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‘Dangerous Men’: Transdimensional gutter-action classic is the holy grail of holy fucking shit!
04:14 pm

Pop Culture



“I foresee no possibility of venturing into themes showing a closer view of reality for a long time to come. The public itself will not have it. What it wants is a gun and a girl.”
― D.W. Griffith

There are no more grindhouses on 42nd St. and few surviving drive-in movie theaters left in the USA. The era of the exploitation film is over. Filmmakers who consciously make films in the spirit of the grindhouse like John Waters and Quentin Tarantino have been so imitated they can no longer surprise or shock us. But periodically a new film is unearthed that satisfies the hunger for something “so bad it’s good” and connoisseurs of cinematic junk food rejoice. In recent years, we’ve been satiated by Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, kung fu disco crime saga Miami Connection, Timothy Carey’s delirious The World’s Greatest Sinner and now the almost indescribably weird Dangerous Men directed by John Rad. Described by its most devout champions as “the holy grail of holy fucking shit,” Dangerous Men is about to crawl out of from the tomb of obscurity and make its way to a theater near you. Resistance is futile.

I saw Dangerous Men at this year’s Fantastic Fest in Austin. A lost film discovered by Cinefamily’s Hadrian Belove, Dangerous Men is the creation of an Iranian architect who came to America in the 1980s to pursue his true passion: making movies. Jahangir Salehi Yeganehradm changed his name to the Hollywood-friendly John Rad and began working on Dangerous Men, an otherworldly action thriller that would take him 26 years to complete. With no formal knowledge of film making, Rad fearlessly threw himself into the project with the relentless zeal of a man possessed. He not only directed the film, he wrote it and created the synth-driven brain melting score. The result is a movie that truly warrants being called independent and in its fly by the seat of its pants lunacy take its place among the pantheon of cinematic jaw-droppers like Glen Or Glenda and The Strange World Of Coffin Joe.

After all those years of struggling to complete Dangerous Men, Yeganehradm finally released his labor of love in 2005. It was a very limited release in Los Angeles and died at the box office. But L.A. film fanatic Belove saw Rad’s movie several times and was blown away by its delirious energy. Belove went on to found Cinemafamily which put him in a great position to champion lost treasures like Dangerous Men. Which is exactly what he did.

With several successful screenings at Cinefamily, it seemed time for the film to break out and be seen by a larger audience. It took the combined efforts of several movie obsessives, including the folks at the Alamo Drafthouse, to put all of the elements together to resurrect Dangerous Men. The result of all that love and care will come to fruition this coming Friday the 13th (perfect) when Dangerous Men gets its second chance at blowing the doors off of movie theaters everywhere. Sadly, John Rad/Yeganehradm won’t be around to witness the fulfillment of his dream. He died in 2007.

John Rad
If the rest of the world’s reaction to the film is anything like it was at this year’s Fantastic Fest, Dangerous Men will be a cult hit. It uses well-worn action tropes and dramatic clichés we’ve seen a thousand times but it does so through a prism where logic and craft take a backseat to the kind of do-it-yourself primitivism we associate with punk rock. It’s not about how well you do it, it’s about how committed and passionate you are about what you’re doing. The lack of self-conscious filters results in a purity of vision that can be far more exciting and satisfying than professional perfectionism. What Dangerous Men lacks in filmmaking chops it makes up for in the adrenaline rush of not knowing what the hell is going to happen next. You get the sense that Rad had no idea himself! This is filmmaking done in a trance—the kind of surrealistic flights taken by David Lynch where scenes and images detonate in the subconscious and burst to the surface like synaptic fireworks.

Fantastic Fest programmer and author Zack Carlson was among the movers and shakers who spearheaded efforts to bring Dangerous Men back into circulation. His description of the movie as “transdimensional gutter-action”  is a perfect distillation of the movie’s wide-ranging pleasures. You want bikers, broads, belly dancers and untamed bush? You got ‘em! You want scenes that seem to exist in an alternate reality where aliens have taken on human form and spew dialogue as if they’ve never heard the English language before? Check! You want to see what a movie edited by William S, Burroughs using his cut-up technique (and oven mitts) might look like? Here you go. The cost of admission? Your fucking mind.

