A Chronology on Elm Street - The Final Chapter

Bet you thought I'd never finish it, didn't you? Learn the unexpected ins and outs of the entire franchise in my new book, which reprints all nine Chronology on Elm Street blog entries, doubles your fun with ten additional entries that wrap up Freddy's saga once and for all, and includes a couple of bonus reviews to boot.  Links to every store where it's currently available may be found here: https://www.books2read.com/u/38gpM6

Star Wars vs. Star Trek, Using Math

Arguing about whether Star Wars or Star Trek is better is a pointless exercise, because nobody who matters or is good at life really cares. But people are going to do it anyway, so with all these new Star Wars movies coming out now seems like as good a time as any to answer the question once and for all, using math, because you can't refute math, end of discussion. Keep in mind I have no preconceived agenda here: I like both series a little bit, enough to watch most but not all of their installments, not enough to buy the action figures, but enough to buy the Lego sets. There's only one Star Wars character I'd fuck (Shira Brie) (look her up) and only one Star Trek character I'd fuck (Sulu). There's only one person involved with either franchise that I want to punch in the face. (Walter Koenig and George Lucas. Plus J.J. Abrams, of course, but he worked on both so he cancels himself out.) So from my standpoint Wars and Trek are pretty evenly matched going in. Now let's see what happens when we apply the numbers.

I would ask Shira Brie to wear this though, obviously.

First off, let's throw out all the novels, video games, comic books, and so on and so forth. First of all, most of it doesn't "count" anyway, because it's like imaginary to the second power or some stupid shit, plus there's just an assload of it and I don't have the rest of my life to write this article. Math is supposed to save people time. We'll stick to the material everyone pretty much agrees on, the movies and the TV shows. Since some crybabies will insist that some of these also "don't count" (The Star Wars Holiday Special) we'll do it like this: everything good "counts" and everything bad will simply be ignored, accruing no negative points. This couldn't possibly be more fair, so I don't want to see any whining in the comments section, got it? We'll begin with Star Trek, because alphabetical order.

So there are plenty of solid episodes of the original Star Trek TV series, but I'm gonna lowball it and say that ten of them are way above average. Taking commercials into account, that's about 450 minutes of quality Star Trek action. The old cartoon was pretty good too, so let's assume there are also ten of those worth seeing, giving us a grand total of 675 minutes. So far, so good.

Of course there has been a lot more Star Trek since then, but it actually gets easier from here. There were only two good episodes of The Fake Generation (the one where the Borg went bananas and killed nearly everybody, and the one with Mark Twain), but they were both two-parters so that adds 180 minutes to our total. There was only one decent episode of Deep Throat 69 (the tribble one) (+45 minutes), and I've never seen the one where the captain of the starship was a chick (Star Trek: Vagina?) and I'm not gonna start now (+0 minutes). Despite suffering from a slew of politically-correct bullshit (where are the short skirts?) Star Trek: Quantum Leap was criminally underrated though, so let's lowball it again and assume that five of those were pretty good (+225 minutes). There were a bunch of movies too, but only three of them don't suck (Wrath of Khan, Search for Spock, Voyage Home) so we'll add two hours for each of them. Grand total: 1485 minutes or 24 hours and 45 minutes of quality Star Trek. You could watch Star Trek for a solid day, without a break, and none of it would piss you off. You'd be a total loser though.

Luke Skywalker vs. adorable space bunnies!

Now let's see how rival series Star Wars fares. The original is great (120 minutes), and so is The Empire Strikes Back, even though that's a really stupid, clunky name for a movie (+120 minutes). The Holiday Special sucks though, and so do both of the Ewok movies (+0). Nothing happens in Return of the Jedi after they rescue Han Solo, but his rescue is pretty cool so I'll give them 30 minutes for that part. The Prequels were all total shit, The Force of Bacon was just a remake of the first one with a Death Star that went to 11, and everything since is basically disposable crap because J.J. Abrams (+0). There have been a shitload of Star Wars cartoons from the 1980s on (Droids, Ewoks, Clone Wars, Teenage Mutant Yoda Turtles, Han Solo Meets the Fonz, etc.) ranging in quality from "kind of crappy" to "mercifully short" so that's +0 again. So we're stuck at 270 minutes, 390 if the next movie is any good, which, may I remind you, J.J. Abrams. That's only six and a half hours, and then it still only works of you stop one of the movies a third of the way in. That's fucking pathetic. Star Trek for the win.

