Fuck My Year vol. 2009

No one has to remind them that they are alive.

saw a movie where 2 teenage girls murdered an old woman. surprisingly unslick yet somehow not as harrowing as i was led to believe. Maybe it's cause nothing moves me anymore. heart died this year. i need the space more than the object anyway. fill it with more avarice and prurience and violence. drop down in a crucifix form. 2000 years and that's the best we can come up with. white lights and a jesus christ pose.

haven't written much this month. haven't shared myself. why fucking bother. none of you are interested. why should you be? trailers for gory foreign films and peepee dance jpegs are infinitely more interesting. i'm not kidding. this blog has a handful of followers. that's a handful more than my workshop blog. maybe you just don't know what to say to that shit. i get that a lot.

that's why i am where i am today. alone. fearful of expectation, cause all it leads to is disappointment. in a way... it's very liberating... almost demonic in its empowerment. perhaps i've moved beyond the unrequited desires of yore, alleviating myself of inevitably meaningless "depth and sensitivity" and just embraced the fact that i'm little more than a hopelessly misanthropic sadsack with delusions of literacy, upper echelon tastes, and artistic integrity.

i do know now that i am not "doomed" to be alone.... i think i'm actually welcoming it. this could all change with one coy glance from a comely co-ed... cause Yaweh knows i am not wedded to these "ideals". they are disposable. maybe not... maybe they just mutate into something else entirely.

perhaps i'm just a life support system for a cock. aren't we all?

there's only hours left to this decade. what a fucking monster it has been. a para-dimensional crocodile rape-baby with serrated iron dildos for teeth and concentrated nitrous oxide jizm erupting from a Siamese volcano cock. i have no plans. no expectations. no hope. no delusions. just me, baby. just me.

Finally, i wasn't waiting.



Fuck My Year.

2010 EDIT:

oh yeah; FUCK SNUGGIES.

We are the Sprocket Holes vol. 125

And The Monsters Weep...horror guru CHAS BALUN passes away

by Sean "The Butcher" Smithson, December 30, 2009 7:43 PM

Action, Cult, Exploitation, Horror, Sci-Fi & Fantasy, Thriller, USA & Canada

I sadly report that iconic horror tastemaker Chas Balun has passed away after a lengthy battle with cancer. Chas was renowned for his magazine DEEP RED, which tread bloodier ground than it's high profile counterpart FANGORIA.

A looming figure in the underground gore scene, Balun not only was a film critic of note, but also one hell of an artist. Many a creature features kid have worn his designs, which were printed up by horror t-shirt company Rotten Cotten. Balun was a staple of the convention circuit, and is as familiar to fans as any actor or director. Always good for a conversation on the finer points of all things fear film related, and just one hell of a nice guy, he will be sorely missed. The scene is the worse for his loss.
From turning an entire generation onto Fulci via his columns and correspondence, to dumping a beer on the head one particularly obnoxious and over important film journalist, Chas was for lack of a better term, the shit.

Our sincere condolences to family and friends.

Take a moment to remember Chas, or to initiate yourself into his warped psyche by watching the trailer for the film that could have been, CHUNKBLOWER, which he wrote and was directed by the infamous Jim Van Bebber. You'll find it embedded below.

Just like Chas.

check these posts from COLORS OF THE DARK and EXPLOITATION NATION for a lot more on Chas Balun. and check AMAZON for some of his books.

Fuck YOUR Life vol. 4

this is Jeff Dunham. he has a top rated show on Comedy Central.

seriously... fuck this guy.

let's forget that ventriloquism exists somewhere between miming and karaoke in terms of severely annoying socially reprehensible behavior vaguely masquerading as a creative activity. let's forget that if Dunahm's "characters" (Ackmed the Terrorist! the Old Man who hates everything! the drunk redneck!) were any more broadly drawn and stereotypical Helen Keller would be able to call him on his hackitude. Lets forget that enough people are watching this garbage that it was the channel's most watched debut of all time.

actually... let's not forget. let's sit on these facts... run them over and over again in our minds until blood shoots from our nose ala DRAG ME TO HELL. until our fingernails violently retract into our hands, up our arms, and into our lungs, slicing our muscles like deli meats. until we vomit until the vomit is us. only then will i begin to understand the popularity of Jeff Dunham.

Fuck YOUR Life.

We are the Sprocket Holes vol. 124

Movies that shouldn't have sequels, but do.

part 3: some Cult Classics.

HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER



spawned one sequel; HENRY 2: MASK OF SANITY



THE HILLS HAVE EYES



spawned 1 official sequel; THE HILLS HAVE EYES PART II



and finally; THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW



spawned 1 sequel: SHOCK TREATMENT

Double You, Tea F. vol. 93