Tulsi Gabbard Is the Only Woman Left in the 2020 Presidential Race
*pic is not actually Tulsi Gabbard, but it is in fact Dana Vespoli.
Friday, March 6, 2020
Awwwww Yeah vol. 149 / U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 234
progressive voters have been slow to rally behind Gabbard, in part because of her ties to anti-Muslim Hindu nationalists, controversial past stances on LGBTQ+ rights, and support from conservative figures like Steve Bannon and Ron Paul. Gabbard is currently polling at roughly 1%, but the support she does command seems indefatigable even in the face of near-certain defeat.
*pic is not actually Tulsi Gabbard, but it is in fact Dana Vespoli.
*pic is not actually Tulsi Gabbard, but it is in fact Dana Vespoli.
Thursday, March 5, 2020
We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 366(6: SATANATRIX DEMONPOOPS)
you’ll want to get acquainted with Danzig. But you don’t need to be acquainted with his music, really - it doesn't really factor into the movie. Instead, focus on Danzig the weird celebrity: the Danzig who maintains steadfast self-seriousness even as he descends into what for anyone else would be self-parody; the Danzig who believes anything he does is revolutionary and system-bucking simply because he’s doing it; the Danzig who is probably enraged that the horror/punk/metal scene has been mainstreamed enormously since he arrived on it. You have to realise Danzig considers Verotika to be ingenious and radical, because the actual movie is pretty tame - which only makes it funnier. Though its problems are present in other films, only an outpouring of Danzig's id could have made the highly specific film that is Verotika.
How To Prepare For Glenn Danzig’s Trash Opus VEROTIKA
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Monday, March 2, 2020
U.S.A.! U.S.A.! vol. 233
Disarm the Deep State is a fund established by Jim Watkins, the operator of the hate-filled message board 8chan that the mysterious leader of the QAnon conspiracy theory has made his home.
The fund’s website says it’s the first super PAC “dedicated to removing shadow government actors” and that its mission is to “mobilize a community of patriots in order to remove power from Deep State members.”
QAnon Now Has Its Very Own Super PAC
Sunday, March 1, 2020
We Are The Sprocket Holes vol. 365
stand-out viewings for the month of February
(January)
RABID (2019, dir Jen and Sylvia Sokska
while its no doubt a return-to-form for the gorehound charmers, who have spent an unfortunate amount of their post-American Mary good will slumming it on WWE Films productions and stabs at reality television, i still can't help but acknowledge the failings of their unfortunately uninspiring Cronenberg fan-film, which derives its worship almost exclusively on the surface molecules of the auteur's universe, completely disregarding his talent for creating characters that feel adult and believable rather than the stock monster movie archetypes that populate the Soska's iteration of the material. great effects work, though.
DANIEL ISN'T REAL (2019, dir Adam Egypt Mortimer)
Drop Dead Fred went up Jacob's Ladder and when he came back down he had turned into your worst nightmare of a PUA.
THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT DIRECTOR'S CUT (2018, dir. Lars Von Trier )
the worn out trope of the serial killer as an encyclopedic arbiter of class and culture gets thoroughly decimated as only Von Trier knows how.
THE DEVIL (1981, dir Jen-Chieh Chang)
a maggoty gem from the Far East.
FROWNLAND (2007, dir Ronald Bronstein)
a deliberately frustrating collage of intermittent explosive disorder and unyielding panic attacks that will have you tasting copper half way through attempts at recalling its message.
BLACK CIRCLE BOYS (1997, dir Matthew Carnahan)
the mythologized demonization of Ricky Kasso gets a late 90s wet look makeover that unfortunately plays like a mediocre cable TV pilot remake of Jim Van Bebber's My Sweet Satan.
THE GIRL ON THE THIRD FLOOR (2019, dir. Travis Stevens)
the Money Pit as interpreted by Lucio Fulci.
WE (2018, dir. Rene Eller)
mean.
NIGHT OF FEAR (1973)
compact stalk-and-slash stripped to meat and bone.
COLOR OUT OF SPACE (2019, dir Richard Stanley)
a corrosive mutant of overwhelming cosmic phosphorus shock-loads the senses until its sight can no longer be described as beautiful or ugly... heavenly or hellish... only as a force that supplants everything.... interloping definition... re-contextualizing the smattering miasma of matter and its reverse into one concentrated blast of succulent unknowing. good to have you back, Richard.
(January)
while its no doubt a return-to-form for the gorehound charmers, who have spent an unfortunate amount of their post-American Mary good will slumming it on WWE Films productions and stabs at reality television, i still can't help but acknowledge the failings of their unfortunately uninspiring Cronenberg fan-film, which derives its worship almost exclusively on the surface molecules of the auteur's universe, completely disregarding his talent for creating characters that feel adult and believable rather than the stock monster movie archetypes that populate the Soska's iteration of the material. great effects work, though.
Drop Dead Fred went up Jacob's Ladder and when he came back down he had turned into your worst nightmare of a PUA.
the worn out trope of the serial killer as an encyclopedic arbiter of class and culture gets thoroughly decimated as only Von Trier knows how.
a maggoty gem from the Far East.
a deliberately frustrating collage of intermittent explosive disorder and unyielding panic attacks that will have you tasting copper half way through attempts at recalling its message.
the mythologized demonization of Ricky Kasso gets a late 90s wet look makeover that unfortunately plays like a mediocre cable TV pilot remake of Jim Van Bebber's My Sweet Satan.
the Money Pit as interpreted by Lucio Fulci.
mean.
compact stalk-and-slash stripped to meat and bone.
a corrosive mutant of overwhelming cosmic phosphorus shock-loads the senses until its sight can no longer be described as beautiful or ugly... heavenly or hellish... only as a force that supplants everything.... interloping definition... re-contextualizing the smattering miasma of matter and its reverse into one concentrated blast of succulent unknowing. good to have you back, Richard.
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