Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Movies You Can't Netflix: Rock 'n' Roll Nightmare

Just say no(In which I share my thoughts on an obscure piece of Eighties cinema: Today's film comes from 1987 via the Great White North.)

We open with one of the least scary horror sequences you're ever likely to see. Despite the director's obvious intention to create some suspense (see note below about the score) and perhaps frighten us the scene comes off rather flat. While cooking breakfast, disaster befalls a housewife: a puppety demon pops out of the fridge and eats her. The demon then kills the father and the couple's son.

That's our prelude. Ten years later, a hair-metal band heads to the very same house on a working vacation. Their plan is to relax, rehearse and/or record new material, up in Canada, because there are no distractions in Canada. Nonetheless, the band brings along their girlfriends too, but maybe they expect them to be very Canadian (i.e. not distracting). They aren't your typical groupies, what with the wearing of the pearls and such.

There's only about 20 minutes of movie in this movie, the other hour or so is mostly padding. First off, the film proper begins with an extended sequence of John Triton (the mantastically sculpted Jon Mikl Thor) driving his van through the countryside, a scene which lasts a good four minutes. Four minutes... of a van... driving through the countryside. Okay, so I can't document every instance of filler in this film, but viewers can expect to see lots of static shots of the exterior of the farmhouse where the film takes place, more shots of tree branches rustling in the wind, puppet's-eye views of furniture, a bunch of very un-sexy sex scenes, two musical numbers, time-lapse photography of clouds, and more scenes of people washing dishes than any movie with the words "rock n roll" in the title has any right to. Throw in some really cheap effects, consistently shitty dialog, and sizable helping of komedy, and you've a recipe for greatness. And by greatness I mean this movie sucks.

After about 20 minutes of filler, bad acting, the worst fake English accent ever, and shots and shots of branches, the truly horrible happens: The first musical number. It's a not-very-good hair-metal tune titled "We Live To Rock." To be fair, it's way better than the second tune they later play, but that ain't saying much. The band's rehearsal sounds, I'm guessing, nearly identical to their studio recording, but on the final note, tragedy strikes. The drummer breaks one of his drumsticks. Now, apparently this has never happened to anyone, anywhere ever before, and it is such a shock to the band that the rehearsal is thrown into chaos. And let me tell you, folks, it's all downhill from here. First off, people soon start dropping like so many fumbled plectrums, and secondly, there's another musical number still on the way.

The manager slinks off to the basement to find a spare stick, and once down there, bumps into the drummer's girlfriend. She's hot and raring to go, so she put the moves on him. Those moves involve turning into a monster and biting him. When the others rush downstairs to find out what the rumpus is, the basement is empty. The manager is gone, and no one is sure what to make of things. Though, it does lead to this primo dialogue exchange: "Let's go check upstairs," suggests one of the girls. Triton replies "Well, it sounded like the scream came from down here. [Thoughtful pause] You're right, let's go upstairs."

Unable to find the errant manager, it's concluded he must've gone to town to buy some new drumsticks. That certainly explains why he and the van have suddenly disappeared. Of course, you'd have to be daft to believe it. Needless to say, everyone believes it. Practice is cancelled and everyone is sent off to get laid. For a band that is supposed to be up in Canada rehearsing, they sure will use any excuse to slack off. Maybe this is why The Tritonz never became a household name, unlike Winger or Faster Pussycat.

And while none of the above makes any sense, it does allow this film to progress. Sort of. Eventually, after some footage of tree branches and whatnot, another member of the party is attacked. This time it's the drummer with the fake English accent, and he is again done in by one of the girls. Suddenly, it occurred to me that maybe this is some sort of anti-feminist parable, where women are really monsters who suck the life-force and creative energy from virile males, as typified by the cock-rockin'est of all archetypes: the heavy metal guitar god. But then I realized this is a movie starring Jon Mikl Thor and bunch of puppets, and quickly put that thought from my mind.

Here's the thing about the attacks: No one seems to end up dead. No, the victims all return sooner or later, oftentimes sooner. I think maybe they're possessed. Or they've transformed. Or something. After the drummer is attacked he's able to play without breaking his drumstick! He also seems to lose his awful, fake accent. I'm not sure that was because he's now a demon, or just a shitty actor. Of course, his newfound ability behind the drum kit leads to the inevitable: Yup, the second musical number.

And as bad at that song is, it cannot compare to the horror that's yet to unfold. I'm talking about Jon Mikl Thor's sex scene. I'm pretty much inured to the heterosexual mating rituals that are par for the course in your typical exploitation film, but this just goes beyond the pale. From his darting, reptilian tongue to his sweaty, misshapen ass, he's a horrific ghoul of a man. Watching him hump some woman, up in Canada, was just about all I could take. I shuddered as he pressed his naked flesh against the woman in the shower, his damp, stringy hair reminiscent of a dog caught in the rain.

The above notwithstanding, the film is not scary. But you can tell it wants to be. Whenever something "strange" or "ominous" happens, not-very-good synth music plays on the soundtrack. That's our only cue to be scared. If the score sounds familiar it may be because you perhaps, at one time, lived in the adjoining duplex where I grew up. When I was about eleven my mother bought me a Casio keyboard. I'd pound at the keys randomly, in an attempt to approximate music, in much the way an Einstürzende Neubauten album approximates music. But alas, I was never going to be Giorgio Moroder, and the producers of this soundtrack will never win an academy award. What I am saying is, the score here sounds a lot like an eleven-year-old boy with no talent banging away randomly at a synthesizer.

Somewhere in all this are more puppets, though they don't really do much except give the director an excuse to strap his camera to a skateboard and run it around the floor of the house so we can see what all the furniture looks like from down there. There is also a scene where an arm pops out of someone's chest and strangles a groupie. And for some reason the kid from the prologue returns, and turns into a ghoul, and attacks more members of the entourage.

All of this leads to the grand finale, where Thor's girlfriend reveals herself to be Beelzebub. This is a nice effect achieved by fading from an image of her to an image of a giant, green puppet. But don't worry, John reveals himself to be Triton the Archangel, AKA the Intercessor. (Note to non-Milton scholars, Triton does not appear in Paradise Lost, that chapter having been cut for being too fuckin' rockin' for pre-Restoration literature.) Triton the Archangel has quite the get up. He's wearing eyeliner and lipstick, his hair teased to the heavens (of course), a cape, and metal-studded forearm bracers.

Oh yeah, and he's sporting a very nice studded loincloth, the likes of which St. Michael would be envious of.

"You've overstepped your line again, Bub. There's a creator's highest law that keeps you in your dark place and yet you and your brethren still insist on coming into this world and trying to steal a place in the world of the living. When will you ever learn?"

Triton delivers the above pronouncement just before all hell breaks loose. All hell includes flying rubber starfish. Triton fights them off, tearing them asunder, as another hair-metal anthem blares from the soundtrack. Triton goes toe to toe with puppet Beelzebub, a fight that lasts exactly as long as the recording of "We Accept the Challenge."

It's no surprise that Triton defeats Beelzebub, but what is unsettling is how Bub (as Triton likes to call him) goes down in a shower of sparks. It's almost as if someone set a Black Cat firework in front of the puppet and lit the fuse. It's a not-very-good finale to an otherwise not-very-good horror film.

This movie sucks. I mentioned that earlier in my review. But still, I love the fact a film like this exists. There is something pleasing in the fact that a C-list rock star can write, produce and star in his own monster movie. Sure, the film could have been better if they'd used good actors, a competent director, and a decent script, but that is all beside the point. Jon Mikl Thor managed, somehow, to put together a film that is by no means good but still wholly his own.


Thursday, December 25, 2008

Santa Baby

"Santa Baby" by Eartha Kitt.


Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Cheney Whispers Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Since I've decided The Washington Times is my new favorite gay newspaper, allow me to share this headline: "Bush, Cheney comforted troops privately." Hawt. Sounds like a Dink Flamingo production.

From Dink's website:

Hot on the tails of The Surge, comes this white-hot sequel: Legendary power-bottom Dick Cheney returns to the screen in blistering performance as The Rear Admiral. Dick doesn't ask, he tells the young, raw recruits how he wants it! And they deilver, in only the way the men of the U.S. military can: with an unflinching lust for man-on-man action!

Stand at attention, boys, for the red, white and pink!
The article itself is pretty galling, and I don't recommend reading it unless you'd like to make yourself angry. But, I'll use anything as an excuse to post a Dink Flamingo picture.

Movies You Can't Netflix: Santa Claus

(Hola, Shakers, su película vienen hoy de México alrededor de 1959. ¡Feliz Navidad, bichos!)

Forget everything you thought you knew about Santa Claus. This movie* pisses all over those notions like it's had one too many cervezas. Santa does not live at the North Pole. Nope, he lives in a castle on a cloud in outer space. That ain't the half of it: His reindeer are windup toys, there are no elves, and he has to battle it out with Lucifer for the hearts and minds of all the children down on Earth.