In one paragraph, Carlson manages to communicate his passion for what makes Dangerous Men something special…

Some people love to laugh at what they consider to be “bad movies.” But the fact is that there are hundreds of thousands of movies in the world, and the majority of them are bad. Whether or not a film is good or bad, what gives it its value — what makes it persevere — is just when it entertains the audience, or when it does something that no other movie has done before. Dangerous Men does both of those things at a staggering, impossible level. It’s a film shot over two decades that tells a story that takes place over ten days. It’s an ambition-powered time machine that rewrites human behavior, sexuality and logic. It’s an electric bolt of pure vision from the mind of one man, the late John S. Rad.

An exclusive clip of ‘Dangerous Men’ after the jump…

Posted by Marc Campbell | Leave a comment
Groovy vintage Swedish paper dolls of celebrities like Björn from ABBA, the Monkees and Prince!
10:07 am



Prince Swedish paper doll (1989)
Prince Swedish paper doll (1989)
While I was in the process of my very important “research” for a post I did for Dangerous Minds last week on a vintage collection of Swedish bubblegum trading cards, I came across more curious Swedish pop-culture artifacts - paper dolls that were made in the late 60s and 70s of various movie stars and musicians. Groovy.
Steve Priest of The Sweet vintage Swesdish paper doll
Steve Priest of The Sweet vintage Swedish paper doll
The dolls originally appeared in various Swedish magazines. Personally, whoever is responsible for thinking it was a good idea to create a paper doll in the image of Prince (pictured above which is actually dated 1989) in his underwear ready to be dressed up in his finest purple paper suit, is a damn genius.

I’ve included a shit-ton of paper dolls of famous folks like Brigitte Bardot, Bianca Jagger (?) and lollypop enthusiast Telly Savalas (!) after the jump that you can print out yourself and dress up (if that’s how you get your kicks - I don’t judge and neither should you) at home or at work if you’re bored. You can also purchase some of the actual vintage cutouts (which don’t come cheap) on eBay or Etsy.
Björn Ulvaeus (ABBA) vintage Swedish paper doll
Björn Ulvaeus (ABBA) 1976
Kojak vintage Swedish paper doll
“Kojak” (played by actor Telly Savalas in the 1970s television cop show Kojak)
Michael Nesmith of The Monkees vintage Swedish paper doll
Michael Nesmith of The Monkees

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
What have you done to BRAD? Meet the new ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ action figures
08:26 am



Rocky Horror Picture Show action figures by Funko (coming in December, 2015)
Rocky Horror Picture Show “Reaction” figures by Funko (coming in December, 2015)
As hard as it is to believe, 2015 is the 40th anniversary of one of the greatest cult films of all time, The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Dr. Frank-N-Furter action figure by Funko
Dr. Frank-N-Furter “ReAction” figure by Funko
In addition to the latest collectible Blu-ray that was released in honor of this milestone in late September (which included pair of fishnet stockings and pink gloves as worn in the film by actor Tim Curry as “Dr. Frank-N-Furter, squeee!), Everett, Washington-based toy giant Funko is set to release six, fully poseable action figures based on characters from the beloved film. The collection (due out this December) includes the Dr. Frank-N-Furter, Riff Raff, Brad Majors, Janet Weiss, Riff Raff’s sister Magenta and glitter-loving groupie, Columbia. While the figures are not quite as cool as the set released by Vital Toys back in 2000 (which marked the films 25th anniversary - feel old yet?), I think that collectors and the hardcore fanbase that still lives for the 1975 flick, will quickly snap them up.

