10 Graveyards That Make Us Horny as Hell

By Raven Laveaux

In a world full of bloviating misogynists and chest-pounding Jesus freaks, there is one place that you can go where everyone will actually just STFU and let you do you. That place is the cemetery.

Some people get all freaked out when they think about these domiciles of the dead, but here at Silent Motorist Media, we understand the essential value of a good graveyard. For starters, where else can a Goth teenager go to drink licorice Schnapps and howl at the moon without some pubic safety official giving them shit?

And what better place to honor our fallen legends than in their final resting places? Surely, it means more to pour one out at Graceland than it would if you dumped out a forty in your own backyard and said, “Big ups, Elvis.”

But more importantly than anything else, graveyard are just so damn sexy. I can think of no other place on earth that is as closely tied to Thanatos than a historic grave site. The following is a list of the 10 hottest graveyards around, each one of them guaranteed to make a night lover feel naughty.

1. Westminster Hall & Burial Ground

Edgar Allan Poe’s final resting place reminds us of where the decadent belong. It also reminds us that ugly men in frumpy attire with dark minds can be beyond delish. Bring a fugly mustachioed 

stranger with you and do the The Tomahawk Man proud.

2. Hollywood Forever Cemetery

There’s nothing quite as romantic as the notion of immortality and Hollywood Forever’s name conjures up images of just that. Here you can dance naked in the night like the horned up vampire that you are. Just don’t be surprised if you get busted on a 314 and face fines or jail time.

3. Old Jewish Cemetery, Prague

I don’t know about you, but I love Jewish men. They’re so clean, so calculating and their faces were made to sit on. If you’re considering a trip abroad, Prague is the place to be and the Old Jewish Cemetery is a great place to meet plaintive people who need a pity fuck.

4. Merry Cemetery

Who says graveyards gotta be all about the gloom and doom? The Merry Cemetery reminds us that cemeteries can be dead sexy and fun as all get out! The name also conjures images of Old St. Nick which is great for girls like me who grew up rubbing one out to thoughts of a big ole bear of a man with rosy cheeks pounding the holy moley outta them beneath a Christmas tree.

5. Graceland

Come for Elvis then cum at the gorgeous sight of this mansion’s magical atmosphere. If you’re not shaking your pelvis by the time you leave then you’re probably a paraplegic because you’re definitely dead below the waist.

6. Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

Where better to get some head than the home of the Headless Horseman? Located right next to the Old Dutch Church’s own burial ground where Washington Irving imagined Ichabod Crane and the terrors besieging this slumbering Upstate, New York town, Sleepy Hollow Cemetery is a definite hot spot for hardcore debauchery if you live on the East coast.

7. Bachelor’s Grove Cemetery


Don’t let the name fool you, this columbarium can accommodate swinging couples as well as any sexed up singles. Nestled deep within the woods, this cemetery’s spirits have seen more bacchanalian salaciousness than a custodian at a peep show.

8. Hillside Cemetery

There’s nothing sexy about New Jersey…unless you count this Lyndhurst burial ground which houses pop punk prince Joey Ramone. Bring your leather jacket and your knee pads. Some time in the presence of Joey’s spirit will have you wanting to gag on some D until you gargle “Gabba gabba hey!”

9.  Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris, France


What could be hotter than dry humping your broken hymen away on Jeffrey Hymen’s headstone? Here at this naughty necropolis lies the corpulent corpse of The Doors’ frontman and American poet Jim Morrison and girl, if he says to ride the snake, I’m riding that bitch bareback.

10.  Montparnasse Cemetery, Paris, France

While we’re in France, let’s stop over at Montparnasse, home to existential philosopher Emil Cioran. This Romanian pessimist was also a noted essayists and his brand of staunch anti-natalism makes this baby hater randier than a cane toad on goat weed.

FAVOR! Release

It’s official: FAVOR! is ready to meet the world. It should be available on Amazon soon, but you can get it right here, right now in PDF format for a donation of any amount.