See, because Vulcans bottle up their emotions? It's a metaphor.

There you have it. Comments welcome, as long as you agree with me. Posting pictures of your hot girlfriend in a metal bikini is also encouraged.

I write books about movies. They're brilliant and you can buy them here.

Keeping up with the Satanisms

I know I haven't blogged much lately, but rest assured, things are happening. If you want to keep abreast (heh) of all things Mr. Satanism, like and/or follow my editor's official Facebook page, here: https://www.facebook.com/BradDSibbersen/

Mother of Tears - The Third Mother (2007)

Some jokers unearth this old urn, but something about it freaks out the local Catholic muckamuck so he sends the urn to Rome to get it checked out. (What doesn't freak out the Catholics? My mom's boyfriend nearly had a heart attack once because I was eating a Big Mac on the wrong day of the week or something.) The cat in charge of Esoteric Horseshit is out of the office though, so two bimbos open the package instead and naturally one of them bleeds all over the thing and suddenly the whole city is going crazy and every witch with enough frequent flyer miles is showing up to get in on the fun. Which makes Rome sound like the place to be, until you remember that 98% of witches are lesbians, and the ones who aren't are already going out with a guy who's in a band. And judging by the witches in this movie, that band is Cinderella.

Meanwhile, the mega-tasty Asia Argento is right in the thick of it, but she's so busy being chased around by hipsters, cops, gothic lolitas, and monkeys that she barely has time to expose any nipple much less figure out what to do. Eventually though she realizes that she's the main chick, so she decides to take down the queen witch once and for all, which turns out to be surprisingly easy. I'm not kidding, it takes me longer to open a bottle of beer with a cigarette lighter than it takes Asia to trounce this bitch.

I wouldn't have expected a 1000-year-old witch to look so much like one of the
Bangles. Not that I'm complaining. (Hair by Ken Paves, fake tits by Satan.)

So the end's a fizzle, and there are some pretty stupid parts along the way – like when Asia nearly drowns in raw sewage, then two seconds later doesn't have a drop of poo on her – but there's also a head crushed in a door, eyes gouged out, a spear up the cooch, a guy set on fire, an arm whacked off with a machete, a surprising amount of infanticide, rioting, vandalism, some lesbo action, and plenty of tits, so really, I got no complaints.

Asia Argento, who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.

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For more witchy goodness (and badness), check out my latest film guide Hex Crimes: The Worst Witch Movies Ever Made, free on Amazon June 20 through June 22, 2016, and only 99 cents after that. Cheap!

Beneath the Mississippi (2008)

There are two groups of people who can never be succinct: conspiracy theorists and low-budget moviemakers. Seriously, there is no reason for this Blair Witch-on-a-boat nonsense to be nearly two hours long, but I'm a sucker for movies that take place in flooded/submerged towns (I actually paid to see Hard Rain, in the theaters), so here I am again, wading (heh) through another badly-made shitfest just because it toggled one of my weird, highly-specific triggers. (Other bizarre, specialized triggers I instantly respond to are: cute Asian chicks dressed as ladybugs; any movie where someone has sex, willingly or otherwise, with a tree; and anything involving giant bees). Unlike giant, Asian bee sex however, this movie is completely incomprehensible. The picture looks like shit -- alternately too dark or super washed out -- pretty much 100% of the time, which means that while you could say that you've watched this movie, you can't honestly say that you've seen it.

Beneath the Mississippi - the thrilling climax. I'm totally not kidding here.