Instead of elves, Santa has a whole mess of little kids helping him out. Children from every corner of the globe have been sent to help Santa. They labor night and day making toys for other kids the world over. It's like one big multi-ethnic sweatshop (which maybe explains why the African delegation is wearing nothing but leopard-print loincloths... No, I guess it doesn't. (This bit is, just FYI, usually removed from broadcast versions of the movie**.))

And Santa has gizmos galore in his ... laboratory. He's got a telescope that can spy on anyone anywhere, a giant ear in a radar dish that can pickup even a whisper, and a weird contraption that allows him to see what every child is dreaming about. It's been said Santa knows if you've been bad or good and all that, but until I saw him in action here, I never realized how creepy that really was. (No telecom immunity for Santa, I say!)

Lucifer doesn't like Santa, but hey, Lucifer doesn't like anyone. He sends Mitch***, his top henchman, up to earth to tempt all the kiddies into ill behavior, and thereby pissing off Santa to no end. First and foremost on Mitch's list is Lupita, a poor peasant girl whose only wish is to have a dolly of her own. But try as he might, Mitch can't turn the girl to the dark side (i.e. petty theft.) She "doesn't want to be evil" (her words) and shuns Mitch.

On Christmas Eve Mitch does his best to muck things up for Santa, moving chimneys and setting door knobs aflame. But Santa is pretty spry, plus he's got a bag of magic powder given to him by his old friend Merlin. Yeah, Merlin. Apparently he's no longer working for King Arthur and is now mixing things up at Santa's castle. In fact, he's the only other adult there. Forget what I said about the place being like a sweatshop, it's more like Neverland Ranch.

And as much as Mitch is bound to ruin things for Santa, Santa is determined to get Lupita that dolly she wants. He's one final stop before sunrise, which he has to avoid lest the reindeer turn to dust. (Are they vampire reindeer? Fuck if I know. I thought they were mechanical.) But Mitch puts a Doberman between Santa and Lupita, and it's up to Merlin to save the day.

This sort of makes Santa look not only like a wimp, but daft as well. But that's okay, because Lupita gets her doll and Mitch is defeated once more.

This film was originally produced in Mexico, and later "Americanized" by producer K. Gordon Murray. I've no idea how much his version resembles the original, or if his work can count as an "improvement." The production is so head-scratchingly bizarre, I don't know if it pleases me more to think the original version was just as loopy, or that Murray thought up all the crazy shit himself for American matinee audiences. Either way, I recommend gulping down a puke-inducing level of eggnog and sitting down to watch this unique bit of cinema.

* The film is available here, should you be inclined to view it. Thanks, Liss!

** If you're a glutton for punishment and want to see the offending image, click here, but be warned, it's in really bad taste. WTP is the only thing that comes to mind when I see it.

*** Actually, his name is Pitch, but the narrator kind of mumbles it the first time out, and I misheard it. But it was imprinted on my brain as "Mitch," so that's who he'll always be to me.


So Red The Robe

Like most As-Seen-On-TV! type products, I tend to shrug whenever I see them and think I could take it or leave it. Usually I lean toward leave it, since I have no real need for a Bedazzler or a fishing rod that will fold up nicely into my jacket pocket. I make an exception for the Sham-Wow guy who irks me to no end, with his stupid little Janet Jackson headset and annoying comments ("It's made in Germany, and you know the Germans always make good stuff"). He makes me want to punch the TV.

But I saw this one the other night and it made me laugh.

The Snuggie: The blanket with sleeves! Which, at first glance, seems like an innocuous enough product. Kind of makes the wearer look like they've got on a robe. And that's okay. Except, the red robe version makes the wearer look distinctly like a Satan-worshipping cultist.

And that's why I laughed.

See devil worshippers watch TV! See Satan's minions check their email! And my personal fave: Cultist eating popcorn! Knitting, reading time with the kids, backgammon! Cook smores around the fire, high five at the human sacrifice: Satanic families do it all! And there's nothing like getting your morning coffee or checking the Lifestyle section of the paper in your flaming-red devil-worshipping attire.


Thursday, December 18, 2008

Anchors Away, My Boys

Another update in the ongoing, heads-exploding-on-the-right saga of Obama's appointments and gays in the military: Congressional Democrats working with retired military leaders are pushing for William White to be appointed Secretary of the Navy. If chosen, White would be the first openly gay person to top one the nation's armed services.

Former Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Hugh Shelton says White "would be phenomenal." Rep. Jerrold Nadler (D-New York) agrees, saying "He's very capable."

Of course, professional homobigot Elaine Donnelly opposes the idea, claiming it "would be very demoralizing to the troops" and that appointing White that would be "very poor judgment on the part of the commander in chief." Donnelly stands by her long record of... well... nothing... to draw her conclusions.

The Obama camp had no comment.

(And why, oh why, do we keep reading this stuff in the Washington Fucking Times? Anybody?)

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Why I Hate The News (Yahoo Edition)

Actual Headline: Fewer adults would buy foreclosed homes: survey.

Ummmm... okay. And what would toddlers buy?

Movies You Can't Netflix: Silent Night, Deadly Night 5: The Toy Maker

Peek-a-boo!(In which I yet again share my thoughts on an obscure sequel: Today's film is brought to you by the Christmas Spirit, 1992.)

Silent Night, Deadly Night 5: The Toy Maker is a sequel to Silent Night, Deadly Night 4: Initiation which is not a sequel to Silent Night, Deadly Night 3: Better Watch Out!. This one at least follows the previous film, though indirectly, by making Kim and Lonnie from part four the next door neighbors. Clint Howard even manages to return as Ricky, despite have been turned into worm food, literally, in the last outing.

For those of you who don't know, Silent Night Deadly Night 4 was kind of like Suspiria, but with Clint Howard. I guess that makes Silent Night Deadly Night 5 like Toy Story, but with Clint Howard. Except the toys here are more dangerous than Tim Allen after an eight day coke binge.

Someone has been anonymously leaving gift-wrapped little toys for a young boy named Derek on the family's porch. The first one is unwrapped by his suspicious father. It looks like an oversized Pokeball, but soon reveals itself to be a demented Santa music box that churns out a death march before attaching itself, Alien face-hugger-style, to poor old dad and sucking the life out of him.

Witnessing his father's death has rendered Derek mute. Mom, on the other hand, doesn't seem all too broken up. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to tell her spouse had passed away at all. I guess we all deal with grief in different ways. Susan makes sandwiches for her son and otherwise behaves as if nothing happened. To be fair, she does express some mild concern for her son, and decides to buy him a nice toy to cheer him up.

Susan and Derek stop by Petto's Toys, in hopes of finding the perfect gift. Now, "Petto's" might look okay up on the façade of the shop, but saying it out loud makes it disturbingly pervacious. Shopkeeper Joe Petto is played by Mickey Rooney, and it made me wonder how broke, how desperate was he, that he had to appear in this. After 65 years in Hollywood, had he not saved enough money so he wouldn't be reduced to roles like this?

Joe Petto runs his shop with his son Pino, a stiff young boy with few social skills. When not imploring Derek to take a toy he built (a charming number called Larry the Larvae), he's breaking into Susan's house and sniffing around her underwear drawer.

All the while, packages keep showing up for Derek.

He manages to ditch them one after another. Unfortunately they end up mutilating whoever else happens to find them. A pair of rocket-powered rollerblades sends poor Lonnie into the path of a speeding car and straight into traction. If it ain't witches trying to sacrifice him, he's got to worry about demented toy makers.

Another toy burrows into some poor sap's head while driving, causing him to run off the road. Of course, his car explodes in a huge fireball. (For the record, any time a car in a movie explodes despite having no real reason to, a little bit of joy is brought into my life.)

Who the toy maker is, isn't exactly clear. Odds are on creepy little Pino. But then again, who's that strange guy always lurking around the neighbourhood? And what's up with Joe? Did he really sabotage some toys and mangle a bunch of kids years ago? And is Pino what he really seems?

That last one is probably a yes, because "wooden" seems to describe more than just his personality. If you figured out he's not a real boy, pat yourself on the back, because you've proven yourself not a moron.

As strange as this film is, it takes a serious left turn right near the end, with the last ten minutes being truly bizarre. Any attempt to describe it wouldn't do it justice, and besides, it would ruin the surprise. That'd be like peeking at your presents before Christmas. And we know what happens to boys and girls who are naughty. Well, if this movie is any indication, they end up abducted by a deranged lunatic dressed as Santa and stuffed into his sack. But now I've already said too much. No more peeking, just track this one down yourself.


