Joy Ride 2 Review

Originally published 3/28/11 on Film Threat, this is my long-awaited review on Joy Ride 2: Dead Ahead.  In retrospect, I fear I was being too kind.  You can read the review here.

Excess Hollywood: The Future of Tomorrow (And Other Things)

wwwThis was originally published on Film Threat on 1/5/06 and was my predictions for the future of Hollywood.  You can read the original column here. 

First Kindle Short Story Up

Melinda, my first piece for the Kindle, is up on Amazon. It will be the first of many if this goes well. This is a horror story and is pretty subtle when compared to my other fiction.   Ninety-nine cents, too.  Cheaper than a cup of joe, and probably better for you.

Excess Hollywood: The Art of Snuff--The Shane Ryan Interview Part One and Two

You can read part one of my interview with actor/director Shane Ryan here.  My praise of his Amateur Porn Star Killer film franchise has cost me friendships and ad revenue to my blogs.  I still stand behind him and the APSK series, however.

This was originally published by Film Threat 1/12/2006.  The second part of the interview (which you can read here) was 1/19/06.

This was one of my favorite interviews, as it brought to light a lot of questions about what is legal to show in film and what is not. 

Excess Hollywood: The Parent Trap

Originally published on Film Threat 1/26/06, this was an examination of the mindset behind parents who took their kids to see Hostel. You can read the piece here.

Fuck Shit Up

This piece originally ran in issue #4 of NO LONGER A FANzine, which sure some of you fondly remember. The issue came out in 1993. I did a regular column for it called "Fuck Shit Up." Here ya go ...


Fuck Shit Up

I've finally hit it big at work! Due to employees screwing around too much, missing too much time in general, and just acting human, my job put out a rule book. Cool.

While not doing anything more than serving as letter writing paper to me, the bosses at my shit job thought we should act as if this book were like the Bible. I hate the Bible, so it should be no surprise that the rule book meant nothing to me. Oddly enough, some people took it very seriously. They even followed the rules! What kind of Americans was I working with?

Now I know you're wondering when I'll get to the ways to destroy corporate Amerika and bring your boss to his well-worn knees, but if that's all you're waiting for, turn the page or go pick up a James Bond novel, 'cause it ain't happenin' here. Not this time. I just want to write about how employers try to fuck you at every turn.

We received this book about two weeks after a major management shake-up. The only way we could receive our paychecks (or so they told us) was if we signed a paper stating that we received, read and understood the book. This was, of course, before we were even handed the damn thing! Just for the record, doing that is totally illegal. We -- yes, even I -- signed. We wanted our checks!

The book happened to be a union rule book. We weren't a union shop. Strange. The book started out by stating that management could do anything they wanted (forced overtime, relocating employees, rearranging shifts) and they could change the rules with no notice to employees! That makes the rule book totally obsolete in my eyes. Why have rules if any dickhead boss can change them if something doesn't go their way? Ahh, to have power ...

After reading that I didn't bother with the rest of the rules except for two things: Drug Policy and a Point System.

We had a drug policy! For those of you who don't partake in the delights of drugs and alcohol you have nothing to worry about, right? Wrong! I don't do either, but it affected me. How? Suspicion. If they ever even suspected anything I could either be forced to pee in a jelly jar or fired. Not only that, but those who did partake in that shit couldn't even do it in the privacy of their own homes, not even on weekends! No more Miller time! Later, a boss admitted he even enjoyed a drink after work but, hey, "a job is hard to come by." I'm so sure he stopped.

The point system involved missing work or coming in late/leaving early. You would be assigned points according to the amount of time you missed. A whole day was worth two points! After twelve points you were "terminated." Scary. The points and their punishments didn't matter because the bosses played favorites and changed the rules left and right. To get a point (one point) back you had to work thirty working days straight! No leaving early or coming in late. To get any kind of reward you had to reach -3 points. Only one woman did that but they claimed she was disqualified because she left early on a Saturday. She wasn't even scheduled to work then (lesson one: don't do bosses any favors) and she was so sick they took her to the hospital!