You can't hear a goddamned thing either, because the sound is usually completely muffled, except of course when they suddenly get one sound effect or scream right and it blows out your speakers because you had them cranked to maximum to hear the dialogue. (Maybe their microphone guy was recording the dialogue portions from... beneath the Mississippi! Ha ha! Seriously though, I wouldn't be surprised if that really was the case.) Hell, even the size of the picture keeps changing: it's like watching two people with dueling remotes fight over what aspect ratio they want to watch the movie at. I kid you not, the only way a movie could be any more visually and audibly inaccessible is if it was shot by tying a video camera to the back of a truck and dragging it around the parking lot. At night. And of course it's too fucking long, even for a movie that wasn't a fucking torture-chore to watch. (The back of the DVD case says that it's 109 minutes; when it reached the 110-minute point and still wasn't over I'm not ashamed to admit that I started crying.)

So what is it actually about? Well, since you can barely see or hear anything there's really no way to know, although the front and back of the DVD promise a flooded/haunted town so I guess that's what all the muffled assholes on screen (whoever they are) are looking for. (Of course, we never actually see this submerged town, because that might actually be interesting.) There was this ominous musical sting every so often, so I guess whatever was going on at those specific moments was supposed to be ominous, but it never seemed particularly ominous to me. Usually it was just washed-out blurs standing around mumbling. There's no sting when the audience (but not the characters) sees the first dead body though, something most people would consider pretty ominous, so maybe that's the key: maybe this entire cunt movie was made on Opposite Day, so that's why it has sound you can't hear and a picture you can't see and is ostensibly entertainment but in practice is simply waiting for it to be over. Honestly, it's all so jaw-droppingly incompetent that eventually I was just grateful that the picture was right-side-up most of the time. (Yes, at one point it isn't. But that was on purpose, probably.) 

I'm not one to engage in hyperbole and shit, but everyone who worked on this movie deserves to die.

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Want to avoid bad movies like this one? Mr. Satanism can help.

Johnny Mnemonic (1995)

Truth be told, I kinda like Keanu Reeves. Oh, he's a shitty actor (in any given role a potted plant could do better), but he's charismatic, in his own way, and he seems like kind of a nice guy. So I decided to go into this movie with an open mind, basically by ignoring everything I know about computers and, like the producers, pretending that the Internet really is an actual alternate dimension as portrayed in movies like The Lawnmower Man (1992) and Tron (1982) (and, inexplicably, again in 2010), and not merely a convenient conduit for thirteen-year-olds to call me a faggot on Reddit. Besides, the guy who wrote this movie basically invented cyberspace, so let's face it, anything he got wrong, fuck you, no he didn't.

Why?

So, Keanu plays portrays acts... Fuck. Okay, just accept that he's this guy, alright, this guy who's got computer hardware in his head and hires himself out as a sort of cybernetic courier. Basically, you upload information into his noggin and he smuggles it to another location where it can be safely downloaded. How this is preferable to just shoving a thumb drive containing the data up his ass is actually explained, but how it's easier than simply encrypting the information and e-mailing it to the intended recipient isn't. No matter, I said I'm giving this one a chance, so fine, I'll buy their (stupid) premise. It's fucking stupid though.

"He has the eyes of one who never awakes."

Naturally some bad guys are after the information in question, but Keanu's biggest problem is that the data currently loaded into his brain is 160 gigabytes over his personal capacity, which we're told is extremely dangerous. This is probably supposed to generate some additional suspense, although if Keanu Reeves shorted out half his brain I doubt we'd notice any change in his behavior whatsoever. There's plenty of violence; lots of trench coats; Ice T and Henry Rollins appear, apparently competing with each other to see who can give the most embarrassing performance (Rollins wins); the fashions are hilariously out-of-date 1980s futurisms (I can't remember the last time I saw so many people who looked like they were auditioning for the band Split Enz); the main chick is exceptionally hot and has a terrific ass; Keanu's mid-movie rant about wanting a club sandwich is fucking hilarious for all the wrong (and therefore right) reasons; and the thrilling climax, which involves a crossbow fight with the Yakuza, a junkie dolphin reading Keanu Reeve's mind, a last-minute rescue by an electronic ghost, and He-Man being cooked alive, is so delirious you can't help but love it.