Monday, December 15, 2008

Pat Boone Loves You Just The Way You Are

Well, no, not really. I mean, he says he loves gays, loves people who "were practicing homosexuals." (The operative word here seems to be "were.") Sure, just because he compared us to terrorists last week, doesn't mean he doesn't like us, right? In response to some criticism from bloggers like me (and someone named Keith Olbermann, who has some sort of TV show) Boone has a new piece up at WND professing just how much he doesn't hate us (so long as we don't touch his thigh. Seriously.)

Among his ample evidence, the two books he wrote about how to stop being gay: Joy: A Homosexual's Fulfillment (which I am going to go out on a limb here and predict does not include having a same-sex relationship) and Coming Out: True Stories of the Gay Exodus. He even prayed for his friends, Rock Hudson among them, as AIDS ravaged their bodies, even though he "couldn't approve their sexual practices." That's nice.

Thanks, Pat, but I just don't think I can take any more of your "love."

(Via Towleroad. Again.)

Friday, December 12, 2008

World's Sexiest Man To Host Oscars

And the wimmer is...I'm going to be honest with you: I haven't watched the Oscars in years. This is largely because the movies I tend to patronize aren't the types of things that get awards. Not good awards anyway. Besides that, Giorgio Moroder hasn't been nominated for anything in years (and I suspect he might actually be dead, but wevs) so why should I tune in? And even though I don't watch the show, I still feel compelled to critique the ceremony. It's my nature, really.

Breaking the tradition of anointing a passable, semi-passible, or oft-times downright-unfunny comedian to host the festivities, this year producers are taking a different approach. They've selected someone charming to emcee the event: Hugh Jackman.

He is a likeable fellow with a decent career (Van Helsing notwithstanding). Oh, and as I mentioned, he's also The Sexiest Man Alive, as decided by whomever decides such things. Good for him. I hope everyone in the free world tunes in to ogle him in a tux.

Too bad he'll still have to deliver Bruce Vilanch's mind-numbingly awful jokes. And even I may let that slide so long as he enters the stage like his:

P.S. Go Heath Ledger!


Because I Jinxed It

Just the other day I mentioned how pleased I was not to hear a darn thing about John McCain in the news lately. Of course, that prompts not one but two stories about him to crop up. (And rather than muck up this blog with more of my pointless yammering, I'll just drop them both into one post.)

Part One: Even Joe The Plumber Thinks You Suck

Sammy "Joe the Plumber" Wurzelbacher said he felt "dirty" after campaigning with McCain. Particularly, he was upset by McCain's efforts to keep the economy from tanking completely. Wurzelbacher said he "asked him some pretty direct questions. Some of the answers ... they appalled me, absolutely. I was angry." (But that's okay, looks like Wurzelbacher will get his wish soon enough.) I guess he doesn't think people in this country should get something for nothing. Unless it's a book deal, or a recording contract.

He added, "In fact, I wanted to get off the bus after I talked to him." He didn't. Points for integrity, Sammy.

Part Two: Pot Meet Kettle

McCain appeared on Letterman last night, and inevitably the subject of Blagojevich came up. While discussing the governor's refusal to step down amid pressure from all sides. Letterman pondered "[Blagojevich] is either stupid or he's nuts. What do you think?"

To which the senator replied "I think a rare combination of both."

Well, if anyone knows crazy and stupid, it's McCain.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Obama To Appoint Lesbian To Senior Role In Administration

Speaking on the condition of anonymity two transition team officials leaked President-elect Obama's pick for White House Council on Environmental Quality: Nancy Sutley, Deputy Mayor of L.A. and "prominent member of the gay and lesbian community."
[Sutley] previously served on the California State Water Resources Control Board, which is responsible for protecting water quality and resources throughout the state, and was the energy adviser to former Gov. Gray Davis. During President Bill Clinton's administration, Sutley was an EPA official, including being a special assistant to the EPA administrator in Washington.
Also worth noting: "Steven Chu, a Nobel Prize winning physicist, appears to be increasingly on track to become energy secretary."

This just keeps getting better and better.

(Via Towleroad.)

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Larry Craig: Still Totally Gay

Well, still guilty of soliciting gay sex in a Minneapolis airport. The Minnesota Court of Appeals today rejected Craig's request to have his guilty plea (and subsequent conviction) thrown out.

After the court's ruling, Craig issued the following statement: "I am extremely disappointed by the action of the Minnesota Court of Appeals. I disagree with their conclusion and remain steadfast in my belief that nothing criminal or improper occurred at the Minneapolis airport." Despite this, Judge Charles Porter described Craig's original plea as "accurate, voluntary and intelligent, and ... supported by the evidence."

Craig is considering an appeal to the Minnesota Supreme Court.

Random Thought

You know what's nice? Reading the news and not hearing peep about John McCain.

Pat Boone, No One Gives A Shit What You Think

Retrofuck jackhole and irrelevant has-been Pat "I-Once-Recorded-A-Shitty-Metal-Album-In-A-Desperate-Bid-To-Prove-I-Wasn't-Dead" Boone wants you to know something: Fags and terrorists are one and the same. To wit, "there is a real, unbroken line between the jihadist savagery in Mumbai and the hedonistic, irresponsible, blindly selfish goals and tactics of our homegrown sexual jihadists." And by sexual jihadist, he means anyone (as I just mentioned this morning) who stood up against bigotry and intolerance by protesting against Prop. 8.

In a profoundly stupid op-ed piece for WorldNetDaily filled with misinformation, contradiction and outright lies, Boone lays out all the tried and true talking points of homobigotry (which I am not even going to bother debunking, as that's been done hundreds of times already) but throws in a new twist, "the awful similarity between what happened in Mumbai" and the struggle for equality.

And as Boone so aptly points out, "Hate is hate, no matter where it erupts. And hate, unbridled, will eventually and inevitably boil into violence." Yes, Pat, we know. Which means, if you had even the slightest modicum of decency, you'd refrain from wildly inappropriate and inflammatory bullshit. But then, you've your readers to think of, eh?

Newt Gingrich: Still A Douche

Newts gets chummy with a fascistRemember last month when Newt called us gays fascists for having the temerity to stand up for our basic human rights? Turns out he totally didn't mean it. Well, he did mean it, but only sort of. Just in a "very narrowly focused" way. Oh, okay, I guess that's alright then. Seriously, does he think anyone is buying that? Does anyone really believe the phrase "gay and secular fascism in this country that wants to impose its will on the rest of us" refers to anyone other than the millions of people, gay and straight, secular and religious, who fought to defeat Prop 8 and similar measures? Those of us who stood up and said "you are not going to reduce us to second-class citizens anymore"?

I don't know what's more galling, Newt's outright lies on the matter, or his mealy-mouthed refusal to actually defend his beliefs. Wevs, Newt, you're still a douche.

Movies You Can't Netflix: Nutriaman

Peek-a-boo!(In which I share my thoughts on an obscure piece of vintage cinema: Today's film comes from 1984 by way of the Creole State.)

I've said before, there are few better things in the world of B-cinema than a film that opens with stock footage. One of those things is a movie that opens with a POV shot of monster. In this case, we're looking through the eyes of Nutriaman, a creature that is, well, a giant, mutated nutria. A giant, mutated, pissed off nutria at that.

Nutria are small rodents, akin somewhat to muskrats. And while not indigenous to North America, they have adapted quite well to the swampy terrain of the Gulf Coast states. The state of Louisiana has attempted to promote nutria meat as The Other, Other White Meat™ with little success; despite being allegedly low in cholesterol, most folks aren't too keen on eating rodent. Oddly enough, people aren't too averse to wearing them as coats, which brings us to our story.

The Copasaw bayou is the heart of nutria country. It's a wilderness of trappers, poachers, and mad scientists with only one lone game warden to keep them all in check. (And how much do I love that the film's hero is not a cop but a game warden.) The film opens looking through the eyes of the monster. He grunts, he groans, he skulks behind trees... Until he hears the tortured squeaks of a fellow nutria, snared in a trap. He immediately puts a bayou-style smackdown on the drunken yokel responsible.

Local game warden Frank discovers the body and hauls it out of the swamp. He and the coroner are both confused. Clearly, it wasn't an alligator that tore this man up. It kind of looks like the work of an angry grizzly, but bears don't live on the bayou. Meanwhile, trappers Jessie and T-Bob, along with their agitated father, discover their traps are all empty. Poachers, they assume.

The only people who might know the truth are a pair of research scientists working to create some sort of supernutria for the fur industry. Of course, they're not talking, afraid word of that nasty business with their latest experiment might prove troublesome. After the monster attacks the ramshackle hovel of a crotchety old swamp woman, the scientists kidnap the woman and pump her for information.

She describes "a man, a nutriaman…" Can it be possible? Turns out, the coroner says the same thing. The first victim was killed by a nutria. A single nutria. Frank has a hard time believing a tiny rodent could have slaughtered that man, but there is no other reasonable explanation.