My only minor complaint about this set is the omission of Peter Hinwood’s character, the glammy hot-pants wearing creation of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, “Rocky Horror.” There’s also no Eddie (the ex-delivery boy played by forever Bat out of Hell, Meatloaf) but that’s just me being wishful that such things existed. Images of the fantastic plastic Rocky Horror figures follow.
Riff Raff
Riff Raff
More after the jump…

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
‘Home of the Brave’: Laurie Anderson in concert (with William Burroughs)
03:42 pm



Laurie Anderson’s 1986 film, Home of the Brave, a cinematic documentation of her Mister Heartbreak concert tour, was shot in Union City, NJ, in the summer of 1985, at the Park Theater. Directed by Anderson herself, the film is a great record of the tightly choreographed hi-tech multimedia theatrical gimmickry she is known for, at an exciting stage of her career.

I recall thinking when Home of the Brave came out that it was an attempt to do for Laurie Anderson’s profile what Stop Making Sense had done for the Talking Heads, but that it was even better. King Crimson guitarist Adrian Belew, percussionist David Van Tieghem and Joy Askew are in her backing band here and William S. Burroughs walks onstage from time to time muttering cryptic things to great effect and dances a slow waltz with Anderson.

Home of the Brave has never been released on DVD, although it was announced at one point as part of a DVD box set that never came out. A (quite decent) torrent file made from the laserdisc is pretty easy to find and is probably the source for the (quite decent) version you can see via YouTube embedded below.

Last night Anderson did a Q&A at Cinefamily in Los Angeles, where they screened a recently discovered 35mm print of Home of the Brave. There will several more screenings there over the weekend and into next week. Anderson’s new film, Heart of a Dog, opens in wider release today across the country and is getting rave reviews.

Posted by Richard Metzger | Leave a comment
On location with Alec Guinness and Peter Sellers in ‘The Ladykillers’
10:51 am



Alec Guinness was almost killed during the filming of the classic Ealing comedy The Ladykillers in 1955. Guinness starred as “Professor” Marcus, the wily head of a gang of crooks responsible for a security van robbery. The Professor’s comically dysfunctional gang consisted of Peter Sellers, Herbert Lom, Cecil Parker and Danny Green as various con men and ne’er-do-wells who decided to hide out in a ramshackle lodging house near to King’s Cross Station—scene of the crime. Here they hoodwinked the benign but eccentric landlady, Mrs. Louisa Wilberforce (the wonderful Katie Johnson), into believing they are a string quintet seeking room to practise their music. As to be expected, murder and mayhem ensue.

Guinness’s brush with death came towards the end of filming, as Piers Paul Read explains in his excellent biography of the actor:

...for the final scene of The Ladykillers, when Alec, as the Professor, is killed by [a] railway signal falling onto his head, the production crew made sure that this would not in fact happen by placing a metal pin half an inch above the level of Alec’s head. Lines were drawn in chalk to mark where he should stand for the shot. When it came to the take, however, the signal sheared the metal pin and tore the back of Alec’s jacket. He had been standing an inch or two in front of the chalk mark—a mistake that saved his life.

It wasn’t the first time Guinness had been nearly killed filming an Ealing comedy. During Kind Hearts and Coronets when Guinness played Admiral Lord d’Ascoyne, he was to nobly salute as he went “down with the ship,” the water swirling around him until utterly submerged leaving only his navy cap to float to the surface. Guinness had told director Robert Hamer that he could hold his breath for four minutes, so filming the scene should prove no problem. Guinness was wired by his feet to the bottom of the tank and the scene shot, but he was then unfortunately forgotten about as the crew wrapped for the day:

Only well into the four minutes was it remembered that Alec was still tethered underwater and one of the crew had to dive into the tank with wire-cutters to set him free.

During Kind Hearts and Coronets Guinness refused to film a scene in which another of his characters, Lady Agatha d’Ascoyne, drifts off in a hot air balloon.

Alec was mocked by the production team for insisting upon a double: sure enough, the balloon drifted away and the double was lucky to return alive.