Hey, baby, don't cover up on my account.

Ultimately, Johnny Mnemonic is no dumber than The Matrix (1999), and unlike The Matrix it doesn't blow its entire wad twenty minutes in and then just flail around for the rest of its running time plus two even-worse sequels. In short, I liked it. And no, I'm not being sarcastic or ironic - I actually liked it. Scout's honor.

You can see my eyes, you can tell that I'm not lyin'

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Brilliant movie reviews for a fraction of the cost. Check out the Mr. Satanism Library here.

A Good Day to Die Hard (2013)

Terrorist John "Die Hard" McClane travels to Russia, where he commits a carjacking, kills dozens of civilians during an ill-advised car chase through crowded city streets, helps an accused criminal elude the authorities, and causes untold property damage. Whenever someone questions his behavior he responds with his new catchphrase ("I'm on vacation!"), shoots them, and then sodomizes their corpse. We know Die Hard's really a good guy though, because he is willing to share the occasional "moment" with select Russians -- as long as they speak English -- and he speechifies his regrets about being a dick in the past, although this doesn't effect any of his current decisions to be a dick. Nevertheless, a few folks do try to kill Die Hard in return by shooting at him with machine guns and, at one point, a military-grade helicopter. He always manages to duck though.

A scene from one of the Die Hard movies, probably.

As an impromptu justification for murdering so many people and destroying so much shit, Die Hard decides to help the CIA -- played by his son -- smuggle a political prisoner out of the county. Having lived through seven or eight previous Die Hard movies however, Die Hard Sr. knows that there's going to be a big twist, and sure enough, the bad guy they're smuggling out of the country turns out to be a bad guy. He's confident Die Hard won't arrest him though, because "You're out of your jurisdiction, Detective McClane." He's right, of course, so Die Hard Jr. tosses him off a building and into some whirling helicopter blades instead, in a comedic callback to Die Hard 1. Because how funny is it that Die Hard 1 exists? (I assume that's the joke, since merely reminding people that a thing exists counts as jokes now.) In retaliation, the pretty girl bad guy crashes the helicopter into the building where Die Hard and his son are standing, but they both escape by jumping out a window and falling multiple stories through several harmless planes of glass. The helicopter falls the same distance but explodes (three times), killing everyone on board. Then, since they're currently at the site of the Chernobyl disaster and there is literally nothing else in the vicinity to destroy, the movie ends.

A lot of people hated this entry in the series, but fortunately Hollywood doesn't care what people think and besides, what did they expect, a bunch of hugging? Two-and-a-half stars.

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The Mr. Satanism Library

Poltergeist (2015)

Of all the classic Steven Spielburger movies, far and away the most overrated is fucking Poltergeist. Not that it doesn't have some good shit in it, but there's a point somewhere around the middle where it just totally loses its mind and stops making any goddamned sense whatsoever. So yeah, remake that bitch and let's see what happens. How bad could it be? And as it turns out this is a perfectly serviceable haunted house movie. Sure, it's not as good as the original, but frankly it's not that much worse either. They do sell some of it way too hard (everything to do with the tree), but the dumbest bits from the original (like the crawling steak) have been excised completely and if you ask me most of the scary parts in this remake work. Frankly, the only major problem with this version is the family who's getting poltergeisted. In the original they were all pretty likable, you know, for white people. Here though, not so much. The dad, for example, is a jerk, but he's one of those subtle jerks that you want to punch the second you meet but you're not exactly sure why. Guys like him never beat their kids and rarely cheat on their wives, but they think about it a lot. They usually watch too much football. The wife is far from ugly but isn't good-looking either, and has the personality of paste. She's the kind of woman you forget you once had sex with while you're still having the sex with her. The little boy, realistically annoying in the original, is taken to an extreme here. He's such a detestable sissy-bitch that you'll be praying for him to actually get eaten by the tree this time. Or the clown puppet. Or anything, really. Hell, if he just died from meningitis or something that would be fine with me. The two daughters are okay though, especially the teenager. Yum. You probably knew I was going to say that, didn't you?