In the meantime, Frank is butting heads with Jessie and T-Bob. They don't like the game warden snooping around their place. In addition to their fur trapping business, the family also cooks up its fair share of moonshine. Jessie and T-Bob have also managed to steal a few crates of dynamite from local miners, in the hopes of turning it around for a quick buck. (It's a business model based on diversification, I guess.) Frank himself has already got his hands full with a killer, mutated rodent roaming his bayou, the last thing he needs is trouble from the locals.

But this is Louisiana, and trouble is what he's got.

One of the scientists has posted notices across town offering $10,000 for anyone who captures a 100 pound nutria. Now, every drunken fool in the parish with a gun and an airboat converges on Copasaw looking to collect that ransom. Too bad Nutriaman isn't so easy to wrangle.

Frank has brought in a Green Beret friend of his to help track the beast. For some odd reason, the supposed commando is wafer thin and is as intimidating as Judge Reinhold. He doesn't look like he could wrestle a poodle to the floor, much less a full-fledged Nutriaman. Nonetheless he and his team load up their rocket launchers and head into the swamp.

And when Nutriaman devours Jessie and T-Bob's father, they too wade into the bayou seeking revenge. It's anyone's guess who'll make it out alive.

This film is far better than it has any right to be. Nutriaman is only seen in flashes, which perhaps worked in his favour. No point in showing off a badly made monster suit if you don't have to. The performances were actually pretty good for regional fare (the bizarro Green Beret casting aside). I particularly liked Michael Tedesco's sympathetic turn as the idiot man-child T-Bob. (Then again, maybe I just have a soft spot for the idiot man-child archtype.)

If you're a fan of rodent-based swamp-monster movies, search out Nutriaman. If you're not, well, that's your problem.


Monday, December 08, 2008

Possibly More Good News

You know, I've given Obama plenty of shit for his less-than-impressive relationship with the gay community. But this bit of news pleases me to no end. President-elect Obama may be the first president to appoint an openly gay person to his cabinet. Mary Beth Maxwell is described as "a gay woman, community organizer and labor leader with an adopted African American son." And she's in the running for the position of Secretary of Labor under Obama. Very cool. Here's to hoping she gets the job. This country needs someone like her.

Sunday, December 07, 2008

Sunday Night Kitteh

The best place for a kitteh on a Sunday night? In front of the fire.

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

God Is A Bullet

Kentucky is the only state in the country to never suffer a terrorist attack, know why? Because they have God on their side. And that's the law.

That law requires Kentucky's Homeland Security department to thank, first and foremost, God for protecting the state from harm. Specifically, the law mandates that as the department's prime directive. (I guess protecting citizens is a secondary concern.) The law also requires the Department of Homeland Security to hang up plaques saying how much they owe their safety to God. Because it's not enough to thank God, but you've gotta be showy about it or it doesn't count. Right? That's in the Bible, folks!

The law is not without its detractors. But KY Homeland Sec chief Thomas Preston remained neutral, stating "I will not try to supplant almighty God. All I do is try to obey the dictates of the Kentucky General Assembly."

As state Rep. Tom Riner (D-Louisville), the man responsible for the legislation, puts it: "This is recognition that government alone cannot guarantee the perfect safety of the people of Kentucky. Government itself, apart from God, cannot close the security gap. The job is too big for government."

No word yet on what God could have done to prevent the deaths of 165 people at the Beverly Hills Supper Club or the destruction of Brandenburg by a tornado or the crash of Comair Flight 191 or anything listed here.

(Via Birmingham Blues.)

The Slippery Slope

I think it was Rick Santorum who warned us that if you let teh gayz get married, then all kinds of crazy shit would start happening. Turns out he was right. Check out this bit of celebrity news from California: The Cruises are planning to marry the Beckhams. You're probably scratching your head wondering what that means. Allow me to explain. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are going to "merge" their family with David and Victoria Beckham's family "in a special ceremony." The couples have been wooing one another with hansom cab rides, standing ovations and custom-built basketball courts, so the next logical step is to get hitched. Good luck on your new union, kids! Though, I'd think there's got to be an easier way to get into David Beckham's pants.


Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Random Funky Winkerbean

I've no idea the context here, I found this years ago while sitting in a laundromat waiting for my socks to dry. I don't know what it means. I don't want to know.


Friday, November 28, 2008

Black Friday

Black Friday is upon us. The holiest of holies, that day of unbridled consumerism and conspicuous spending that makes us all Americans, no matter what country we live in. And while you're out there today stimulating the economy, like the good patriots you are, think of me. Yes, think of me and all the things I want need. Because nobody wants needs more stuff than I do. So here's my Xmas List. Print it out. Take it with you. It'll make shopping for me easier.

Playmobil Hazmat Crew

Bruce of Los Angeles: Outside/Inside

EyeClops Bionic Eye

Suit of Armor

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Tiffany Metropolis Cuff Links

Vintage Stormtrooper 12" Action Figure

Dusty in Memphis by Dusty Springfield

Pith Helmet

Acupuncture Cat Model

The Exact and Very Strange Truth by Ben Piazza

Hugo Boss Plain Toe Oxfords

Corey Haim: Me, Myself, and I

Rainer Werner Fassbinder's BRD Trilogy

UPDATED to add: Darth Vader Toaster


Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Habeas Schmabeas

Constitutional tomfoolery is afoot! Gasp! The world is alight with talk of emoluments and essential oils. And Clinton. (Just google "emoluments" and "Clinton" and see.)

In case you didn't know before today, "emolument" is a word powdered wig types used way back when instead of "paycheck." Maybe because back then senators got paid in livestock instead of money.

In case you didn't know before today, Obama appointing Clinton Secretary of State would be unconstitutional. Because of emoluments.

The problem is, Article I, Section 6 of the U.S. Constitution says a senator who has voted a pay increase for a job like Secretary of State can't then serve as Secretary of State. I guess to keep them from voting a big fat raise for a job they're eyeing in the future. Kind of presumptuous, if you ask me. Does anyone really think Clinton's (or anyone else who approved the pay increase) grand plan was to vote for the emoluments, then lose the primary, then sneak her way into that (presumably now) high-paying job as Secretary of State? Okay, maybe people do think that.

There may be a way around the issue of emoluments, as far as the Oval Office is concerned: Roll back the pay; render the increase null and void. Unfortunately, according to constitutional scholars, this is totally not cool even though Taft did it to get Philander Knox in the White House. As did Nixon and Carter and W.J. Clinton. And who the hell names their kid Philander anyway? Seriously, that's messed up. See, even if the emoluments were dropped to pre-Clinton-vote figures, it would still be a violation of the Constitution. Let me quote pertinent bit (which, like all good bits of that document, I've snipped down to its useful parts) which makes it clear:

"No Senator shall, during the Time for which (s)he was elected, be appointed to any civil Office, which the Emoluments whereof shall have been increased during such time."

Just as you can't unring a bell, just as you can't shove sausage backward though a meat grinder and pull a pig out the other end, some things just can't be undone. Even if you did roll back the pay, you can't undo the historical fact that the increase was made. Even if it's gone now. So there. Suck on that, Taft! It may seem like mere equivocating, but it's not. No sir. It's the Constitution, and it can't be fucked with.

It's wonderful to know there are those fine, brave folks out there willing to stand up to our incoming president, and they won't let him make mockery of the rule of law in this country. Just imagine what would happen if our president tried to suspend habeas corpus on a whim or something.

Oh, Do Tell!

Delay schmelay.

This just in: Washington Times full of shit! Okay, you probably already knew that. According to a member of the Obama transition team, the president-elect has no plans to delay the repeal of DADT.
[N]ot everyone familiar with the issue has said that repealing the ban on open service would come later rather than sooner. Rep. Ellen Tauscher (D-Calif.), the lead sponsor of legislation that would repeal "Don’t Ask, Don't Tell" told CNN earlier this month that the administration would approve of such a bill next year.

"The key here is to get bills that pass the House and the Senate, that we can get to President-elect Obama to sign, and I think that we can do that, certainly, the first year of the administration," she said.
Once Obama's national security team is in place, something I assume will happen prior to 2010, the administration will develop a strategy to get DADT repealed.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


In shocking, shocking, shocking news, President-elect Barack Obama will not let Teh Gayz run rampant over the military come January 20th. In fact he may wait until later in his term to attempt overturning DADT. Instead of opening the floodgates of sodomy on the armed forces his first day in office, Obama plans to meet with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Pentagon to develop new legislation he can present to Congress.

Which sounds quite reasonable.

In fact, I've been unable to find any reference to Obama promising a timeline on withdrawal (to borrow a phrase) of the policy. So, what is the point of the article at all? Other than to paint Obama as a liar, a promise breaker, a turncoat on this "explosive" issue (and probably everything else, now that we mention it; he's a secret Muslim and a liar, don't ya know.) Not that The Washington Times, that bastion of fair and balanced reportage, would ever resort to such a thing.

