#gorenoise vol. 20

HBO Makes ‘Hellraiser’ Series Development Deal; ‘Halloween’s David Gordon Green To Direct Early Eps

NERRRRRRRD! vol. 105

Since concluding Faust: Love of the Damned in 2013, the Rebel Studios creators never stopped working together on characters and stories; collaborations we’ve played with include:

• Marquis De Sade vs. monsters both human and inhuman
• A modern gothic centered around a creepy cult (Correction, we actually have two modern gothics centered around creepy cults)
• A treatment for a film about a revenge killer on a locked down military base
• A retro-futuro cosmic sex dream ala Metal Hurlant/Heavy Metal
• A Savage Tales inspired alternative GN with Faust, Claire, M, Blythe, The Wrath and other Rebel Studios characters
• The pilot chapter of an Elemental action series
• A GN for all ages about a young law student who wakes up one day as Brooklyn the Barbarian™
• Even a plot for an improvisational web cam crime drama

You haven’t seen these stories?

No. Not yet.

PREVIEW: That Time Rebel Studios Did a Con Book the Night Before All Cons Were Cancelled

#gorenoise vol. 19

Domestic Violence, Child Marriage, and Genital Mutilation: Coronavirus Could Be a Catastrophe for Women

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 252

Grenon styles himself as “archbishop” of Genesis II – a Florida-based outfit that claims to be a church but which in fact is the largest producer and distributor of chlorine dioxide bleach as a “miracle cure” in the US. He brands the chemical as MMS, “miracle mineral solution”, and claims fraudulently that it can cure 99% of all illnesses including cancer, malaria, HIV/Aids as well as autism.

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Since the start of the pandemic, Genesis II has been marketing MMS as a cure to coronavirus. It advises users, including children, to mix three to six drops of bleach in water and drink it.

In his weekly televised radio show, posted online on Sunday, Grenon read out the letter he wrote to Trump. He said it began: “Dear Mr President, I am praying you read this letter and intervene.”

Revealed: leader of group peddling bleach as coronavirus 'cure' wrote to Trump this week

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 251

Trump suggests injecting disinfectant and touts power of sunlight to beat disease

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 250

McConnell says no ‘blue state’ coronavirus bailouts, effectively telling New York to drop dead

We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 379

The first two oeuvres of a cinematic series spanning 14 parts, DAU.Natasha and DAU.Degeneration, were unveiled at Berlinale 2020 and soon became the talk of the town, mostly for their controversial nature revolving around un-simulated sex and abuse allegations. The project that originally started as a biopic about Soviet scientist Lev Landau mutated into gargantuan proportions, not just reconstructing Landau's life but creating an alternate reality of its own.

Now Streaming: DAU, Controversial Project May Be a Work of Genius or Madman

#gorenoise vol.18

A zombie blowfish, a hideous mermaid and a lucky charm made out of a dead man’s finger are all competing to be crowned the creepiest exhibits in the world after an archaeological museum in the north of England challenged curators during the lockdown to showcase their most sinister objects.

Museums hold Twitter showdown to find world's creepiest exhibit

nous sommes le volume des trous de pignon 378: Phiippe Nahon (1938 - 2020)

Philippe Nahon by Gaspar Noé: to you who won't speak to me anymore

Grandstand. Philippe, my great friend, I just learned that you died, that you will no longer be, that your memory and your life have melted into the great void, where there is no more meaning, neither time nor space. I will no longer have the sweet chance of hugging you, like a month ago, on the eve of general confinement. Since that afternoon when we were able to laugh one last time together, time has stopped. An invisible enemy has made our city a strange ghostly, melancholy paradise. We sleep. We eat. We are still sleeping. We follow the news. We count the sick. We count the dead. And today your name is added to this long list which continues to grow. We are like in a dream, repetitive, in which we believe without really believing it. From now on, the time which built you and which allowed me to meet you will continue for others, which will in turn die out.

We, we met thirty years ago, I dreamed of having fun making movies, like Buñuel or like Franju. You, twenty-five years old my elder, you have been doing it for a long time. When you returned from this dirty colonial war that you hadn't managed to desert and which earned you three years of disciplinary camp, you had started to make films with Reggiani and Melville. Me, I wanted to make a first film with a male character who is the quintessence of what I believed to be a normal man, therefore complex and most often lost. This "hero" must have been much older than me. He was a real man he needed, in his fifties, with a universal and timeless face like that of Jean Gabin. I wanted a Gaul, direct and sentimental. I saw a photo of you and the love at first sight was immediate. You came to my house, a little soaked, and funny in front of this young stranger with inaudible diction. You dreamed of real roles. Play, transform, have fun, make new friends.