The next week they came with our checks, but guess what? They wouldn't give us our checks until we signed a paper stating that we read and agreed to the drug and alcohol policy. I, along with about four others, refused to sign, demanded our checks and went to the bank. The other sheep signed and complained about how much it sucked. They weren't willing to make a stand, though.

So I have one bit of advice: Don't bitch, moan or complain about something and then do nothing about it! That's so fucking worthless and if you do it, so are you.

Fuck off and get a tumor. Love, Doug

Excess Hollywood: The Busting of Blockbuster

This originally appeared on Film Threat 2/2/06. My absolute disdain for the franchise comes through in almost every word. You can read it here. As of this writing, Blockbuster hasn't gone away, but I think it's on its death bed.

Excess Hollywood: Lindsay Full Loaded

2/9/06. That's when I tackled the subject of Lindsay Lohan (you can read it here). Film Threat, to its credit, gave me no problems with this column.

Excess Hollywood: The Blue Screen Menace

Originally published 2/16/06 on Film Threat, this Excess Hollywood column was all about Jack Valenti and a group of Representatives who wanted to protect our children from the big ol' nasty Hollywood machine. When you look at the state of affairs in their own states, however, you start to see what the real problem is ...

Excess Hollywood: X3 and Spider-Man 3 Spoiler Warning

Originally published 2/23/06 on Film Threat, this Excess Hollywood piece (which you can read here), irritated some of my friends, but I stand by it.

The Sicilian Girl

Originally published on 12/30/10 on Film Threat, this is a review of The Sicilian Girl. You can click here to read it.

Excess Hollywood: You Think You Know Fear, You Know Nothing

Film Threat published this column on 3/26/06. It was inspired by a show on Bravo's show that highlighted the 100 scariest movie moments. A subject near to my heart.

Excess Hollywood: Empire of the Sun

Originally published 3/9/06 on Filmthreat.com, this is my take on Sundance. You can read it here.

Excess Hollywood: Gay Cowboys in Bondage

First posted on 3/6/06, this Film Threat piece is my take on the Brokeback Mountain controversy. You can read it here.

Violence Fetish

This is transcribed as it originally was published in Panache #17. (Published 9/27/02)

"Scotland Yard and security officials are becoming increasingly embarrassed and annoyed by the activities of the Angry Brigade, who cannot now be dismissed as a group of cranks." -- The Times January 29, 1971

Stand-up comedians are supposed to be funny, but what happens when they can't make us laugh? What do we do when jokes about large vaginas rub us the wrong way? How do we react when observational humor isn't very observational or humorous? And perhaps an even bigger question: If you're black and an albino, are you still black?

These questions and more haunted me after watching the documentary Hacks, which should be available at the local Fig's video store. I had to find out more about the people in this film, so with plane tickets in and an a meager Panache budget, I set out to find the Diamond and Hutz Talent Agency, which was the focus of the movie. I wish I could say I found it, but like those three foul-mouthed twentysomethings in The Blair Witch Project, I just became helplessly lost.

Within hours of my arrival I was wandering the streets of New York trying to get Michelle on the phone because I had already run out of money. (Don't buy gold from guys on the street.) When I did finally reach her, she wouldn't advance me any cash. "Turn tricks," she told me before hanging up.

That's when I headed for the shelter (I needed a place to sleep for the night) and saw a bald man in a wheelchair. He was handing out fliers, and I tried to avoid him, but there was something about his face that made me want to approach him.

"Comedian for hire," the flier read.

"I work with my sister," he told me as I scanned the flier.

Skully. I recognized him from the movie! I grabbed his U.S. Comedy Corps t-shirt and shook him. (Luckily, his sister was getting burritos down the block and didn't see this or she would've kicked my ass.)

"Where is Diamond and Hutz?" I blurted out.

"Hey! I don't know. After the Montreal thing went under, we were left in the cold. I hate bad pizza! What's the deal with old people? They're old. What's so great about Legos? You build things. Big deal. Build a house."