                     Kndra: Rents out. Brats sleepin. Cum over an lets fuck

                     MrS: Cant. Watching Poltergeist

                     Kndra: New or old?

                     MrS: New

                     Kndra: Im breaking up w you

All the shit with the power lines and the static electricity and the electronics operating on their own reminded me of original Poltergeist ripoff Pulse (1988). (This is not a good thing.) The hands in the TV are creepy. The scene with the maxed-out credit cards is good, even if it belongs in the Amityville Horror remake more than it belongs here. The bit with the comic books is heavy-handed, stupid, and, thanks to Ghostbusters ("No human being would stack books like this."), instantly mockable. Whoever dreamed up that scene must have a pop culture awareness level of zero. The dead flowers would've been a nice, subtle touch, if the dad didn't blatantly acknowledge them, completely ruining the effect. The teenage daughter has a fantastic ass. "We're gonna get in big trouble!" was perfect, exactly the reaction a child would have. I was happy to see Jane Adams show up. I've always wanted to fuck her. The dad pukes up worms immediately after drinking some hooch, as if to say "Remember Poltergeist II? This is better than Poltergeist II, right?" The drill scene isn't bad. Their use of the drone was a clever update. I didn't get the end; are they just not going to live in a house ever again? Never thought I'd hear a Cramps song in a Spielberg movie. Okay, it's a cover of a Cramps song, but this is a remake of a Spielberg movie, so close enough.

Yes, there's no defensible reason for Poltergeist 2015 to exist, but, ultimately, there's no real reason to be upset about it either. If you're a Spielberg fan what you should really be worrying about is this: Which classic Steven Spielberg movie will they remake next?

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Read about more cinematic haunted houses here.

Monkeys & Dinosaurs!

Above: a promotional photograph from the Japanese version of Planet of the Apes, and yes that monkey in the white pimp suit is flipping us off, British style. To learn more about this terrible film, and just about every other dinosaur and/or killer monkey movie ever made, check out my latest book Monkeys & Dinosaurs: Cinema as High Art, Vol. 1, available right now on Amazon, here:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B014LH22KI

Sexting: Sex + Text = Trouble

You know what really equals trouble? Parading this slew of sex-crazed, underage hotties across my TV screen. I mean, I'm no Jared, but come on, a man can only take so much.

First up, some chippies take a few naked pics, just for a larf...

...but apparently one of them doesn't know how to use e-mail and the next thing you know their racy pictures are all over the school and on my hard drive. Er, I mean NOT on my hard drive. Because I would never. Anyway, I loved their classmate's matter-of-fact reaction to the whole thing:

Chick: "You obviously saw the pictures. They were supposed to be private."

Dude: "I guess that didn't work."

Still, there is an upside they don't mention: after a few weeks of embarrassment and grief, you know these chicks ended up being the most popular girls in school. Especially Chloe.

In our second example, this chick's jealous, creepozoid ex-boyfriend (take my word for it, she can do a lot better) sends naked pics of her to her mom, to what end I can't possibly imagine. Maybe he's trying to make the mom insecure about her own body so that he can move in, flatter her up, and possibly nail her as well, at which point he can check the ever elusive "mother-daughter combo" off his list. I joke, but that's actually not such a bad plan. Well, aside from the fact that he's 18 and his ex-girlfriend isn't, which means that he'll be doing all his future "sexting" up in the Stateville Prison. Except in this case "sexting" means "being brutally raped by his cellmate", of course.