As a child with your family you had survived the Second War and later, this time alone, that of Algeria in which you had been forced to participate. You had survived the pleasures of alcohol and tobacco. And even to the frustration of not being able to embody other men as charismatic as you. We adopted immediately and I introduced you to the one who would play your daughter. In no time the matter was closed. We left victorious! We did  Carne.You had become my confused and human butcher, too human. You brought so much grace to this character who, by his actions and his thoughts, was your antithesis, that after this first package, rather than shooting a feature film with real means, I wanted only one thing: continue the same story with you, a continuation whether short or long, but with you, and pushing ever further this cornered and enraged man who could not help but love. The title came very quickly:  Alone against everyone.It was to be another medium, but after two years of small, scattered and mowed shoots, this sequel has become a film in its own right. Even more than before we had become great allies, true friends who could ask for anything, except the money we did not have. The film would once again be carried by the chaotic thoughts of the butcher, with that spectacular deep, warm and anachronistic voice that was yours. And the only time you said no to me was when we recorded that voice over, which said,  "Love, friendship, it doesn't exist. This is all a pipe. ”

You, you believed very deeply in friendship and it seemed inconceivable to you to pronounce these words. I agreed with you, even if I protested that the butcher was a man in depression and that he was not you anyway. You recorded it anyway. Our eyes met and I understood at this moment that this character was actually a mixture of the two of us. That we fought together, among all and against all, to make the most of this area of ​​transgression that cinema can be. We proudly finished this film, then you made many others, mainly with young directors who also identified with you. And when I was able to do my first commercial production,  Irreversible,I wanted the film to open with you, and with plans closer than for all the other characters in the story. We stayed together all these years, like two brothers or a nephew and his favorite uncle. Browning had met his Lon Chaney, Scorsese his De Niro. And me, far from these giants, I had met you anyway, and I could never have asked for better.

A few months ago, I bought myself a new camera to shoot a semi-documentary epilogue to the life of our butcher. After your accident, you had trouble memorizing words. So I was happy to imagine a film without pre-written dialogues.

But the world had a big surprise in store for us. These past few days, you may have glimpsed a future that doesn't really work. Our streets are empty, and under the sun, people are afraid of the present as well as the future. This non-living virus that feeds on the lives of others has made its way to your body already very weakened by other ills, and has carried you away. I hope your last moments were sweet. Painkillers sometimes bring peace that you would not otherwise find. In the current situation, there were no final hugs, you had to go alone. There is no funeral, no ceremony. I will not be able to cry with your loved ones. For now, everyone will grieve, alone and as best they can. Alone, and without you.

Life passes. But not the love of your wife Elisabeth or your daughter Nelly or your grandsons Gabin and Nino, any more than my unfiltered friendship or the empathy of the spectators, filmmakers and friends who were lucky enough to discover you on a screen or in life. The men leave, but hopefully some of their traces remain. Your voice will no longer warm us but its echoes will always resonate in me.

Ah, Philippe, what did we have fun! Friendship exists. You were right.

We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 377

previously on We Are The Sprocket Holes

AMAZON WANTS TO HELP SXSW MOVIES, BUT FILMMAKERS AREN'T BUYING IT

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 249

The 

Anti-Lockdown 

Protests Are 

Getting Weird

#gorenoise vol. 17

Cannibalism suspected in stabbing death of Brooklyn man by son — body mutilated, internal organs missing: sources

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 248

DONALD TRUMP LISTS VINCE MCMAHON AS ADVISOR TO HELP RESTART US ECONOMY

Negation Aspiration vol. 216

For the most part, kids of the 1980s and 1990s did it right: They avoided drugs and alcohol as adolescents. They went to college in record numbers. They sought stable, meaningful jobs and stable, meaningful careers. A lot of good that did. Studies have shown that young workers entering the labor force in a recession—as millions of Millennials did—absorb large initial earnings losses that take years and years to fade. Every 1-percentage-point bump in the unemployment rate costs new graduates 7 percent of their earnings at the start of their careers, and 2 percent of their earnings nearly two decades later. The effects are particularly acute for workers with less educational attainment; those who are least advantaged to begin with are consigned to permanently lower wages.

Millennials now are facing the second once-in-a-lifetime downturn of their short careers. The first one put them on a worse lifetime-earnings trajectory and blocked them out of the asset market. The second is sapping their paychecks just as they enter their peak-earnings years, with 20 million kids relying on them, too. There’s no good news in a recession, and no good news in a pandemic. For Millennials, it feels like there is never any good news at all.