FAVOR!, for those of you who missed yesterday’s announcement, is a “fashion, health, and… ahem… culture” magazine edited by the unbelievably unlikeable and literally fake SMM associate, Slade Bower. I like to think of FAVOR! as something like Vogue meeting Adult Swim (after getting addicted to banned weight-loss supplements and spending way too much time watching Memory Hole). This issue is NFSW (not regarding images, but written content), so use your discretion.

Click on the image below for your copy of FAVOR! in exchange for a donation of any amount exceeding $0.50. We’ll send the file to the email associated with your PayPal account. Thank you deeply for your support.

A Bucketful of Francos: Unlocking the Mystery of James Franco

Franco Bucket Design by Justin A. Burnett

Hard-hitting Investigative Journalism by Bob Freville

Back in January, five women came forward to accuse James Franco of sexual misconduct and inappropriate behavior. Among their allegations was the assertion that Franco, the 40-year old Hollywood actor and ever-prolific polymath behind the Oscar-nominated Disaster Artist, removed protective guards from female actors’ genitals while shooting a nude orgy scene so that he could more accurately simulate oral sex on them.

For those who have followed Franco’s bizarre career trajectory, such as his off-the-wall performance as white gangsta Alien in Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers, this probably didn’t come as much of a surprise. After all, the famously method actor deep throated a handgun and sang Britney Spears’ “Everytime” for that one.

Still, in the age of #MeToo, it is important to take sexual allegations seriously. No matter how much you loved Franco’s inspired turn as James Franco in the Seth Rogen film This is the End or his equally inspired paintings of James Franco, it doesn’t negate the fact that a man’s art never justifies his personal life.

After all, it’s not like we were okay with Woody Allen making a gajillion feature films after his 1992 sexual assault charges…right?

When the aforementioned allegations were levied against Franco, he was quick to take to television to refute them, saying, “The things that I heard that were on Twitter are not accurate. But I completely support people coming out and being able to have a voice because they didn’t have a voice for so long. So I don’t want to shut them down in any way.”

He was quick to add, “If I have done something wrong, I will fix it—I have to.”

How exactly one fixes past sexual misconduct is beyond this writer. Perhaps a man can jerk off over a slumbering ingenue and then make up for it by buying her an ice cream cone and some Gucci sandals…perhaps not.

Regardless, this is in keeping with the Franco we know or, at least, the Franco we think we know. Of course he would have to fix it. Franco has made a career of fixing things, especially those that weren’t broken to begin with. Remember his film adaptations of William Faulkner novels?

Of course you don’t.

Shit, Franco even directed a feature-length film inspired by deleted scenes from the Al Pacino classic Cruising!

And this is where the case of James Franco left this reporter very perplexed. The possibility of someone like James Franco wielding his industry power in an unprofessional or aggressive sexual manner is hardly unbelievable but for one simple fact: there is no one like James Franco.

Or is there?

As I labored over this case for the last several months, painstakingly analyzing the man’s career and personal appearances for signs of insidiousness, I found myself at a loss. The question I kept coming back to was this: How would this man find the time to sexually assault anyone?

How does a man earn 7 college degrees, study at Columbia University, study at Brooklyn College, study at NYU, study at Warren Wilson, earn a Ph.D at Yale, start his own film school, get trapped in a cave and cut off his own hand to free himself, star in 14 movies in one year while writing and directing six movies in the same year, record a full-length album, release a poetry collection, curate an ode to Rebel Without a Cause, host charitable events and teach filmmaking at New York University…and still find time to put his penis where it isn’t invited?

It’s hard to imagine Franco having much of a sex life and still harder to imagine Franco being able to achieve an erection without a paintbrush in one hand, a handheld camera in the other, a beret on his head and a long lens protruding from his eye socket.

The question then became, how does one man do all of these things simultaneously? The thought of it is maddening, not just to those who us who sit pretty on the sidelines, watching the spectacle that seems to be James Franco. It’s even more maddening for those plaintive struggling filmmakers who understand what goes into making one movie, let alone 20 at a time.

In contemplating all of this, I finally alighted on an explanation not just for Franco the Artist but for Franco the Perverted Disaster Artist and Potential Sexual Abuser.

