Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Quit being so f--king mysterious.

Election season is a real punch in the dick. And even if you don't have a dick, I'm sure there's a dick you'd like to punch. Candidates spend hundreds of millions of dollars vividly describing the limitless Hell we've found ourselves in, or will find ourselves in, assuming the other party wins. But cast your vote for me, angel, and we can both ascend together.

But that miserable f--king Hell is surely a relative place, right?, as likely half the people either didn't think it was so bad, or, maybe worse, didn't know until you told them. And we do this awful dance every four years, hoping things will change. 

Or...stay the same. For the most part.

It's like this endless f--king loop, that while truly inspiring (or awful) at times, ultimately ends up with all of us right back where we started. Which begs the question...

...why bother in the first place?

Seriously, that tagline should probably be plastered all over the polls in Nov.
Fine, Southbound, a 2015 horror-thriller, isn't actually about a certain political party here in the US, but it may or may not share some key features with it. Namely, narrow-minded murderous cults, a person who should not be in any hospital performing surgeries, and most obvious, a pair of decaying skeletons, flying over the Midwest terrifyingly eviscerating what's left of humanity. 

Though I counted four, apparently Southbound, something of a horror compilation, contains five interlocking stories, all set in a nameless shithole of a desert town. 

Our first story opens with a bang, as two bloody and battered dudes attempt to leave the aforementioned town, after some gnarly shit apparently went down. Off in the distance, some scary ass demon/skeleton thing is waiting for them, and eventually things get...well, messy.

From there, we get a couple of groovy minutes with a girl band, until their van breaks down along an isolated stretch of dreary, desert highway. Along comes a horribly Ned and Maude Flanders-esque creepy couple, promising to take the girls to the local mechanic...in the morning. After freshening up at their house, of course, and presumably taking long hot showers where each lady takes an environmentally-damning amount of time scrubbing their filthy bosoms. Oh, my bad. I was transcribing my dream journal again. Dinner is served, and chaos ensues.

It's showtime, Synergy, as story three has a random guy performing an absolutely brutal f--king surgery on a member of the Misfits (or whatever the girl band was called), after he totally ran her the f--k over. This may be the best part of Southbound, but it's also the toughest to watch. Especially if you're eating chicken on the bone.

You never forget the night your first kid was born.
Finally, story four is about a family and their unfortunate run in with, you guessed it, masked home-invaders. Oh, those guys! Such rascals! Yep, these Silly Billys show up at the house of two seemingly normal parents and their (uh, can I say, uncreepily, super-hot?) teenage daughter [no, no I cannot], for reasons that aren't exactly clear. But when the dust settles, it may or may not lead us right back to the beginning. I think. 

Aw, Hell. There was another story. I just remembered it.

F--k it. You're not gonna watch this movie. So, uh, that one's about unicorns. And dinosaurs. Putting aside their difference to solve crimes. In space. 

Seeing as things have gone off the rails...more than usual, let's go ahead and roll up the windows and awkwardly drive past the Yays and Boos. Aw, shit. They totally saw us. Hey, you two...how's it going? Almost missed you guys...

I once got a bloody nose while driving.I  had no tissues, no napkins...nothing.
I miss that shirt. The tie, too.
  • If you're going to set your film along an endless and abandoned desert highway, you might as well have an awesome DJ manning the fort at a long-forgotten AM radio station to keep us all company.
  • Dude, a grown man in this movie has a f--king velcro wallet. Had I never met my wife? I could have been this man.
  • I was a big fan of that girl band. Big fan. I couldn't tell you what kind of music they play, but trust me, they have my support.
  • In the previously forgotten segment of this flick, there's a pretty cool bar robbery that takes place. Like, Robber Guy, you might want to rob a different bar...just saying.
  • There are a few bits of shocking violence, but my favorite might have been that old horror classic, some poor bastard getting his hand blown the f--k off. You know, the little brother of Guy getting his head blown straight off with a shotgun, who also made an entirely welcomed appearance. 
  • Uh, hot daughter unleashes a knife-bat combo that I was way into. No, not like that, you a-hole. Even if an old fat guy had done it, I still would have liked it, too. Gosh.
  • And finally, even though I didn't exactly love this film, at all, and even though it put me to sleep each of the three times I attempted to watch it (and even though it ended up as the most expensive Redbox rental of my life), I still fully support the creativity and style of what the directors of Southbound were going for. Maybe if it was a little more coherent, or maybe if I weren't a shell of human being when the weekend finally comes, I would have enjoyed it more, but I salute it nonetheless. 