Another incident occurred during the filming of The Man in the White Suit when a wire supposed to carry Guinness snapped and sent him head first to the ground. Only his swift reflexes and very good luck saved the actor from possible death. Such near fatal mishaps may in part account for Guinness’ later scornful dismissal of his time at Ealing—indeed, the playwright Alan Bennett later recalled how Alec was “scathing about Ealing comedies.”

According to Read what perhaps Alec feared most was that his association with light comic roles meant he “could not master a major role.” This was just his own insecurity giving in to the petty asides of his contemporaries—John Gielgud in particular who snidely suggested Guinness was “good” at “those little parts you do so well.”

Personally, I consider Alec Guinness as nothing but perfection in all of his Ealing roles. He stole Kind Hearts and Coronets from its star Dennis Price, when he played eight different roles—giving each character their own distinct personality. He was seemingly benign but scheming and duplicitous in The Lavender Hill Mob and a naive but brilliant scientist in The Man With The White Suit, while in The Ladykillers Guinness steals virtually every scene he is in and his performance is so credible that you forget this is an actor playing a role.

Sixty years after its release (December 1955) The Ladykillers is still considered one of the greatest comedies ever made (number five in the Guardian’s Top 100 Comedies of All Time), and apart from the misguided remake with Tom Hanks, little has happened over the intervening decades to darken the movie’s great comic brilliance or Alec Guinness’ superb performance.
The man himself.
The cast: Back row L-R—Alec Guinness (‘Professor’ Marcus), Danny Green (‘One Round’), Cecil Parker (‘Major’ Claude Courtney). Front row L-R—Herbert Lom (Louis Harvey), Katie Johnson (Mrs. Louisa Alexandra Wilberforce) and Peter Sellers (Harry Robinson).
Alec Guinness as ‘Professor’ Marcus.
Herbert Lom and Guinness playing cards during filming.

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Leave a comment
‘Monsterman’: The Rise and fall and rise of Lordi, the Monsterboy who never grew up
10:42 am



It all started out as a joke. A Finnish heavy metal band wearing Gwar-like costumes enters the cornball Eurovision Song Contest in order to freak the squares out. What happened was totally unexpected. They won! And Finland went apeshit. The band, Lordi, became national heroes, a source of enormous pride for the people of Finland. It may be about as hip as a Christmas-themed sweater, but the Eurovision Song Contest is taken very seriously with an estimated audience as high as 600 million people in 56 countries.

Lordi’s win made them a national treasure. The year was 2006. There was even a Lordi cola drink! By 2007 Finland was done with Lordi. Once the fanfare subsided, the home of the whooper swan and Hanoi Rocks banished Lordi to the “where are they now?” file, the dead zone where Spinal Tap, William Hung and The Singing Nun reside. The band that had once been Finland’s ticket to International glory had become an embarrassment.

The worst part of Lordi’s fall from grace is that it really was a case of a joke backfiring. What was intended as a subversive act was seen as a sellout by the audience Lordi really wanted to cultivate: the metalheads. Imagine if The Clash had appeared on Star Search. Lordi lost whatever credibility they had and the Eurovision Song Contest win killed their career while the cheers of millions faded into silence.

Filmmaker Antti Haase has made a terrific documentary about Lordi’s frontman Tomi Putaansuu called Monsterman. The film’s title refers to the title of Lordi’s biggest hit song. Putaansuu, who goes by the name “Mr. Lordi,” and Haase were childhood friends who had lost contact over the years. Mr. Lordi became a rocker. Haase made movies. When it came time for Putaansuu to stage his comeback he contacted Haase about the idea of documenting the rocker’s return to the limelight. Haase agreed and the resulting documentary is a touching, melancholic and deeply thoughtful look at the perils of fame and stardom.