There is more than one James Franco!

Consider this: Advances in modern technology have made it possible to clone living creatures. The National Human Genome Research Institute have been forthcoming about their successes and failures in the space of cloning. They have succeeded at cloning no less than 10 different animal species from a monkey to an unspecified number of sheep.

Somatic cell cloning has been the most successful form of cloning by far and while the Institute claims that human cloning is the stuff of fiction, a group out of South Korea has made claims of human cloning in the past.

My extensive analysis of this case has led to only one possible conclusion, one that may be too shocking for some of our readers. That conclusion is this: We are dealing with a bucketful of Francos here.

Reports suggest that James Franco the Man has a current net worth of around $30 million, but surely, a man who has starred in 149 film and TV projects must have earned more than that. The explanation is obvious—a good chunk of Franco’s earnings went to somatic cell cloning at a time when the scientific arm was still in its infancy and, therefore, affordable by Hollywood standards.

My research suggests that these cloning efforts were undertaken around 2012 when Franco developed an interest in making black-and-white movies about forgotten poets, and painting pictures of deer fucking and crotch Francos.

James Franco realized that he couldn’t possibly be in a loft painting squirrels, in a bathroom taking nude selfies for Facebook, on location starring in a stoner comedy, in a gay leather bar directing bikers in codpieces, at college teaching how to make movies good and on a beach penning whimsical poetry all at the same time.

This necessitated the need for more James Francos. Lo, the first James Franco clone was born. He was stout, curly haired, squinty-eyed and none-too-bright. But he had the same crinkly eyes and toothy grin that had made James Franco the Man a heartthrob. It seemed like it just might work.

And work it did for a time as Franco was able to make the jump from $100 million Hollywood blockbusters to a higher education at America’s most prestigious universities. Franco One could soak up 19th century decadence and the works of the great Dadaists while James Franco the Original was free to hang out with the Superbad boys.

Later, Franco the Original would cook vegan falafel and play rainy lo-fi jazz while Franco One relayed the details of automatic writing to his creator.

It all came off without a hitch until Franco the Original engineered one clone too many, even making the critical mistake of sending Franco One in for a subsequent cloning in his absence. The result was Franco Six, a deranged simpleton with super-human strength and a tendency to drool.

Franco Six wasted no time in directing the shit out of Franco the Original’s latest films and abusing the cast and crew of the same. Soon, the rampaging Franco Six knew that he was in danger of being taken out by his predecessors. His behavior was simply too erratic.

Committed to preserving his legacy, Franco Six locked himself inside the somatic cloning unit and set the cloning operation to ludicrous speed. In seconds flat, six more Francos were created, some of them hermaphroditic in nature.

These new bastard clone clones lacked the artistic chutzpah of their forebears, but what they didn’t have in talent they made up for in feral sexual depravity. Soon, the Franco Clone Clan had impregnated each other after rampant self-sodomy and the subspecies grew. In no time, they had taken to the streets of LA and escaped their creator’s past as a slave to James Franco’s will.

No one has claimed to have seen or heard from them since, but those who have were unaware that it wasn’t James Franco whose presence they were in. This may account for the allegations made earlier this year or, maybe, it doesn’t. But one thing is for sure—there are a lot of James Francos, too many to count… and too many to tame.

What’s New at Silent Motorist Media?

If things have seemed a bit quiet around here for the past few days, it hasn’t been for a lack of activity on our end. In fact, we’ve been hard at work with a slew of new projects and site additions for you. Some of these we can’t quite announce yet. The purpose of this post is to announce the ones we can.