Millennials Don’t Stand a Chance

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 247

Why does President Trump want to mine on the Moon?

Books.... are FUN vol. 000000

Especially now that life is presided over by a lethal viral pandemic, it’s hard to even glance at the news without coming across a story that could be the result of some kind of Ballard-inspired role-playing exercise. A luxury cruiseliner quarantined in San Francisco bay, its well-heeled passengers confined to their cabins for weeks on end. Holidaymakers on lockdown at a quarantined hotel in Tenerife after an Italian doctor comes down with coronavirus. A world of isolated individuals rarely leaving their homes, keeping a wary distance from one another in public, communicating with their friends and loved ones via exclusively technological means. These situations are so Ballardian as to be in the realm of copyright infringement.

Twenty-first century life was already Ballardian. The rapid transition, under the new viral order, into further extremes of technological alienation has only made it more so. Western Europe is now a vast quarantined sprawl of empty streets and deserted motorways. People are confined to their homes, communicating almost exclusively via electronic means. Face-masked shoppers in the aisles of Marks & Spencer keep a wary distance from one another while stockpiling halloumi and organic wines against the coming tribulations. There is widely shared video footage of a pampered little showdog being walked through abandoned streets by aerial drones, operated by a pet owner too fearful of contagion to leave the house. All of it is unadulterated Ballard.

Why we are living in JG Ballard’s world

Awwww Yeah vol. 154

Florida Woman Arrested for Distributing Porn-Filled Easter Eggs to Random Homes: Police

NERRRRRRRD! vol. 104

Ruggero 

Deodato 

and Fantastico 

Studio 

Announce 

Upcoming 

‘Cannibal 

Holocaust’ 

Video Game

We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 376

What is driving the rise in extreme 

cinema?

Film-makers are increasingly turning to the violent, provocatively slow or viscerally repulsive

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 246

In the course of three days, Trump fired an IG for telling the truth, attacked another for exposing the totality of a health care pandemic, and removed another in a brazen effort to avoid being held accountable for how trillions of taxpayer dollars will be allocated. The sum of these actions is nothing short of blatant corruption in plain sight. Free from the limitations of accountability, there is nothing stopping the president from turning the so-called “Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act” (CARES Act) into a $2 trillion personal slush fund.

Trump feels empowered to obliterate the guardrails of checks and balances. Bit by bit, he has stripped away the levers of oversight until there's nothing left. It started by ignoring congressional subpoenas for his financial records. It continued as Trump refused to cooperate with the House impeachment investigation, stonewalling Congress’ attempts to hear witness testimony and conduct depositions with administration officials close to the president. And now he is leading a purge of the final remaining frontier of oversight — the inspectors general.

It may be hard to see the forest through the trees in this time of social distancing, but make no mistake about it, our democracy is in the midst of a three-alarm fire. The highest court in the land has effectively been hijacked — serving only the interests of Donald Trump. Congress is no longer a co-equal branch of government, a result of Trump’s toxic brand of obstruction.

By taking a wrecking ball to independent oversight, Trump has made the presidency into a dictatorship. At this point, the only recourse we will have left to save our democracy, repair the institutions of government, and restore accountability to the American people, is to vote in November to save “the soul of this nation.” That is, assuming Trump, the Republicans and the Supreme Court let us.

Irony is alive, oversight is dead

Oversight erased, Supreme Court hijacked: Trump turns the presidency into a dictatorship

Trump has stripped away the levers of independent oversight until there's nothing left. Our democracy is in the midst of a three-alarm fire.

We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 375

‘Baskin’ 

Director’s 

Post-Apocalyptic 

‘Girl With No 

Mouth’ 

Born With 

Missing 

Body Parts 

[Trailer]

Negation Aspiration vol. 215

I’m not sure how to say this, exactly, but the Firefly Fun House match on night two of WrestleMania 36 was art. I’m not saying that to be twee, or to do a hacky “actually pro wrestling is an art form you philistines” thing. I truly believe it was art, because unlike some of even the best professional wrestling matches, it challenged me. It required a second viewing, and a frame-by-frame breakdown to understand it on the level upon which I believe it was intended to be understood. It contains complex character work, introspection, and a deep history lesson from WWE, a company we (and especially I) don’t give credit to or expect to present ANY of those things in its product.

I’m going to try to break it down here and make sense of it, both for you and for myself. Keep in mind that I could be completely off on all of this, but hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. Stick with me until we get to the end.

