Green Hell

Flix For Dix

“Enough with those comic books already, Irving. I want that you should stop reading them. They’ll rot your mind.”

I can’t say for certain that any given present-day director, producer or screenwriter heard those words during his childhood and/or adolescence, but I have my suspicions.

Before hitting the hay (and a tad prematurely, at that) last night, I excoriated the non-horror film, Set Piece Murder (An utter waste of celluloid, in which a Vegas-based, German photographer – whose grandpappy was a Nazi, of course -- experiences nosebleeds whenever he shags a hooker, and subsequently gongs every Schlumpf in his path), and No Country for Old Men, a flick that keeps one on the edge of one’s seat for the first hour or so, then suddenly (and quite inexplicably) turns into an incoherent mass of shite during the last fifteen minutes.

I ain’t done, by a long shot.

Next on the shit list is the Japanese “epic,” Dragonhead.

This meandering yawn-fest takes place in post-apocalyptic Japan, in which the sudden obliteration of civilization by an immense volcano apparently turns every surviving resident of the “Land of the Rising Sun” into either a raving psychotic or a whining crybaby. The less said of it, the better – so don’t waste your money on this limp-dicked farce.

Nor on Hillside Cannibals.

While purportedly based on the tale of Sawney Bean, the infamous “Galloway Cannibal,” this silly piece of shit has nothing to do with the Beans, and – beyond the fact that one of the badguys is a deformed feeb in a kilt – nothing to do with Scotland.

In a nutshell, it’s set somewhere in the Southwest, and is essentially a cross between The Hills Have Eyes and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Inbred, cannibal retards kill loathsome, unsympathetic teenagers – and the viewer’s interest.

The only good thing I can say about this flick is that it’s motivated me to bag my own fucking groceries for the next month or two.

Last up on the list is 2Fast, 2Furious.

It’s 2fucking stupid and 2fucking pointless 2waste good money on.

The sooner the "Heathen Chinee" nuke L.A. -- and Miami -- the better.

This Just In: Movies Suck!

Krystals.

Fuckin' Krystals.

I'm not sure why, exactly; but every once in a blue moon, I simply have to have a Krystal.

A Krystal is the quintessential high school/college stoner food, to be sure. It's the Southern equivalent of a White Castle burger, tastes exactly like one, and should probably be banned, right along with DDT and above-ground nuclear testing.

In other words: A Krystal is a heart attack on a fucking plate, utterly devoid of nutritional value, and probably serves as a "gateway food" to Krispy Kreme doughnuts, Big Macs, and deep fried twinkies.

Knowing full well that a Krystal is the fast-food equivalent of C. sativa, I eat the fuckers anyway.

Sometimes, I crave junk food.

I offer no apologies.

Neither, apparently, does "Hollyweird."

Even as Krystals are my body's "guilty pleasure," so are movies my mind's.

Snugglin' on the couch with Mags, I sometimes subject myself to hours of mind-numbing, neuron-destroying shite -- for hours on end, at that -- and I freely admit to it.

Why? "Why?" you ask?

For the same reason I eat the occasional Krystal, as nearly as I can tell.

Fuck "chicken soup for the soul." Today's movies are "pot for the soul" -- but stepped with oregano, as often as not.

Got that?

Good.

Here's a short'n'sweet list of movies NOT to watch:

Set Piece Murder: Top-to-bottom shite. It's every bit as exciting as watching your junkie cousin puke his guts out on a Saturday night, but somewhat less predictable -- owing to its utter lack of a fucking plot.

The writer, while courageously eschewing Aristotelian dramatics, also eschews coherency. The flick makes no sense at all, and is, to all appearances, the childhood nightmare of a nice, Jewish boy (whose overbearing mother wouldn't let him watch Gunsmoke), committed to celluloid.

The pot-bellied, pimple-faced, bespectacled wankers at Hustler and Fangoria were probably too busy smoking pot, eating take-out pizza, and "chokin' their chickens" whilst watching Kitty Foxx Does the Boston 'Socks' to notice that the film is neither graphic nor offensive (beyond insulting the viewer's intelligence) when they reviewed it, so to hell with them -- and with the film.

It sucks.

As does No Country For Old Men.

This flick "fumbles on the one-yard line." It's a taut, engaging thriller --until the last fifteen minutes, at which point the viewer wanders away, scratching his head and muttering, "What the fuck?"

Grr... Gotta to to bed. More vitriol tomorrow.