  • Silent Motorist Media is officially on YouTube! That’s right, we’ve done the unthinkable and created a YouTube channel. The fact is, we’re getting so much new material to review that adapting to video format is the only logical way to proceed. For now, we’re shifting most of the album review load over to YouTube in addition to a handful of short book reviews and reader responses. While we’re still adapting to this platform and far from professional YouTubers, we’re planning on adding new content specifically designed for YouTube starting… well, now. Go ahead and subscribe to our channel to help us get this show on the road!
  • FAVOR! Magazine Release: Bob Freville and I have been working on a fun little project to explore our more satirical and humorous inclinations. This project is FAVOR!, a “fashion, health, and… ahem… culture” magazine edited by the unbelievably unlikeable and literally fake SMM associate, Slade Bower. I like to think of FAVOR! as something like Vogue meeting Adult Swim (after getting addicted to banned weight-loss supplements and spending way too much time watching Memory Hole). We’re confident that FAVOR! was pretty damn fun to make… and that’s about it. This DEFINITELY NSFW publication will be ready for download within the next day or so. While FAVOR! definitely isn’t for everyone, we’re sure those with a more twisted sense of humor will appreciate this mess. Oh, and here’s the cover, just so you can get a taste of the ridiculousness that awaits.
  • We’ve also launched an apparel store! Here, you can purchase SMM tee-shirts, hoodies, and more to support the writers and our free author promotional service. Below is a picture of me sporting our Faces of Horror: Cosmic design. Click on the link to visit!

That’s it for now. Don’t worry, there’s more on the way. Thank you for reading, and we hope you’ll stick around for the weirdness to come.

Justin A. Burnett

The Best Black Comedies You’ve (Probably) Never Heard Of

By Bob Freville

When some of us hear the word “dark,” it conjures up things like the Dark Tower movie, based on Stephen King’s iconic book series, or Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, but others among us immediately picture something completely different.

Dark comedy movies haven’t always been popular, but they’ve always been distinct from your run-of-the-mill Hollywood comedy. Where so-called comedy classics typically rely on fart jokes and gay panic humor, black comedies depend on something more nuanced.

Operating in much the same way as a horror movie does, the black comedy plays on our fears, prejudices and inadequacies to craft something that is both irreverent and arresting. Many of these films are light years ahead of their time.

For every Fargo that ends up being immediately embraced by pop culture, there are a dozen flicks like Rubin & Ed or The Cable Guy that slowly find their fanbase over a period of decades.

Here are a few of the very best black comedies around, all of which I challenge you to quote off the top of your dome.

Neighbors (1981, Avilsen)

No, I’m not talking about that appropriately sophomoric frat comedy with Seth Rogen and Zac Efron, nor am I talking about its egregious sequel that served as little more than an excuse for Hollywood to once again sexualize child star Chloe Grace-Moretz.

No, we’re talkin’ John G. Avildsen’s manic, macabre adaptation of the equally weird Thomas Berger novel. This demented tale about a sexless suburban businessman (John Belushi in an uncharacteristically subdued performance) who lives on a deserted cul-de-sac beside a dangerous electrical tower explores upward-mobile ennui like few others.

Neighbors concerns what happens when the life of a bored middle-aged couple is disturbed by the arrival of a strange, swinging twosome (Dan Aykroyd and Cathy Moriarty) with a penchant for lies, manipulation, loud music and shotguns.

The role of Vic is easily Aykroyd’s greatest role to date with his oddly disquieting contact lenses, gold tooth, cheap bottle blond dye job and towering presence. The movie is made that much stranger by Bill Conti’s anachronistic theremin score that seems pulled from an old Ed Wood alien movie.

Straight to Hell (1987, Cox)

Alex Cox had already proven himself a pioneer with the punk rock pastiche Repo Man when he and Clash frontman Joe Strummer decided to make a sort of pseudo-concert movie together. This psychedelic spaghetti western isn’t exactly Quadraphoenia or Tommy: The Who, but it’s certainly a roundup of the most interesting acts in punk rock from the time.

The rag tag cast of rugged characters includes Cox regular Dick Rude as well as the members of The Pogues and a pre-nose job Courtney Love. The plot is half-baked at best (a group of inept bank robbers tear up a desert town full of derelicts when they’re not swilling coffee or slicking their hair back with gasoline), but the real treat is the manic passion of its eclectic cast.

In his book, X Films: True Confessions of a Radical Filmmaker, Cox talks about what a nightmare it was trying to coax a performance out of the very wooden Jim Jarmusch, a noted indie auteur in his own right and an occasional character actor.