Monsterman deservedly won the Jury Award at this year’s Austin Film Festival. Haase has directed a rock doc that has the cinematic touches one associates with narrative art films. This a beautifully shot movie that aspires to communicate not just by filming talking heads and concert footage but through a visual poetry that evokes feeling in ways that transcend mere reportage. Monsterman has soul.

Monsterman manages a level of intimacy with its subject without ever revealing Putaansuu’s face. In fact, we never see the faces of any of the members of Lordi until close to end of the film - and only one. The effect is quite dramatic because the person revealed is someone we’ve grown to care about. Putaansuu was furious that director Haase had betrayed an agreement they had to not unmask anyone in the band. As a result, Putaansuu has disowned Monsterman. Given the sympathetic depiction of Lordi and the overall excellence of the movie, I think Putaansuu will have a change of heart. In fact, according to Haase the healing has begun. As more accolades roll in, I expect Putaansuu to hit the talk show circuit. And why not? It’s all good theater.

Rock and roll is particularly cruel to its aging stars. For every Keith Richards or Patti Smith, there’s a dozen rockers who’ve fallen into irrelevancy or simply burned out. Does anyone take Axl Rose, Steven Tyler or Sinéad O’Connor seriously anymore? Some older rockers have taken to writing memoirs to keep their hand in the game. It’s a graceful way to keep creating without making a fool of yourself. Others, like Ted Nugent or Meatloaf, just go insane. Sometimes dying is they best way to keep your street cred. Putaansuu isn’t taking his fall from favor lying down. He’s the phoenix who’ll rise from the ashes. It’s the metal thing to do.

In Monsterman, Putaansuu is heroic in his efforts to pull himself up by his boot straps (which are enormous by the way) and resurrect his career. He knows no other world. In many ways, like most rockers I’ve known, myself included, he’s been in a state of arrested development since he was a teenager. He is still surrounded by his vast collection of action figures, masks and horror videos. He confesses that he’s too much of a child to have children himself. He lives alone in a snowbound cabin 50 miles from the Arctic Circle and is still doted upon by his loving mother. His strategy to return to the status of his glory days may actually work. The movie Monsterman is a damned good start.

Shortly after winning the Eurovision Song Contest, Putaansuu told the New York Times…

Being a hero is easy: you just have to win the Eurovision Song Contest, apparently. Until a few weeks ago the whole nation was against us totally — they did not want us to represent Finland. Now all the magazines in Finland are printing Lordi masks for children. There’s not much logic going on inside. But let’s face it, people are stupid.

Tomi Putaansuu is hoping they’ll get stupid again.

Posted by Marc Campbell | Leave a comment
‘Sympathy For The Devil’: The True Story of The Process Church of the Final Judgment

The Secret Teachings Of Sam Walton

How do we give form to the formless? How do we name that which is unnameable? How do we describe the indescribable? These are challenges that religion, the occult and magic have addressed since humanity first appeared on this planet. In an effort to communicate the divine, the transcendent, the psychedelic, we use devices like art and ritual. We cloak the mystical in words and images in the same way that GOD cloaks itself in the visible world to tell its story. Is life a great metaphor representing something that we cannot see, but know is there? Anyone who has had a “spiritual” experience has had a glimpse into, or a sense of, something greater that we are all a part of. Some go toward this experience alone—St. John or Jesus. Some go as a group, feeling that the odds are better that someone among them will serve as antennae, to dial into the radio of the gods and share the signal. These groups require focus and ceremony (a process) in order to cement the bonds of community, to attain a group consciousness that elevates one and all. We see this kind of collective mindset in everything from sports to business teams to religious organizations. But communities we don’t understand, that we deem weird or esoteric, we pejoratively call “cults.” The fervent devotion of sports fans, the mind-obliterating, soul-destroying Wal-Mart cheer forced upon its employees, the idolization of Steve Jobs and sheep-like behavior of Deadheads, Ben Carson and his groupies for God, all have cult-like aspects to them. But we dare not call them cults. We reserve the word to marginalize and demonize spiritual movements we do not understand or forms of art considered degenerate. “Cult” is a dirty word.