Our final zany sexual misadventure begins when Mr. Furley... oops, sorry, wrong video. The correct misadventure begins when this kid leaves his Facebook page open and his buddy posts a bunch of hilarious filth. ("The only words here that aren't obscene are of, the, and and," someone subsequently points out.) Luckily for him, nothing really comes of it and the only indignity he suffers is getting bitched out by his sister. Who, I might add, is pretty damn tasty and is welcome to sext me any time:

That's right, I learned absolutely nothing from this video. It's called confidence. Maybe you should try it sometime. You're welcome.

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My newest book on film, Monkeys & Dinosaurs: Cinema as High Art, Vol. 1, goes on sale in one short week. In the meantime, catch up by reading all of my previous books, available here.

Snakes, Rats, Spiders, and Bats

My latest book is now available! Check it out here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XSIAZF6. Best of all, it's absolutely free starting Monday and ending on Friday, so get it while it's hot! And free. Free's the important thing.

Need a fix between fixes?

Follow me on Twitter! I post sporadically, but it's all pure gold, I assure you! Here's the link:

https://twitter.com/mrsatanism

Wild Child (2008)

Hollywood Exec: "We need a movie that will appeal to the tween girl demographic, while also satisfying the creepy old man demographic... Something I can watch with my daughter, but that, say, Mr. Satanism would also enjoy..."

Valued Assistant: "How about a movie about a naughty teenage girl who gets sent to boarding school?"

Hollywood Exec: "Go on..."

Valued Assistant: "Well, she's hot, and underage, and, you know, naughty. But not too naughty: strictly a fair-to-moderate level of out-of-control. And... her dad sends her to a British boarding school, so all the girls wear private schoolgirl uniforms and have British accents. And are underage, of course."

Hollywood Exec: "Rating?"

Valued Assistant: "Oh, PG-13, for sure. Lightweight teenage rebellion stuff. Our main girl alters her uniform so that it's sexy as fuck. Mild swearing. Implied shoplifting and underage drinking, obfuscated to such a degree that it feels like there are entire scenes missing. Maybe some property destruction. No tits."

Hollywood Exec: "No tits? But Mr. Satanism...

Valued Assistant: "Underage. Private. School. Girls."

Hollywood Exec: "You magnificent fucking bastard."

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For more girl-centric movies, check out Lifetime Movies ...for Men, on sale now.

Making Contact (1985)

By the mid-1980s, everyone wanted to ape Steven Spielberg's suburbia-centric "sense of wonder" shtick; you can see it in movies as diverse as Explorers (1985), The Gate (1987), and Pulse (1988), which, minus Spielberg's suffocating influence, would almost certainly have been a disposable children's film, an R-rated horror flick, and unproduced, respectively. Of all the late-1980s Spielberg wannabes though, the most wildly unhinged has to be Making Contact, created by Roland Emmerich, the guy who would go on to bury movie theaters in a deluge of liquid shit including but not limited to Independence Day (1996), Godzilla (1998), Eight-Legged Freaks (2002), The Day After Tomorrow (2004), 10,000 BC (2008), and so, so many more. Seriously, it's a wonder every movie fan on the planet hasn't killed themselves. Anyway, this flick concerns a kid with ESP who regularly talks to his dead pop on a toy telephone, owns a toy robot sporting the most sophisticated A.I. I've ever seen, and spends most of the running time being terrorized by the ugliest, dirtiest, smelliest (probably) ventriloquist's dummy you've ever seen.

Still waiting on that Magic, Part 2 callback.