The Best And Worst Of WWE WrestleMania 36: Understanding The Firefly Fun House Match

less a classic match than an existential post-modern nightmare TV deconstruction of the dominant paradigms that guide not just the past 35 years of mainstream pro-wrestling narratives, but indeed all the forms of hero worship that consume collective populist mythology:

"That’s what the past 15 years of WWE was built on. Convincing kids that the best person was the one who could be the funniest, hurt you the most, and make you feel the worst."

taking the long-time viewer back to a time when these "icons" were all wonder & magic & right about everything, only to snap-propel them forward to a present where those once celebrated idols, when held away from the carefully placed light of their fabricated contexts, are revealed to be incalculably malignant hypocrites... that their vulgar cruelty, vicious narcissism, spiteful insensitivity, and instantaneous deference to raw ballistic anger when faced with the rare instance of something not going their way was not only tolerated but rewarded simply because they were conventionally attractive or moderately witty or had more arms around them or they were just louder and bigger than you.

please read Brandon Stroud's write-up above for a better look.

#gorenoise vol. 16

French newspapers Le Parisien and Le Dauphiné Libéré report that the remains of 80-year-old Jean-Paul Fournier were found on Wednesday, after being alerted by relatives. His wife, an elderly sick woman was upstairs when the body was discovered. He was disemboweled and shot in the head with an arrow.

Designer of DRAGONFORCE Logo Accused Of Disemboweling His 80-Year-Old Father

Negation Aspiration vol. 214

This Is Not the Apocalypse You Were Looking For

Negation Aspiration vol. 213 / We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 374

Sean, the first person Moyer contacted for the documentary, begins the film by saying (rather self-deprecatingly), “For context, I’m 5-foot 6-inches and live in a one-bedroom apartment with my mom.” He lists his height before telling anything else about himself, an insecurity that is generally associated with phrenological beliefs by incels and some other men on the internet about dating and attraction—namely, that height, race and bone structure determine men’s worth and desirability to women. Before Reddit boards like r/incel, r/foreveralone, and others, the /r9k/ board on 4chan was where, as Sean put it, “the most hopeless and miserable people congregate to flirt with their despair.” It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, to wallow in one’s own misery that nothing will get better, yet it provides a sense of community to express feelings that these young men don’t feel they can express in the real world.

Inside the Male-Dominated Meme Hijacked by Lib-Bashing Trumpsters

We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 373

AMAZON & SXSW LAUNCH PRIME VIDEO PRESENTS THE SXSW 2020 FILM FESTIVAL COLLECTION

Awwwww Yeah vol. 153

The very first page of the online application says that in order to be an “eligible entity” that can receive monetary relief from the bill, an applicant cannot “present live performances of a prurient sexual nature or derive directly or indirectly more than de minimis gross revenue through the sale of products or services, or the presentation of any depictions or displays, of a prurient sexual nature.”

Prurient, which is defined by Oxford as “having or encouraging an excessive interest in sexual matters,” is a vague categorization that broadly includes thousands of workers in the U.S. As stated, the clause excludes everyone who works in the legal (and, worth noting, booming) sex industry including strippers, porn performers, producers, directors, sex toy manufactures and many others. It’s unclear whether this clause includes other professions that don’t explicitly deal in the sex industry, but do cover subjects that are of a “prurient sexual nature” such as sex therapists and authors of erotica novels.

Legal Sex Workers And Others In Adult Industry Denied Coronavirus Aid

THE NEW NORMAL; same as the Old Normal, now with no fun (but you get to wear cool masks!)

in case you thought the viral leng t'che being performed on human civilization right now might actually soften and warm the hardened cold hearts of the relentlessly unforgiving puritans that call the shots around here (despite all the solipsistic lame-brained twaddle you hear from toddler-cocked "provocateurs" on the far-right side of the collective spectrum, who still insist that SJWs are controlling the universe because the thrice regurgitated "tranny 'n fag" jokes of their favorite wearyingly angry podcasters  land with a thud).

Nothing. Fucking. Matters.

Negation Aspiration vol. 212

Security cameras inside the train’s cab captured him hurtling toward the end of the tracks, the affidavit says. He made no attempt to pull back the throttle, no attempt to engage the brakes, instead putting the train in full speed.

At the last minute, Moreno lit a flare. He looked up at the camera, raising his middle finger to it. Then, just before the train smashed through the concrete barriers, he stuck the flare out the window, keeping it there all the way through impact.

He told the detectives, “I can’t wait to see the video.”

Engineer intentionally crashes train near hospital ship Mercy, believing in weird coronavirus conspiracy, feds say