Confessions Of A Teenage Hippie Pervert

I’ve often wondered if I’ve ever been a cult member. During the Summer Of Love I lived in the Haight with a dozen or more teenagers my age who dropped acid, fucked each other and danced to psychedelic music in the glow of black lights and incense haze. We chanted “OM” and passed joints and waited for some kind of magic to happen. And it was happening. It just wasn’t the dramatic type of magic we were hoping for. I do think we collectively levitated once. I lived in a Los Gatos home owned by an ordained priest of The Church Of Tomorrow. He had the best LSD and his stream of consciousness talks seemed to be filled with all kinds of mindblowing heaviness. He had a gravitational pull that seemed superhuman. Young beautiful women flocked to him and I flocked to them. Was this a cult or was it just a groovy hangout? I lived in L.A. in 1967 and worked for a telemarketing agency (definitely a cult) and my young longhaired co-workers were the kinds of Southern California hippies that seemed more like extras from Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls than actual hippies. I spent a night tripping with them in a suburban ranch house and all they talked about was having rough sex with each other involving beatings, leather and whips. I love all kinds of sex, but this talk was brutal, chilling. The words coming out of their mouths were ugly,  flailing through the room like syntactical succubi. What the fuck was I hearing? I fled the scene and ended up having a seriously intense trip in a telephone booth trying to call the only other people I knew in L.A. to come rescue me.

To this day I’m not sure that what I experienced with those “kinky perverts” actually happened. I may have been projecting my id into the situation, my repressed fantasies. After all I was raised in one of the biggest cults of them all, Catholicism. Were they a sex cult? Was what I was hearing all in my own head. Cults are crazy that way. They’re open to interpretation and are often victims of what people think they’re perceiving as opposed to what’s actually happening. Cults are often the repository for the desires we fear. And some cults are created to fuck with those fears, fantasies and projections.

Altamont: Hitler’s Woodstock

The French surrealists and dadaists employed occult imagery to shake up the status quo.They were called a “movement.” They could have just as easily been called a cult. New York’s Living Theatre used confrontational ceremony and transgressive ritual to tear apart the restraints that bound their audiences to dead and archaic modes of thinking. As a theater group, they worked intensely and constantly with each other and often lived communally. Were they a cult? Was Altamont the biggest black mass ever held and were those of us who attended unwitting members of some kind of Satanic sacrifice? (I was there. It sure looked like Hell to me.) Is Facebook the ultimate cult, dwarfing any cult or religion known to man or woman, unstoppable in its indoctrination of every living breathing human being on this earth? I see more devotion directed toward Facebook than any religion I’ve ever encountered. More people are facing their monitor screens than Mecca or reading from their Bibles.

The Living Theatre

Facebook: The Bible Of The Damned

Dr. Timothy Leary was vilified for turning on a generation of young people to the vast beauty and possibilities of their own minds. Mark Zuckerberg is celebrated for reducing our consciousness to the dimensions of a 14-inch screen filled with pictures of food, cats, obituary notices and forlorn pictures of aging rock and rollers. Jesus (who had a cult of just 12) was crucified for being a weirdo. Joel Osteen has made a fortune playing Jesus in a Brooks Brothers suit. Given the choice between Aleister Crowley   or Ted Cruz for President, The Beast gets my vote. I always go with the Devil I know. They turned David Koresh and a bunch of innocent children torched to a pile of ash and yet war criminal Dick Cheney still walks among us, his mechanical heart still beating, his rictus smirk still mocking us all. Donald Rumsfeld lived in Taos, New Mexico within spitting distance of where Marshall Applewhite leader of the Heaven’s Gate suicide cult ran a health food restaurant. Did Rummy eat Beezlebub’s bean sprouts? Did he dream of weapons of mass destruction hurtling toward us like a comet. In a world where companies make billions selling video games (talk about cults) in which teenage boys roleplay as carjackers, murderers and thugs, a kid named Ahmed Mohamed was arrested for bringing a homemade clock to school. The mass hypnosis taking place in this world right now makes Charles Manson look about as intimidating as Chuck Woolery. Most Americans have been, and will continue to vote for a government that is actively working against their best interests. Under what spell have we fallen? We follow blindly, faithfully, surrendering our will to higher powers, both political and religious. Welcome to the biggest cult of them all: the United States Of America. Rant over.