It was obvious that his dealings with the talent agency had left him a shell of his former self. My spirit had returned, though. At least one of the comics was still alive. This was a good sign.

Michelle still didn't front me any money. After begging enough change for a cup of coffee, I wandered into a Starbucks and placed my order. The man behind the counter looked vaguely familiar. He listened to me for a second, stared at me, and then fell to the floor shaking. An older man, who had been tinkering with the espresso machine, came rushing over to us. "Don't worry about him," he explained. "He does that from time to time."

It was Dhru and Roachy. I couldn't believe my luck. First the bald guy who hates bad pizza, and now the alternative comic and the old guy who had some issues when it came to underage girls. God was smiling upon me, and I asked about Diamond and Hutz. Roachy took me to a table and explained to me what had happened as I wrote it all down in my reporter's notebook.

"Yeah, Montreal didn't go so good," he said, lighting a cigar. "The a-holes running the thing were prejudiced against Lucius and Baxter from the start. They made the hotel lose our reservations, and then the spots that were promised to use were given to Cedric the Entertainer."

"Bummer," I sympathized.

"Well, you know Lucius. He's a sensitive soul. It crushed him. They tried to keep the agency going, but the only one who could afford to stay on was Otis. He was getting SSI 'cause he convinced them that his albinoism was a disability. He really helped Baxter and Lucius out for a while. I heard they were doing some Michael Jackson impersonation thing for parties. I tried to get on board with my Elvis, but it didn't seem to fit. I was thinking 'Ebony and Ivory," but they were pushing 'Ivory and Ivory.' I didn't get it."

I couldn't write fast enough. This was gold. I had so many questions for them. "Where are they now?" I asked.

Roachy just shrugged and puffed on his foul smelling cigar. "Couldn't tell you. But Dhru says he saw an infomercial with Lucius in it. At least that's what I think he said. He's like my retarded son sometimes. Can't figure him out. Hell, he could've been asking me to order pizza for all I know."

"What kind of infomercial?" I pressed. This could be the clue to solving the mystery of the Sith ... or something like that.

Roachy laughed. "That's the funny thing," he told me. "Apparently it's like those 'Girls Gone Wild' tapes. Only this is 'Comedians Gone Wild.' Isn't that right, Dhru?" he called out to his friend.

Dhru licked a spoon and then pretended he was bowling.

"That bit kills me every time," Roachy said fondly. "Yeah, Dhru said I'm right. It's got comedians like lifting their shirts up and shit. Strangest thing."

"When did he see this?"

"Four months ago."

Four months ago? That's almost half a year in show biz time. The trail was dead. There was no way I could find Diamond and Hutz now. They were probably living the caviar dreams lifestyle they were destined for. Who wouldn't want to buy a tape of Slappy Bernstein-Mangioli's husband taking off his shirt? Even if I found them, they wouldn't have time for a two-bit like me. I needed to get back home.

"Michelle," I said when she answered her phone at three a.m. her time. "If you don't Western Union me plane ticket money, I'm telling the authorities about your German porn collection."

I was heading back to California that evening. Soon after take-off, a soothing voice sounded from the front of the section I sat in. "I'm your flight attendant for the evening," the man announced. "If you need anything, just ask for me, Arty Hittle. You know, I've seen a lot of passengers, and I have to say, you are the calmest crowd I've ever dealt with. You, sir, in the back with the notebook ..."

He was talking to me! "Yes?" Where did I know this guy from?

"If maybe you could listen instead of writing while I'm talking ... yes, that's good. If you listen, maybe you'd know what to do if there were an emergency. You know, and forgive me for saying this, but in my three months of doing this job, I've never seen a man as angry as you look. Now, I don't know people, but I know faces, and yours is a face of ... insane rage. Just a little advice for the flight: maybe look nicer."

Go get a copy of Hacks. It is the funniest fucking movie of the year. You can read my review of it on Filmthreat.com (just enter Hacks in the search box). Remember, folks, it's just a ride. Just a ride ...