And what makes me think that anything having to do with Teh Gays is "explosive" as far as these douchsniffers are concerned?


Friday, November 21, 2008

The Muses Are Heard

As you may or may not know, Liss and I are good friends. I mention this in part to make you jealous, but also to let you know that our friendship does have its price. For example, when Liss can't sleep, and gets all loopy, she kills time in the wee hours of the morn Photoshopping pictures, superimposing my mug into a weird little fantasy world she's created for me. A world kind of like Planet Unicorn, but gayer. A world where I am, apparently, Olivia Newton-John:

And, as is typical of our friendship, I responded to this image thusly: "You know, if you're gonna go through all that work to Photoshop my ass into that picture, couldn't you have at least done something about my eyebrows?"

And with that, I wish you all a happy weekend.

Wooly Bully

I was reading a NYT article about a group of scientists speculating about resurrecting an extinct mammoth, à la Jurassic Park III. I found the article interesting for a couple of reasons. There are the sciency aspects of the story, and being the nerd I am, that type of thing fascinates me. I also got a kick out of the way the scientists seemed to throw out (seemingly arbitrary) monetary figures about how much such a project would cost. Like these guys were contractors you've called up to get an estimate on that new deck you're installing. "Sure we could build ya a wolly mammoth. It ain't gonna be cheap. That'll run ya about, say, ten million, give or take." Scientists also speculated that if one could clone a mammoth, a Neanderthal couldn't be too difficult either.

It was a geniunely fascinating article. Until i got to end, where I read this bit:
"Catholic teaching opposes all human cloning, and all production of human beings in the laboratory, so I do not see how any of this could be ethically acceptable in humans," said Richard Doerflinger, an official with the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.
What is that quote even doing in a science article? You never read a story about a church bake sale being interrupted with an interview from some Nietzschean saying "God is dead, cookies are pointless and futile." And, you know, it's not like the Church has this great track record when it comes to science, what with all that flat earth, center of the universe, burn the witches type stuff in their cannon.

So quit spoiling my science articles with b.s. about whatever some schmoe from some church thinks about atoms, or black holes or cryogenics or anything.

Bigger Than Jesus

Hillary Clinton is Bigger than Jesus. By more than 200 votes. At least according to voters in Jacksonville FLA. Clinton pulled in 234 write-in votes to Jesus's mere 23 in Duval County on election day. Jesus tied (for fourth) with None of the Above, and beat out His Number One Fan, Mike "I Hate Queers" Huckabee by two. God got six votes, so, I think, Catholically speaking, you could add those to Jesus's votes to suggest He actually took third place. Though, that still puts Him behind Ron Paul.

Also garnering votes: Chuck Norris and Bill Nye with two each (I smell a cage match!), as did noted hater of Mexicans and CNN talking head Lou Dobbs; Donald Duck and T. Boone Pickens (what, no Yosemite Sam?) got three each. It also warms my cockles to see some folks still love Fred Thompson as much as I do. He got four votes.

In the single digits I was thrilled to see Tommy Chong; it's good to know stoners still vote. Also winning lone write-ins: Bill O'Riely (sic), Hilary Bush (yeah, tres clever, oh and sic, by the way), Weird Al Yancovic (sic; and what is it with people not being able to spell?) and Truman (presumably this one, not that one.)

Inexplicably, Obama got four write-in votes. I wonder if those are counted. Probably not.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The Antichrist Comes A-Knockin'

What, Me Worry?Every election year some loon (or group of loons) posits the idea that one or more of the candidates is the Antichrist. They point to signs, like the candidate's stance on gay marriage (Satan likes buttfucking), and abortion (Satan like dead babies), and how close to June 6 they may have been born. New World Order this, Mrs. Baylock that, Rapture, Endtimes, blah blah blah. That's fine. We expect it from nutbags. What we don't expect is for shit like that to be printed in Newsweek.

This week's Newsweek dedicates 666 words* under this headline: Is Obama the Antichrist?

Seriously, Newsweek, this is what you're printing these days? Stories about our President-elect being the supreme evil and bringer of the End of the World? (And if so, why the hell didn't you ask that eight fuckin' years ago?)

Speculating whether Obama has replaced Pope John Paul II and Marilyn Manson as the Antichrist du Jour is all well and good, if you're an internet whacko or The Washington Times, but Newsweek, c'mon, you should know better. And using phrases like "Obama probably isn't the Antichrist" (emphasis mine) in your articles, even if it's attributed to an interviewee, is pretty fuckin' dicey, especially when the whole tone of the article doesn't seem too concerned with countering that idea.

* For the record, that is not true. But if Newsweek can print wildly inflammatory bullshit, so can I.

(Via Steve Benen.)

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Get Out The Vote

Just a reminder, today is election day (see above).

If you need help finding your local polling place, click here.

P.S. And yes, this is just an excuse to post this ridiculous picture I took today.

Monday, November 03, 2008

A Final Thought

For the sake of argument, let's just say that McCain really is the mav'rick he claims to be: He really has been for the last quarter century dedicated to reform in our nation's capitol. He's taken shots from his own party and certainly from the other party, all to make Washington, and the country, a better place. You know, for all the Joe the Plumber types out there.

If that is true, if McCain is that heroic reformer and bringer of change, and the country is in the shape it's in now, then there is only one conclusion to make: McCain's efforts have been a complete failure. McCain is a complete failure. Because if he's spent the last twenty-six years trying to change the face of Washington for the better, he's accomplished fuck all in that regard.

Bill Maher: Still A Douche

Never one to miss an opportunity to confirm his status as a ginormous wankstain,"edgy" "comedian" Bill Maher threw out another of his standard homophobic jokes over the weekend. During a photo op with "American Idol" host Ryan Seacrest, wherein Seacrest suggested the photographer "get the boys in the picture," Maher retorted with the oh-so-clever "Get with the boys - that's your department, Ryan." Hilarious.


Thursday, October 30, 2008

Sunday School, Thursday Edition: Bible Stories With Deeky: Moses and the Golden Calf, Parts 1 & 2

Sermon on the Mount, bitchez!A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away there once was a boy named Moses. He survived a very late-term (fourth trimester) abortion at the hands of a Muslim and enemy of freedom named The Pharaoh. The Pharaoh was a pro-abortion baby-hater and advocate of same-sex marriage. Needless to say, he had no business being around children, so Moses's caretaker (Grandma Moses) chucked him in the Nile. Because he loved the baby Jesus and prayed a bunch, Moses was not eaten by crocs, but instead rescued and made an honorary Egyptian.

That was all cool until God got a wild hair and decided to start giving a shit about the Israelites and commanded Moses to lead them to the Promised Land. The Egyptians didn't like this idea because they were lazy and didn't like to do anything themselves and had made all the Jews their slaves. "Sucks to be you," said Moses and told Yul Brenner they were gonna book. Yul was pissed and asked Allah to stop them, but Moses's God was bigger than Yul's God and He put the serious smackdown on the Egyptians.

God unleashed the Ten Plagues™ on Egypt which included: rivers of blood, raining frogs, prop comics, stubbed toes, and halitosis. God even killed all the Egyptian babies, just to show he wasn't fucking around. (As if raining frogs wasn't proof enough.) God's pro-life street cred was not tarnished by that last one. This was later made into a movie starring Hilary Swank.

So, Moses and the Israelites wandered the desert for forty years. There was no MapQuest back then. And even though God had no problem raining fire and locusts down on an entire country, He couldn't be bothered to give Moses a fucking compass.

While camped out near Mt. Sinai, God turned into a burning bush, and told Moses to come visit him up at his ski cabin in the hills. He had something for him. Moses put his son in charge while he was on vacation, which turned out to be just like that movie Risky Business, where all hell breaks loose while Dad is away.

Moses's son Aaron went around the village and demanded everyone give him their bling so he could melt it down into a statue of a calf. This was not socialism, by the way. The Israelites worshipped the Golden Calf, and when Moses got back, boy was he pissed! As it turns out, that was at the top of The List of Very Bad Things he had just been given by God. Moses then smashed the Golden Calf and killed everyone who had worshipped it. "Sucks to be you."

The moral of this story: Worshipping God = Good. Worshipping Idols = Bad. (Also, Don't fuck with God, he kills babies.)

Fast-forward 9,000 or so years.

Nouveau-Israelite, God Channel TV host and biblical scholar Cindy Jacobs attempted to prove you can serve God and Mammon. How? By worshipping a Golden Calf. Like Moses, God speaks directly to her, and He recently said "Nevermind all that shit I wrote in the Ten Commandments, get a bunch of people down to Wall Street, tout de suite. I need you to get your prayer on. And I hate gays."

The ever-obedient Jacobs put together the Day of Prayer for the World's Economies, which culminated with the laying of hands upon Wall Street's Golden Bull yesterday. (See image here.) God responded with a 2% increase on the Dow Jones.


Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Democracy Is Coming...

...To The USA.

Leonard Cohen


Monday, October 27, 2008

There Are Bad Times Just Around the Corner

And we've the gun sales to prove it.

Faced with a bleak economic forecast, and the possibility of a Democrat in the White House, Americans everywhere have been stocking up. On weapons. Yes, weapons. Not soup, or blankets, or water. Not even bibles. But guns and ammunition.

As Bob Leyshion, American citizen, puts it: "People are preparing for catastrophe right now. It's insurance. With the stock market crash and people out of work, and the illegal aliens in this area, the probability of civil disorder is very high."

So, with this perfect storm of a faltering stock market, illegal aliens, and presumed Democratic control of the government, we are, apparently, on the verge chaos, rioting, and the breakdown of civil society. Better stock up on semi-automatic weapons then.

"Look at the political situation and the financial situation. It's common sense. People are scared," says Gun Emporium owner Fred Russell. It's that common sense that says put an Uzi in your kid's hands, I guess.

And as gun owner Margaret Marcus explains: "I think right now people are scared Obama is going to take their rights away." Don't worry, Margaret Marcus, I am pretty sure your membership in a well regulated militia will not be infringed.

Speaking of militias, and people with guns and the breakdown of civil society:

Law enforcement agents have broken up a plot by two neo-Nazi skinheads to assassinate Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama and shoot or decapitate 88 black people, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco Firearms and Explosives said Monday.

Jim Cavanaugh, special agent in charge of ATF's Nashville field office, said the two men planned to kill 88 black people, including 14 by beheading. The numbers 88 and 14 are symbolic in the white supremacist community.

I don't have any jokes to accompany that bit of information.

Maps and Legends

I love CNN's Electoral Map Calculator. Especially the way it stands now. Just look at it. If you give all the "safe" and "leaning" states to the respective candidates, there is no way McCain wins. Even if you're exceedingly generous and give all the toss-up states to McCain, he still loses. In fact, the only way he wins is if he keeps all his states, takes all the toss-ups, and somehow manages to peel a few of Obama's away. Awesome. Totally awesome.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Oops!: Defrocked Edition

Note to priests, pastors and padres everywhere: Stay away from the hardcore porn while using rectory computers. Nevermind that what you're doing may be considered immoral and probably sinful by your particular sect, which, if discovered, might make you look like a hypocritical doucheface, but you run the risk of infecting your computer with a nasty virus.

And if that computer happens to be on the church's network, a virus like that could spread to the rest of the computers on said network, which could then turn the whole shebang to salt, so to speak. Then no one will have access to Mrs. Gustavsson's Frito pie recipe on the church website. Oh, and yeah, the pastor in question will likely have to resign. And maybe get defrocked.

By the way, just as an aside, "defrocked" is probably one of my top ten favorite words of all time.

So, if you're a man of the cloth and your web surfing can be described as "thousands of visits" to "very unpleasant" "extreme pornography" sites, it may be wise to snitch a few bucks out of the poor box and get Norton AntiVirus. Or risk a defrocking.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Bush To Keep Guantánamo Open

Seriously? What can even be said about this douchenozzle anymore? Ninety more days. Ninety more days.

And may the next administration do the right thing, and close this prison, no matter "how complicated it is."

Monday, October 20, 2008

Random Morrissey

Because, for no real reason that I can explain, I've had this song stuck in my head for the last couple hours. So, here, I thought I'd infect you, as well. Happy singing:

You're The One For Me, Fatty


Saturday, October 18, 2008

Levi Stubbs R.I.P.

Four Tops lead singer Levi Stubbs passed away yesterday at the age of 72. As tribute, here are a couple songs by the Mowtown legends:

"Baby I Need Your Loving"

"Reach Out (I'll Be There)"


Thursday, October 16, 2008

On Barack Obama

Courtesy of a New York Times article on race in the campaign.

"He's neither-nor. He's other. It's in the Bible. Come as one. Don't create other breeds." - Ricky Thompson, Mobile, AL.
Breeds? Seriously? We're not talking about the AKC here, we're talking about human fucking beings, you ignorant fuckneck. It's nice you can use your Bible to justify your hatred and bigotry. I really wanted the above to be the Quote of the Day, but the brief article was full of wonderfully vile and hateful gems, and I just had to share those too. For example:

"I would think of him as I would of another of mixed race. God taught the children of Israel not to intermarry. You should be proud of what you are, and not intermarry." Glenn Reynolds, Martinsville, VA.
Oh, I see. Another biblical scholar. Look, I'm no expert on theology, but I thought there was something in the Bible about pride being a bad thing. But what the hell do I know? That book is full of all kinds of crazy, contradictory crap. Whatever. Still, I somehow suspect if Obama wasn't of mixed race, you know, if he were, say, like 100% African American, Mr. Reynolds wouldn't warm up to him any quicker. And for the record, I did try to find something in the Bible about mixing races, and had no luck. If anyone wants to explain that to me, feel free.

"He's going to tear up the rose bushes and plant a watermelon patch." - James Halsey, Mobile, AL.
Hey, no Biblical rationalizations there. Just good old-fashioned racism that doesn't need any theological pedigree. Nice.

"He doesn't come from the African-American perspective; he's not of that tradition. He's not a product of any ghetto." - Kimi Oaks, Mobile, AL.
Oh, well, so long as he's not the product of any ghetto, I guess that's okay. And since he's not of the African-American tradition, that's probably okay too. I don't know what the fuck that means, but Ms. Oaks throws it out there like we should, nudge nudge wink wink and all that. If anyone wants to explain that one too, feel free as well.

"I've always been against the blacks," said [Bud] Rowell, who is in his 70s, recalling how he was arrested for throwing firecrackers in the black section of town. But now that he has three biracial grandchildren ... he said he had "found out they were human beings, too."
Wow. It took having biracial grandchildren to come to the conclusion that people of mixed ancestry were human beings. I guess better late than never. For me, I think I figured that out when I was about four. I'm not sure what excuse one has for taking five or six decades to realize what anyone with one iota of decency or sense already knows, that all human beings are, to use your words, Mr. Rowell, human beings. It's a pretty simple fucking formula, I think. Human being = Human being. For fuck's sake, it's not really complicated. At all. Unless one is willfully being ignorant.

I'm not trying to pick on Southerners here, but The South is where the story was written, and where these people were interviewed. I am sure if someone went to Seattle and asked around, they'd hear the same kind of stupid shit.

Which saddens me as much as it angers me.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

World's Greatest Dad

A self-absorbed, insensitive douchenozzle snuck behind his wife's back to name his new daughter Sarah McCain Palin. The father and mother had previously agreed upon Ava Grace as a suitable name for their new daughter, but "to get the word out" father Mark Ciptak went ahead and put Sarah McCain Palin Ciptak on the birth certificate.

Ciptak rationalized it this way: "I took one for the cause. I can't give a lot of financial support for the campaign. I do have a sign up in my yard, but I can do very little."

Yeah, way to go. Way to make that sacrifice. Glad you're getting the word out. Now everyone knows you're a duplicitous, unscrupulous douchebag with zero respect for either your wife or daughter. That's what you meant by "getting the word out", right? Because, really, no other explanation makes sense.

Saturday, October 04, 2008

By The Way

This is the worst title for a Bond movie since Octopussy.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Sandra Bernhard Cut

Sandra Bernhard has been cut from an upcoming appearance at a Boston women's shelter following her joke about Sarah Palin being gang-raped.

Bernhard said her words were taken out of context. The PR director for the shelter said "[We] don't think violence against women is a laughing matter."

It's still disappointing to hear Bernhard defend her joke. "In no way am I making any sort of joke about crimes against women — quite the contrary. I'm speaking out about someone who doesn't do enough to protect women." Sure, sure.

"I think if you look at the real issues I'm addressing, my intent becomes clear." Not so much.

Wevs, Sandra. But good on Rosie's Place, the aforementioned women's shelter, for doing the right thing.

Blasphemous Rumours

Like the eleventh plague raining down on all us Sodomites coolly lying in our Egyptian cotton sheets, Bill O'Reilly is proof that God exists. Or so says he:

"Next time you meet an atheist, tell him or her that you know a bold, fresh guy, a barbarian who was raised in a working-class home and retains the lessons he learned there.

"Then mention to that atheist that this guy is now watched and listened to, on a daily basis, by millions of people all over the world and, to boot, sells millions of books.

"Then, while the non-believer is digesting all that, ask him or her if they still don't believe there's a God!"
If O'Reilly is proof there is a God (and that is not something I'd concede just yet, not based on Bill's spurious logic), then I am sorely disappointed. I mean, seriously, this is it? No miracles? No loaves and fishes, no raising the dead? Evolution gave him thumbs No stopping bullets and saving Jules? No curing the sick, no ending suffering? Just some enormous douchenozzle getting his smirking, lying mug on TV everyday?

