferno(comprising volumes one and two of the trilogy) but where was the third? Where was Mother of Tears? Ignoring all sense of public decency and decorum, I approached the counter attendant and urged her to contribute to my insanity by locating volume three of the trilogy. When she could not, I thrashed and I bellowed, knocking over a shelving unit filled with Jujy Fruits, Sno-Caps, Dots, and Junior Mints...sweet memories of a world of which I was no longer a part. I fled the scene with my prize and swiftly returned to my abode to obliterate what was left of my sound mind. I watched them both without pause, but without the third film, something was incomplete. Now, I am but a wanderer, searching for this last volume that will either bring me peace...or damnation.

Inglorious!