Today, Straight to Hell has achieved cult status, but at the time, this shoestring action-comedy slipped through the cracks, no doubt in part because of its bizarre blend of gallows humor and over-the-top ensemble.

How to Get Ahead in Advertising (1989, Robinson)

Before Bizarro became a literary genre, filmmakers like David Cronenberg and Terry Gilliam gave us weird visions unlike anything we’d seen before or have really seen since. One such filmmaker was Bruce Robinson.

The British director is best known for the Gonzo drunks on holiday picture Withnail & I. Weird and wild in its own right, ‘Withnail’ is best remembered for the brilliant and infinitely quotable performance of Richard E. Grant as the titular souse who spouts proclamations like “I feel like a pig shat in my head” and “We want the finest wines known to humanity. And we want them here and we want them now!”

Grant returned to top form for this forgotten gem, a film Robinson fondly or not-so-fondly refers to as “The Boil.” Grant plays Dennis Dimbleby Bagley, a shrewd young marketing exec struggling to hatch an ad slogan for a new pimple cream.

Dennis’s frustration ends up growing into a boil on his neck, a boil which soon transforms into an even more repulsive version of him. To say any more would be to spoil a movie that is every bit as relevant and weird today as it was on the cusp of the Nineties.

Meet the Applegates (1990, Lehmann)

This one is up there with underrated greats like 1985’s Transylvania 6-5000 and 1989’s The ‘Burbs when it comes to twisted black comedies. After he delivered the pitch black anti-rom-com Heathers but before he gave us the armed rock n’ roll wannabes comedy Airheads, Michael Lehmann infested movie theaters with this smart satire about American mores.

Meet the Applegates is the story of Dick, Jane, Sally and Johnny Applegate, a foursome of giant, killer bugs from a South American rainforest who pose as a Leave it to Beaver-style suburban family in order to take down a nuclear power plant.

Of course, things don’t go as planned and blood is spilled as the Applegates eliminate the “homo sapien scum.” A fun and fucked up little romp, Meet the Applegates holds up in 2018 because its subject matter remains a problematic issue in the age of fracking and toxic shock.

Rubin & Ed (1991, Harris)

Some will recognize Crispin Glover’s Rubin from his now-notorious appearance on Letterman, but it was here that audiences (you know who you are) really got to know the guy with the long, bushy hair, ill-fitting bellbottoms and platform boots.

It’s really impossible to describe this zany, unpredictable flick without doing it a disservice. Yes, it’s a satire of self-help gurus, a riff on ancient cultures and a portrait of the awkward bond that develops among men. But it’s also a movie about a cat who can eat a whole watermelon.

Writer-director Trent Harris (Plan 10 from Outer Space) is currently crowdfunding a spiritual sequel to Rubin & Ed called Echo People. To learn more about it, you can click here.

The Dark Backward (1991, Rifkin)

Easily the strangest story about stand-up comedy ever committed to celluloid, The Dark Backward follows the journey of Marty Malt (a career-defying turn by Brat Packer Judd Nelson), the world’s worst stand-up comic. Marty is a garbageman whose only fan is his obnoxious and manipulative co-worker Gus (the late-Bill Paxton at his most unbridled).

Marty and Gus live in a trash-strewn world illuminated in queasy green and brown hues, a world that feels perpetually blighted by grease and decay. When Marty grows a third arm out of his back, Gus tells him he’s a “weirdie,” but he also suggests that this might be the big break they’ve both been dreaming of.

When a sleazy third-rate talent agent named Jackie Chrome (Wayne Newton with a John Waters mustache) learns of this deformity, he decides to leverage it as a gimmick to get Marty and his accordion-playing garbage buddy a gig on a daytime variety show.

This doesn’t begin to cover the highs and lows of grue and grotesquerie on display in Adam Rifkin (Look, Detroit Rock City)’s debut film, but it does scratch the grotty surface. Viewers will be treated to plenty of oddball humor and unforgettable lines like, “Well, pickle my tongue!” They’ll also watch legendary actor James Caan (The Godfather) play the screen’s worst doctor.