By that logic, Dog the Bounty Hunter is also proof there is a God. Jim Belushi too. (I'll also concede I have no knowledge of Belushi being a douchenozzle or a liar, but still, why the fuck is he on TV everyday?)

The fact that a bigoted, lying, xenophobe like O'Reilly is being broadcast around the world is in fact proof there is no God. Or if there is, He's away on business.



Random Thought: Dead Men Tell No Tales Edition

For a year, when I lived in Los Angeles, I had an annual pass to Disneyland. It was a pretty cool thing to have. I could go any day, any time to the Happiest Place On Earth™ completely free of charge. Sometimes I'd just go at lunch and ride Star Tours then go back to work. Or I'd stroll in on a Tuesday evening, buy an overpriced churro and take a spin on The Haunted Mansion. These odd hours and near-constant presence in the park afforded me some strange experiences.

Once, I was riding Pirates of the Caribbean, and a few boats back, there were a couple of rowdy "long hairs" (as my father would have called them). They were generally being obnoxious, splashing, cussing, and engaging in rowdy shenanigans. This behaviour culminated with one of them yelling "Sepultura" at the top of his lungs. A few moments later, the ride came to halt. I couldn't see their boat anymore, it was back around a bend. When the ride started up, and their boat came into view, they were gone.

Now, on occasion, I get the urge to yell "Sepultura." Pretty much at random.


Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Nutriaeconomics or, A Conversation

Melissa and I were talking the other day about Warrant, those ridiculous hair farmers who sang the ridiculous hair farmer anthem "Cherry Pie." (And no, don't ask, it's a long story.) After discussing Jani Lane and Bret Michaels, the conversation continued on something like this:

Liss: Speaking of shitty bands, Iain ran into my girlfriend C at Walgreens the other day, and she told him to tell me that there's a ticket to the New Kids on the Block reunion tour with my name on it. But get this: It's EIGHTY-TWO FUCKING DOLLARS!

Deeky: What? Huh? Who says "Tell Melissa I got her a ticket for the New Kids on the Block reunion tour!" and expects that to be good news?

Liss: Well, we used to go to NKOTB concerts when we were like thirteen or whatever, so she thought it would be fun and nostalgic. Which it would have been...for, like, forty bucks. But eighty-two?! Who do they think they are — Menudo?!

Deeky: Seriously.

Liss: Whatevs.

Deeky: You should go. And blog about it.

Liss: (laughs) I'd have to do a fundraiser to pay for the ticket. "Help send me to the New Kids reunion tour!"

Deeky: (laughs)

Liss: Eighty-two dollars — harrumph. Dude, I could get like FIVE nutria skulls for that!

Deeky: (laughs harder)

Liss: Now that I've found out a nutria skull can be bought for only thirteen bucks**, I'm measuring everything in how many nutria skulls I could buy with it. It's like how the Brits weigh themselves in stones.

Deeky: And what the fuck is that all about? What is that, fourteen pounds? What kind of number is that?

Liss: "Jesus Christ, this breadmaker is fourteen nutria skulls! I saw one in K-mart last week that was only eight nutria skulls!"

Deeky: (laughs)

Liss: I wonder how many nutria skulls one ronpaulbuxxx can buy?

Deeky: Half.

Liss: Is this the dumbest conversation in the history of humankind, do you think?

Deeky: No. People discussing Ron Paul seriously are having stupider conversations.

Liss: Fair point.

** FYI, I am often scouring eBay for post-punk 45s, the occasional pickled fetus, rare collectibles (hookahs, Zuni fetish dolls, bronzed phalluses, what have you) with which to decorate Château Deeky. My finds and discoveries are often shared with Liss.


Moore or Less

News from Hollywood:
'Slacker Uprising,' a feature-length film documenting [Michael] Moore's tour of swing states during the 2004 presidential election year, was made available for a free download instead of being released in movie theaters.

The maker of the award-winning anti-Iraq war blockbuster 'Fahrenheit 9/11,' said in a statement the gesture was "entirely as a gift to my fans."
In other words, no one wanted to distribute it. Doh!

Monday, September 22, 2008

Oh, For Fuck's Sake

"Barack Obama is someone who will lead for [LGBT voters], who will fight for them, fight for us." Remember that quote from Steve Hildebrand, Obama's deputy campaign manager? That sounded nice, I guess. How about what Obama said in his acceptance speech last month: "I know there are differences on same-sex marriage, but surely we can agree that our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters deserve to visit the person they love in the hospital and to live lives free of discrimination."

That sounded... well... I don't know if I'd call it nice, as such, but it was something. Sure, when my husband was in the ICU, it would have been great to have been able to visit him without having to lie about who I was. And yeah, thanks for making it clear that I should be able to live my life "free of discrimination."

So what's up with the Barack Obama: Faith, Family, and Values Tour? Specifically, what is up with Douglas Kmiec stumping for Obama as part of this tour? Douglas Kmiec, the man who recently authored an op-ed piece for the San Francisco Chronicle in support of California's Proposition 8. Prop 8 is the initiative that will, if passed, ban same-sex marriage in the state. Or, as Kmiec puts it, "re-secures a millennia of tradition and common sense."

Ah, yes, once again it's "tradition," "common sense," and "fuck you, faggots."

So, how am I supposed to reconcile Obama's promise of lives free of discrimination, with his tapping of an anti-gay, anti-equality bigot as his messenger in the final days of the campaign?

Saturday, September 20, 2008

A Quick Question

I was just at the grocery store, wandering through the produce aisle. I wanted to buy some fruit. I looked at the oranges and thought, hey aren't these supposed to be… umm… you know, orange?

They were a sickly pale yellow color.

I'd like some decent citrus, please.


Thursday, September 18, 2008

Kick In The Eye

For a while now I've been convinced Hurl was the worst show on television, but I've since managed to find something even more repugnant: Discovery Channel's Destroyed in Seconds. Each episode is 30 minutes of planes crashing, factories exploding, boats sinking, burning houses, collapsing buildings, auto wrecks, flames, wracked metal, carnage, destruction and death. All presented as entertainment. Check out the promo:

Or this little bit from the show's website:
From well-orchestrated implosions of massive structures, to rampaging tornadoes, catastrophic mid-air collisions and sudden terrorist attacks, no topic is too trivial or taboo for our show.
Yeah, hey, fuck you, Discovery Channel. Why don't you go ahead and just change your name to The Explosion Channel. Between this show, MythBusters' devolution from fun, quirky show to The Hey-Let's-Blow-This-Shit-Up Hour, and it's progeny, the dreadful, dreadful Smash Lab (AKA MythBusters Without The Charisma), Discovery Channel has become the number one network for exploding crap.

When they're not showing Bear Grylls drinking his own piss.

Discovery Channel's website offers up this pathetic bit of linguistic hopscotch as rationalization:
Destroyed in Seconds is not meant to just shock and entertain, but to explore the causes of mass destruction and how, when possible, families and communities bounce back from devastation.
The show isn't just meant to shock and entertain, no, not solely, just like 95% of the time. When possible they talk, as an aside, about the survivors. You know, on those rare occasions a plane bursting into flames or a rescue chopper slamming a hospital leave survivors.

I watched an episode of the show and it left me queasy. Literally. How this collection of human suffering is packaged as entertainment is beyond me.


Monday, September 15, 2008

Sarah Palin Strip Off

I have a headache, and am in no mood for this shit. Here's a quick recap: Sarah Palin Strip Off. Shotgun Willies. Just a joke. "I'm into that hot secretary look."

Fuck you, Doorman "I'm probably going to go Libertarian and screw up the whole thing" Matt, and fuck you, Shotgun Willies.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Random Thought


Defying all rational explanation, and spitting in the face of common sense, there is in the pantheon of cinema a woeful lack of films about evil ventriloquist dummies.


Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Your 4:20 Ron Paul Update

Tune in tomorrow, Shakers, Ron Paul is planning a Major Press Conference™ in Washington. According to the WSJ:

With a range of third-party candidates at his side – including the Libertarian Party's Bob Barr, independent candidate Ralph Nader, the Constitution Party's Chuck Baldwin and the Green Party's Cynthia McKinney – it's unlikely that Paul will pick just one to support. But his spokesman said to expect "something of an endorsement," with "a real effect on this fall’s election."
What's he gonna say? Who cares. I just want to know what Cynthia McKinney will be doing there. I was kind of under the impression she had higher standards. Strange bedfellows and all that, I guess.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

On Palin's Hair

Yes, Republican vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin has a lot on her plate: a pregnant teen daughter, a son on his way to Iraq, an infant with Down syndrome and a looming national election.