On a scene-by-scene basis it's an awkward, clumsy disaster, full of sequences that make no real sense and that seem to have been included simply because "I dunno, magic". The end result is completely batshit retarded and plays out like a deranged alternate reality version of Poltergeist (one where Steven Spielberg ate a lot of paint chips as a child) crossed with bottom-barrel E.T. ripoff and all-time Mystery Science Theater 3000 favorite Pod People (1983), with elements from The Goonies, The Monster Squad, Poltergeist II, and Labyrinth randomly tossed into the salad for no apparent reason other than to make the end result as mind-fuckingly incomprehensible as possible. Oh, and Star Wars too, literally in this case: copyright be damned there's a scene in this movie where several kids are menaced by honest-to-fuck Darth Vader, who's sporting a lightsaber and everything. It's unbelievable. So if you've ever wondered what Steven Spielberg's early-1980s output would look like if you edited them all together into one mega movie and then let a schizophrenic person cut the result down to 75 minutes while huffing ether, well, here's your goddamned answer you fucking lunatic. The fact that the person responsible for this fuckgoggle went on to become one of the most successful people in Hollywood just goes to show that anything, and I mean anything, is possible. As long as you're a gibbering maniac.

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A Chronology on Elm Street will return next week.

Hollywood Lolitas Us Again...

Here's a few classy shots of the children's movie The Neverending Story III blatantly sexualizing an extremely underage girl:

For the full review (of the movie, not the girl, you perv), check out my latest, The Not-At-All-Cleverly-Titled Book of Dragon Movies, on sale now, exclusively on Amazon. And holy shit, if you're a Kindle Unlimited member, it's FREE! Don't have a Kindle? Relax, download this free Kindle app and read Dragon Movies, and all my books, on any device! God damn, the future is awesome, isn't it?

Q is coming...

...along with dozens of other dragon movies in my all-new book, available for pre-order RIGHT NOW. Get it here.

So... which psychotic, vengeance-crazed teenage girl would YOU ask to the prom?

Carrie White (Carrie - 1976)

 

 

Susan Bradley (Kiss of the Tarantula - 1976)

Jennifer Baylor (Jennifer - 1978)

Rachel Lang (The Rage: Carrie 2 - 1999)

Carrie White (Carrie - 2002)

Carrie White (Carrie - 2013)

It's a tough call, but I think I'd have to go with Rachel. There are no wrong answers though, so defend your choice in the comments section below.

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I write books about horror movies. The least you could do is buy them.

Armageddon (1986)

"Armageddon It"!

Fuck yeah! Actually this tape is about the end of the world, which is no laughing matter. Until about ten seconds in, when they get to the psychics. The most famous of these being Nostra-dumbass, the historical cat who could supposedly see the future but actually had the balls to say that when he wrote it down he "deliberately obscured his meaning". How convenient. (Then again, his advocates insist that he did accurately predict the rise of "Hister", whoever the hell that was.) What's particularly hilarious is how all these jokers have a fairly high success rate when they're predicting stuff that occurred up to the point when this documentary was produced, but pretty much a zero percent success rate when they're predicting stuff that's supposed to happened afterwards. Unless Northern Europe and Japan really were destroyed in 1998 and I just missed it. Hey, it's possible. I drink a lot.

China: "Our bad."

In addition to the psychics this documentary also features the ghost of Jesus's mom (who apparently likes to fly around tiny, pissant villages, terrorizing small children), survivalists, Christians, and the Swiss, who have an entire underground city to wait out the end days in that they probably built with all that Jewish gold they wouldn't give back. My absolute favorite though was the "pyramidologist"; these clowns believe that pyramids can do pretty much anything, including sharpen knives and tell the future. They're basically functional retards:

Stupid ducks...

To summarize: all of these clowns are cracked in different, entertaining ways, but the one thing they agree on is that the end is coming soon, so you might want to hit the Sam's Club and stock up on toilet paper now. Any hot chicks who survive, look me up. If it's the end of the world, I want me a harem.

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Movies, throttled into submission. The Mr. Satanism Library. Available here.