The Dark Backward is the darkest of comedies, but it’s also one of the absolute best. Watch it on repeat for all of the Blump’s easter eggs hidden throughout.

The Vagrant (1992, Walas)

Bill Paxton was back for another bugfuck black comedy with this psychological quagmire. The Vagrant follows Graham Krakowski (Paxton), here pronounced “crack house ski,” a young professional who buys a house in an unnamed city and sets about living the high life before a peculiar hobo sets up shop across the street and begins driving Crackhouseski up a fucking wall.

Graham believes that this slobbering, deformed vagrant is not only taunting him but actually breaking into his home. As paranoia mounts and his friends turn their backs on him, Graham becomes obsessed with a mysterious paperback book left for him in his bathroom.

The book may just hold the key to figuring out who the vagrant is and what his intentions for poor Mr. Crackhouseski are. This one is a wild ride with a gloriously batty original score and the kind of inimitable production design pioneered by The Dark Backward before it.

Ed & His Dead Mother (1993, Wacks)

Steve Buscemi is one of the godfathers of the black comedy, having appeared in everything from Barton Fink and Fargo to In the Soup and Living in Oblivion, but this early-Nineties bizarrothon is one of his weirdest.

In the pic, Buscemi plays a sexless mama’s boy who runs the family hardware store and mourns the passing of his beloved matriarch…until John Glover shows up looking like Mephistopheles…if Mephistopheles dressed like Tom Wolfe.

Glover works for the Happy People Corporation, a spurious entity that carries an LLC on its name (of course). Glover says that his company is in the business of making people happy and swears that, for a nominal fee (everything Buscemi’s got), he can bring mama back from the dead, “good as new.”

Mama comes back alright with a taste for cockroaches and a case of blood lust. If that doesn’t sound crackers enough, just you wait. You’ll never think of a John Deere the same again.

Lucky (2004, Cuden)

Nope, this isn’t the introspective 2017 drama starring Harry Dean Stanton, rather it is a microbudget horror fantasy with a decidedly demented sense of humor. Following the floundering life of alcoholic cartoon writer Millard Mudd, Lucky presents what happens when a loser’s claustrophobic world collapses in on itself, giving way to delusion.

In the flick, Millard’s whole world turns around with the arrival of a talking dog whose name is Lucky. Lucky’s presence in Millard’s life leads to Millard meeting the love of his life. But Lucky has a plan for Millard’s future and there is no room in that plan for a love interest.

Lucky’s warped visual and tonal perspective is best represented by the sheer volume of empty beer cans strewn around Millard’s apartment in impressively huge piles. Everything about this film is oversized and outrageous, but this excess is expertly rendered in a measured way.

This one predates the exceptional talking animal Ryan Reynolds comedy The Voices by ten years, but it’s every bit as awesome as its successor.

God Bless America (2011, Goldthwait)

Bobcat Goldthwait is, perhaps, the best and most original independent filmmaker working in America today (check out his genre-bending anthology series Monsters & Misfits on truTV). It is only fitting that he should make a movie with America in the title.

Fed up with his shitty family, his shitty neighbors and the shitty culture that would exploit the oblivious for laughs, Frank Murdoch (played by the woefully unsung Joel Murray) fantasizes about murder until one too many egregious reality TV shows sends him running for the gun closet.

What follows is a misguided murder spree with a damaged teenage girl as the self-appointed Bonnie to his disgruntled and middle aged Clyde. In interviews, Goldthwait has said that he likes to make comedies out of the material that would normally be used for drama which explains this colorful mashup of Badlands, Bonnie & Clyde and Harold & Maude.

If you’ve ever dreamed of mowing down inconsiderate teens who talk during a movie screening or imagined how satisfying it would be to take down a spoiled cunt in a tiara on MTV’s My Super Sweet Sixteen then this is the black comedy for you. Bloody good stuff!

There are many excellent black comedies that didn’t make this list, but it’s not for lack of quality. If you’ve already seen all these incredible titles, consider checking out Steven Soderbergh’s Schizopolis, Derek Jarman’s charmingly wacked Jubilee or Peter Berg’s underrated yet highly influential Very Bad Things.