But must her hair suffer? With her long, straight, often pinned-up locks, Palin looks one humid day away from fronting a Kiss cover band.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"It's about 20 years out of date," said Boston stylist Mario Russo of the Alaska governor's 'do. "Which goes to show how off she might be on current events."
Nice. Her shabby looks are an obvious reflection of her limited intellect. WTF? Seriously, do we really need to do this?
We know the former Miss Alaska runner-up’s stance on on stem cells and teaching creationism in schools, but what's her position on scrunchies vs. banana clips?
Yes, what is her position on scrunchies? There's a question for the ages. I'm sure the Pulitzer committee is already eyeing this piece.

Someone wake me when the election is over.

Back To The Future

Remember raves? You know, a bunch of sweaty kids sucking on glow sticks and jerking spasmodically to the latest Fatboy Slim twelve inch? (It's a testament to E that there was a drug powerful enough to make this tolerable.) But raves are no longer fashionable, and yet the Chemical Brothers continue to release albums.

What about flash mobs? Remember those? That was something born out of the early days of text messaging when some dumbass got it into his or her head that they could con a thousand people to show up at Quizno's or Glamour Shots or the Monterey Bay Aquarium all at once just by using a cell phone. It was pretty damn stupid, in retrospect, but so was techno music and rave culture. Live and learn.

Not that this stopped a group of English teens (who've apparently laid their knives down just long enough to shake their pasty white groove thangs) from descending en masse to a local Ikea for an impromptu rave near the woodchip endtables. And why? Because they're idiots, obviously. Oh, and the site used to house a discotheque.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008


Brave Hillary Swank is reportedly putting on weight, and lots of it, for an upcoming role.

"She'll gain 20 to 30 pounds," we're told by a source close to the production. "It's no sweat. She's played a man before. She can handle anything."
What a trooper.

Hey, she butched up and played a dude, so she can do something as harrowing as putting on a few pounds. How courageous of her, to play someone not rail thin. That takes guts, no pun intended. Or not. Wevs.

Seriously, I am sick of hearing how brave and heroic it is for someone to step outside Hollywood's notion of beauty. It's such bullshit. Besides, we all know what true heroism is.


Public Service Announcement

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Don LaFontaine RIP

You probably don't know his name, but you know his voice.


Thursday, August 28, 2008

Obama Wants The Gay Vote, Sort Of

Obama wants the LGBT vote, insists campaign manager Steve Hildebrand. Just not enough to ask for it. Not directly anyway.

Speaking at the Dem Convention's LGBT caucus yesterday Hildebrand said had this to say:

I believe that our campaign has not done the effective job it needs to do to persuade and convince LGBT voters that Barack Obama is someone who will lead for them, who will fight for them, fight for us. That’s a failure on behalf of our campaign in my opinion, and I've played a role in it. What we need is for all of you to be our voices in our communities and to work tirelessly to give every single day, as much time as you can give, to know Barack’s record and to know John McCain's failed record and to go out and talk to people who care about the future of LGBT people in this country.
Here's the thing. I know Obama's record. And, as I've pointed out recently, that record includes McClurkin and Meeks. But really, aside from that, what is the campaign saying? That McCain is worse than Obama? Yeah, we know. We all know that. We've never said otherwise. But you know what? That old saw is not exactly change I can believe in. It's the same old bullshit I've been hearing for most of my life. And I need something more than that.

But should I expect it? Not according to The Advocate: "For any gay voter waiting to hear someone from the Obama campaign ask for their support, there it was." Really? That's it? Not even a word from the candidate himself? That's nice.

Michelle Obama did speak at the LGBT delegate luncheon on Tuesday, and spoke for nearly 30 minutes. Too bad Michelle isn't running for president. Too bad the man who wants the LGBT vote couldn't deliver that request himself.

As the article also notes, "[t]hree major convention speeches – those of Sen. Hillary Clinton, President Bill Clinton, and Sen. Ted Kennedy – have included references to LGBT Americans." It remains to be seen if Obama will add his name to that list.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

To Nora Ephron And Friends

Nora Ephron has a new post up at Huffington lambasting Hillary Clinton for last night's performance. Was Ephron unhappy with Clinton being deferential, strong, gracious, persuasive, or any of those other fine and appropriate adjectives Liss used? No. Ephron's ire is with what Clinton didn't do last night. (You know, aside from Clinton generally being an opportunistic narcissist.)

...She never once referred to Roe vs. Wade. She never once mentioned choice. She never once said the truth, which is that any Hillary supporter who doesn't understand that this issue alone is the reason to vote for Obama has no business pretending to be a Democrat.

Ah yes, there we are. Again. Roe. Roe! Blah blah blah. It's "this issue alone" that, according to Ephron, should define Democrats, and by extension, the Left as a whole. But I'm going to kindly disagree with that. (For the record, I am an unreserved ally in defending women's reproductive rights, and will do everything I can to make sure that all women have affordable, safe access to every reproductive choice that should be available to them, but Roe is an issue will never affect me the way it will women.) I'm a gay man, and so refer Mrs. Ephron to one Donnie McClurkin. And when she's done making herself familiar with McClurkin, I'd like to point her toward James T. Meeks.

You see, there are other things that are important to me; this isn't a one issue election. And I have a very big problem voting for a candidate that uses anti-gay bigots as part of their campaign, regardless of the threat McCain may pose to Roe v. Wade.

But that's just me.

While we're on the subject of things that are important to different people, let me address the Obama supporters out there who insist on repeatedly telling me how wonderful their candidate is, while dismissing Clinton out of hand. Yes, you like him. I get that. That's okay. That's your choice. I know you had lots of very good reasons, legitimate reasons, you've supported him instead of Clinton (or Edwards, or whomever). So, by that very same token, I'd hope you be able to see that I, and everyone else, had very good reasons, legitimate reasons, for supporting someone else.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The Geek

This is an odd one. For a supposed sex flick, there's not too much screwing going on, and what of it there is features a guy in Sasquatch suit. And as interesting as that may sound, it isn't at all.

I'm not an expert or anything, but if seven minutes of your fifteen minute film consists of footage of people walking, and your film isn't about people walking, then something is terribly, terribly wrong. You see, this movie is about Bigfoot. This movie is about fucking. This movie is about Bigfoot fucking.

The Geek opens with some text about Sasquatch, and footage from someone's home movies, seemingly taken while on vacation in the Pacific Northwest. This partially explains the credit "Filmed on Location in Washington, Oregon and Alberta." Either that or my copy was missing a few reels*. The text is followed by narration about Sasquatch. Yes, this film is about Bigfoot, in case you missed that. Just don't expect to see him anytime soon.

Oh, and then comes the walking. And walking. And walking. And walking. And walking. And walking. And walking. All this accompanied by stock music. Six hikers, three men and three women, traverse up hills, through trees, into the brush.

After half the film is taken up with footage of them walking, the hikers finally stumble upon the first evidence of Sasquatch. The leader of the expedition describes it as a footprint, and we'll take his word for it that's what the ripple in the dirt is. A few moments later, they find a pile of Bigfoot turds and decide this must be the beast's camp.

And they're right.

As they watch the nearby tree line, they suddenly spy Bigfoot. Quite clearly it's just a guy in a very fake gorilla suit sans the head, with hair glued on his face. He grunts and growls, in his poorly-dubbed way, but he doesn't frighten the hikers. No, if he did that, there'd be no Bigfoot fucking, would there?

So, one of the hiker guys grabs one of his lady friends by the hand and pulls her toward Bigfoot. He coaxes her into making contact with the beast. Demurely, she approaches and holds out her delicate hand. Bigfoot sniffs her politely, then, overcome, shoves her to the ground.

The creature rips her panties off, flips her over on her belly and mounts her Bigfoot style. (N.B.: Bigfoot style is identical to doggy style.) The young lady tries to resist at first, but soon enough her expression changes to one of ecstasy. Yup, this girl likes the Bigfoot cock. Now, let me tell you, Bigfoot isn't going to be penning any books on the technique of lovemaking, as he's spent and done in about a minute.

It's only then that the three men in the party attempt to intervene. Of course, they attack the beast with the time-honored strategy of coming at him one by one, thereby allowing him to repeatedly put the smackdown on them. Bigfoot's fighting technique is as nuanced as his lovemaking technique. Whenever one of the hikers approaches, he grabs them by the head and shoves them into the dirt.

This goes on nearly as long as the sex scene, but is only mildly less interesting, and after a time Bigfoot scurries off, presumably bored as the rest of us. It's only then the other hikers lend a hand... to one of the injured men. The girl who got raped, I guess she's on her own.

All that is left now is the very long scene where they all walk out of the woods.

Directed by Unknown • Not Rated • Year Unknown • 15 minutes

*After to a bit of research, I discovered The Geek is available in two versions. There is a longer cut that includes two hardcore sex scenes between the hikers before they meet Bigfoot. I can't imagine this improves the film any.