Crazy Wisdom Drove Me Crazy

Back in simpler days when a cult was a cult and easily identifiable—they wore robes or funny hats—a group of young men and women gathered together in 60s London to form The Process, a quasi-religious group that were part spiritual seekers, part performance art and more than a little bit rock and roll. They had long hair, were beautiful and dressed like priests styled by a Carnaby Street tailor. Their methods were a mashup of Scientology, occultism, psychedelia, pop culture and dada. The members of The Process Church Of The Final Judgement were genuinely on a path to find out the answers to life’s most profound questions: how did we get here, what are supposed to do here and where the fuck are we going? But unlike most religious folk, the members of The Process realized that the journey was the goal and didn’t have to be deadly serious. The Process was all about the process. Enjoy it. In many respects it resembled Chogyam Trungpa’s teachings on crazy wisdom. I was a student of Trungpa’s. From an idiot’s point of view, Trungpa was a cult leader.

Chogyam Trungpa

Attack Of The Hooded Snuffoids

In their zeal to shake things up, The Process occasionally went off the deep end and this is where they ran into problems. People, particularly the British press, could not separate the theatrical from the real. And the The Process was very theatrical. Like Antonin Artaud or Andy Kaufman, The Process was adept at elaborate mindfucking. They were the mystical turd in the very bland punch bowl of British society. In mocking religious hypocrisy, they were often mistaken for being the very thing they were mocking. Their shock tactics often backfired. Surrounding themselves with the iconography of Satanism was a heavy metal move years before Black Sabbath had ever released a record. But try explaining that to the tabloids who called them Satan worshippers and sex deviants. Or worse, Ed Sanders’ hate-filled description of The Process as “hooded snuffoids” and “an English occult society dedicated to observing and aiding the end of the world by stirring up murder, violence and chaos, and dedicated to the proposition that they shall survive the gore as the chosen people.” I’m as big a Fugs fan as anyone out there, but Sanders really missed the irony of him, of all people, writing this shit. Sanders’ band The Fugs were themselves quite skilled in the art of the mindfuck. Using majikal incantations to Egyptian gods, The Fugs attempted to levitate the Pentagon in protest of the Vietnam war. When you’ve successfully conned a con artist like Ed Sanders, you’ve managed something to be quite proud of.

Power to The Process. And Ed, to quote the title of your once infamous literary ‘zine, fuck you.

Ed Sanders’ exorcism chant
Skinny Puppy Housebroken By Satan

While I’m not an expert on any of this cult stuff, like most people, I find it immensely fascinating. The Manson Family creeps me out in ways that deeply disturb me, although groups like The Source, The Process and even Scientology provide me the kind of amusement that diffuses some of the darker shit. If you want to delve further into The Process from the point of view of someone who knows far more than me and does it objectively and with just enough wit and empathy, check out filmmaker Neil Edwards’ insightful and thoroughly entertaining new documentary Sympathy For The Devil. Full of interviews with surviving members of The Process and various experts in the field of all things “cult,” Edwards’ film will introduce you to the real truth behind the head games, rumors, bullshit and theater. And as Edwards told me, like its subject, the movie is a work in progress. There is more to be told and probably more that will never be told.

After the jump, an interview with director Neil Edwards…

Posted by Marc Campbell | Leave a comment
If you played the old Nintendo ‘Friday the 13th’ game, this is the best thing you’ll see all day
08:49 am



The purple and teal Jason Voorhees Nintendo game figure that was introduced at the 2013 Dan Diego Comic-Con resurrected a great deal of interest in the 1989 Friday the 13th NES video game—considered by many to be one of the worst video games of all time.