Arachnoquake (2012)

A year before Sharknado captured our hearts and imaginations there was Arachnoquake, which... didn't. Our movie begins, naturally, with an arachnoquake, one that rates a full 4.5 on the Arachno scale. As any student of seisnoarachmology knows, this almost always results in an influx of poorly-rendered killer spiders that squeak like cartoon chipmunks. Also the spiders are pink, in what I can only assume is an attempt to make this movie appeal more to young girls, one of Syfy's more elusive demographics. Pretty fucking sexist, Syfy Channel. Opposing the spiders: a drunk, barely-employable loser, and Edward Furlong (note: these are two different people). Secondary characters include: Edward Furlong's immanently bangable babe of a daughter, and... no one else of any consequence.

She's listening to Jeremih, but I can let that slide.

Giant spiders are nothing new, of course (at one point, the Syphilis Channel was churning out 3-4 giant spider movies a week), but besides their fabulous color scheme these spiders have a few other attributes that help them stand out from the cluster: they breathe fire (like Godzilla); they can walk on water (like Rik Ocasek); and they have sonar (like Batman) (fuck you, I'm sure he does). There's no plot - just one long, repetitive chase (I'm sure Edward Furlong felt right at home); the cartoon effects are fucking terrible; and, in a slyly racist touch, the two primary black characters are depicted trying to carjack everything in sight, from a trolley to a goddamned boat. Because that's what black people do, right Syfy Channel? They carjack shit. Oh, the producers heard that they rap, too, but they can't confirm this because they never met any black people. Except for Will Smith once. That cat is allight.

What's hairy, pink, and full of poison? What? Jesus Christ, you're disgusting.

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Sharks, ghosts, zombies... Mr. Satanism calls them all out, right here.

Pauly Shore is Dead (You'll Never Wiez in This Town Again) (2003)

There are two ways this could have been cool:

1. If Pauly Shore actually faked his own death, and then, after finding out what everyone said about him, revealed he was alive and made a movie about it, exposing their insincerity and hypocrisy
2. If instead of a movie, it was a newspaper headline

Unfortunately, Pauly Shore isn't dead (spoiler warning; and this might be the biggest spoiler of all time because it doesn't just spoil the movie, it spoils your whole day). And he didn't fake his own death either. Instead, this is a movie about what might happen if he faked his own death. So basically it's a bunch of people acting like they think he's dead, except they know he's not, so in reality it's just a parade of pointless horseshit. Talk about fucking lame. In fact, this is more than just fucking lame, or even FUCKING LAME. It's

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that an endlessly irritating, monkey-fucking, scab-peeling, ass-burrowing, diaper-licking, foot-smelling, jizz-leaking, pole-smoking, corn-inserting, leg-humping, biker-bathing, urine-chugging, panty-stealing, rim-jobbing, ditch-rutting, butt-picking, pit-trimming, peat-eating, anus-huffing, wino-spooning, piss-dribbling, booger-rolling, turd-saving, recycled water-chugging, ball-nuzzling, toilet-dwelling, pus-sucking, urethra-targeting, sewage-dipping, pube-farming, cum-scrubbing, oven-cleaning, snot-slurping, poodle-molesting, zit-hunting, suppository-hoarding, penis-sniffing, scat-scarfing, book-burning, blood-letting, hemorrhoid-inducing, bottom-barreling, dickless, brainless, shitless, drip-ass, talent-deficient, dandruff bag cockwipe like Pauly Shore doesn't even get that the number one rule when pulling a prank or a scam is that you actually have to pull the prank or scam. What a sack-lapping, douche-violating... well, you know.

I... I know what all of those words mean, but they make no sense in this context.

What's really astounding is the parade of famous people he convinced to be in this hoax non-hoax cunt ripoff. Sure, a lot of them are addle-fucked has-beens or all-time losers (Rico Suave; that flakey beach bum from the O. J. Simpson trial; the lead limp from Limp Bizkit), but plenty of them are totally normal celebrities, except of course for their decision to be in a Pauly Shore movie that probably didn't even pay scale.

Truly a low point in cinematic history. No, scratch that. It's a low point in everything.
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For more Hollywood hate, check out The 100 Best Movies Ever Made ...Mostly Suck, available electronically or in paperback. It's the perfect gift for the person who hates everything.