I guess in Hell they don't circumcise anyone.
  • The creepiest thing in this movie is not the demons who want to rip your face off. Those guys, I get. But the weird hyper-religious family and their black meat? *shudder*
  • Oh, and the result of eating that rancid flesh? It shouldn't surprise you that in ain't pretty. (though it should surprise that consuming it also makes you oddly...honest?)
  • Yo, that was a very broken leg. Extremely broken even.
  • But even worse than having your protruding bone set by some guy on a phone? Having him manually compress your lungs. From the inside. F------k!
  • Okay, okay, she gets it. Close the f--king door already, for f--k's sake.
  • I've never been the hugest fan of demon screeching. C'mon now, I don't give a shit if you are dead. Use your words, guys. 
  • If I call the cops during a home invasion and 9-1-1 tells me it'll be thirty minutes, I'm hanging up and calling Dominoes. Maybe the Pizza Guy will show up first and take a bullet for me?
  • Wait, so that's how you become a faceless demon? Oh, I thought it was when you made your living selling Make America Great Again hats. Learn something new everyday.
  • And finally, even though we all knew that was how this whole affair was going to end, when it actually happened I was left utterly disappointed. You'd think I would have been stoked to finally be given the green-light to go the f--k to sleep, but alas, I wasn't. I was kind of bummed out, actually. Aw.
I really try not to mix my personal politics (or lack thereof) with something as frivolous as a D-grade movie blog, but lately the upcoming election is all I can think about, even if it's horror-movie/Halloween season (it doesn't help that my mom is an oversized bell and a funny hat away from officially being a town crier [when I'm the only one she's talking to].

Luckily, there's this super-entertaining show that's recently come on and basically everyone can't stop talking about it. I'm actually thinking about watching the third episode tomorrow night, you know, to take my mind off the doom and gloom of the election.

Shit. The name totally escapes me. It's got these eerie-looking sociopaths who are so rich the basic fundamentals of society simply don't apply to them. You know what I'm talking about, I know you do. Ha! I got it.

It's called the Presidential Debate. You gotta check out.

Totally creepy, but oddly fascinating, too.


  1. How is it that you write a post about a kind-of terrible movie, and make me want to see it more than I want to see Doctor Strange next week?!
    Love this post, as always dude!
    - Allie

    1. Hahaha...I think 'kind-of terrible movie' is being far too kind. It's really not good. At all. But was is good, or great, are these kind words. Fantastic! Thank you, Allie!

      Now let's hope Doctor Strange is as good as everyone is saying!

  2. Even though I have lady parts, as a USian I feel like I have a dick and someone's punched me in it. Which is even worse than the thought of a sleazebag grabbing my ... um, never mind. Four years ago, I would have thought likening a political party or movement to a narrow-minded murderous cult was a bit harsh, but now it seems like one of the nicer things one could say.

    Awesome post! That bit about filthy bosoms and your dream journal made me laugh way harder than I should have. This sounds like a movie I might want to see. Something about the phrase "seriously gnarly shit went down" simultaneously scares me a bit and piques my interest.

    Oh, and I'm ready to put in an order for a "Make Hell Hot Again" hat--I assume you have some in stock? :-)

    1. No, no. I think Trump grabbing anybody anywhere is worse than a dick punch. Much worse. At least your dick eventually feels better. But The Donald groping you? Seems like a lifetime of misery, no?

      Uhhhh....it's probably NOT a movie you should see, but if you do, let me know. I'll add your description to my dream journal. Right below all the stick figures with circles where there arms meet their bodies.

      Ha, fresh out! They're a big seller in Pennsylvania.