The notoriously stupid, extremely difficult game has achieved a kind of fandom for being so utterly terrible and is held in the same sort of esteem that Atari’s infamous E.T. game is among vintage game aficionados. The fact that the Friday the 13th film franchise has so many die-hard fans insures its popularity, even if 8 bit purple Jason and his mother’s floating severed head aren’t exactly terrifying. And let’s not forget about that classic bum-out end screen:

The fans at YouTube channel Maga64 have created a faux trailer for an imagined movie version of the video game (complete with old-school VHS tracking adjustment issues) and they totally nail every inexplicable aspect of the gameplay (right down to the cleaver that looks like a toothbrush). If you are a fan of the movie series or the video game, this may very well be the funniest thing you see all day.

Via: H/T: Mike Bracken

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
Shower curtains of Adam Ant, Wu-Tang, Nick Cave, David Bowie’s mug-shot (and everything in-between!)
09:44 am



David Bowie mug-shot shower curtain
David Bowie mug-shot shower curtain
One of the two driving forces behind Dangerous Minds, Tara McGinley has noted in the past that she has a “slightly unhealthy” obsession with shower curtains. Something that we share in common when it comes to coveting the wide variety of shower curtains that can usually be had for less than a hundred bucks out there on the Internets. Here are some of my current favorites.
Wendy O. Williams and The Plasmatics shower curtain
Wendy O. Williams and The Plasmatics shower curtain
Wu-Tang Clan shower curtain
Wu-Tang Clan shower curtain
So, if you always wanted a shower curtain featuring David Bowie’s 1976 mug-shot (when Bowie and Iggy Pop were arrested in Rochester, New York for possessing about 6.4 ounces of marijuana and pictured at the top of this post), then today is your lucky day (and I’d act fast before those pesky “cease and desist” letters cause some of these items disappear). Most of the shower curtains in this post can be found sites such as eBay, Fine Art America (where you’ll find the most of the ones I featured today), Society6, and Angry, Young and Poor.
Fight Club (featuring Tyler Durden) shower curtain
Fight Club’s Tyler Durden
Many, many more, after the jump…

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
The current number one movie in Germany is a Hitler comedy
08:49 am

The wrong side of history


Knocking Pixar’s Inside Out from the top-spot, the number one German box-office draw is currently Look Who’s Back, a comedy about Hitler waking up in modern Germany, and his disgust with modern media, technology, politics, and cultural norms.

The film, based on the international best-selling book by Timur Vermes of the same name, follows the awoken Nazi leader as modern Germans assume he is a prankster and make him a YouTube sensation. Thorough his new-found fame he is able to go back into politics.

Director David Wnednt’s adaptation for the screen takes the basic premise of the book’s plot but adds in Borat-esque footage of actor Oliver Masucci, in character as Hitler, on the streets interacting with real Germans.

Masucci, speaking to The Guardian, described filming these scenes:

It was incredible, I was suddenly the attraction, like a popstar. People clustered around me. One told me she loved me, and asked me to hug her. One, to my relief, started hitting me. There was also a black woman who said I scared her.

Germans should be able to laugh at Hitler, rather than viewing him as monster because that relieves him of responsibility for his deeds and diverts attention from his guilt for the Holocaust. But it should be the type of laugh that catches in your throat and you’re almost ashamed when you realize what you’re doing.

The film includes recent real-life footage of demonstrators holding anti-refugee signs—making the presence of its lead character all the more timely, though the country’s Nazi past remains a touchy subject among Germans. Display of the swastika and other Nazi symbols are still outlawed in Germany. 

There is currently no word on a European or American release of the film, but based on the strength of its German box-office presence, one would assume a wider release would not be far off.

Here is a subtitled trailer for the film:

Via: Matthew Gault at War is Boring

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
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