Terminal Brain Parasite Spreads to the Left

The insidious organism that has long preyed upon those of White Anglo Saxon stock has somehow become more pervasive in recent months. The elusive ethnocentrada broca’s aphasia worm or hate-leech, for short, has taken charge of its new hosts at an alarming rate.

In the span of less than five years, it has begun to multiply. In 2013, we saw the hate-leech take hold of outspoken Democrat and SNL star Alec Baldwin. Baldwin was seized by the frontal lobe fiend while dealing with a paparazzo who he then involuntarily called a “cocksucking fag.”

The entertainment industry seemed largely unconcerned as it appeared to be a situation that was contained, but in no time the parasite had multiplied and New York congressman Anthony Weiner was replaced by Carlos Danger, one of the hate-leech’s aliases. Danger then sent unsolicited dick pics to a 15-year old girl.

The country was able to confine the parasite for a period of 21 months, after which it was once again unleashed upon humanity. While law enforcement agencies kept a close eye on the weiner worm, their efforts appear to have failed as the scourge continues to proliferate.


It is with a heavy heart that we report on the fall of CNN commentator Marc Lamont Hill who was possessed by the ethnocentrada broca’s aphasia worm during his speech with the United Nations on November 28th.

Lamont Hill advocated violent resistance against Israel and called for the expansion of Palestine “from the river to the sea.” This blatant anti-Semitism was shocking enough in its own right, but it paled in comparison to the faces of Lamont Hill’s liberal colleagues, particularly the black and Jewish ones.

Still, all of this was nothing compared to the revelation earlier this morning that HuffPost would be changing its name to TuffPost and running hit pieces about the Hasidic community. This news came to us just hours after one of our trusted sources told us that plans were underway to round Hollywood’s top actors and produces up into internment camps until Palestine could extend all the way to America.

It is a strange time to be alive in the U.S., especially for those of us who have ear canals through which these malignant parasites can travel. Be safe, my fellow homosapiens.

-B.F. 2018

Alternative Cinema Goes Bye-Bye: A Final Farewell to Tempe Video

By Bob Freville

Tempe Entertainment was founded in 1991, but I didn’t hear about them until the mid-90s when I happened upon an enthralling profile of Tempe founder J.R. Bookwalter in Fangoria magazine. The article in question painted a picture of DIY innovation before DIY was part of the pop culture lexicon.

Upon reading about Bookwalter’s debut film, The Dead Next Door, and the bloody shoestring production of his next movie, Ozone, it became clear that this Akron, OH resident was at the vanguard of a new microbudget horror movement, one that was making movies for peanuts and pubic hair.

After making a dynamic debut with The Dead Next Door, a unique take on the zombie genre that was partially funded by Sam Raimi, Bookwalter churned out a series of passionless no-budget quickies for producer David DeCoteau before turning his frustration with this thankless work into a goal – create a company that can do more with less.

Founded in 1991 during post-production on ‘Dead Next Door,’  Tempe Video’s ethos was simple; as Bookwalter told Michael Scrutchin of Flipside Movie Emporium, “Whatever some guy in his backyard comes up with will be infinitely more passionate and honest than the crap Hollywood churns out on a weekly basis! I say get out there and do it! Now there is no excuse.”

Tempe Entertainment wasn’t waiting for some hotshot honcho to stick millions of dollars in escrow and assign executives to lob a flurry of notes at Bookwalter’s scripts. Instead, the Tempe team were turning their backs on the silver screen machine and building the direct-to-video market into a prosperous new avenue for indie talent.

Over the ensuing three plus decades, that talent has brought us fabulous cheapy features like the batshit psychological drama Eddie Presley and the fiendishly funny Filthy McNasty quadrilogy, to say nothing of Bookwalter’s own brilliant drug scourge thriller Ozone. Their catalog reflects the full width and breadth of no-budget horror, warts and all.

A lot of their titles are excruciatingly bad, but their egregiousness is part of their charm. Like other indie houses, such as Troma Team Releasing and Full Moon, the videos of Tempe Video are either shockingly well-crafted or so poorly crafted that the fun is in imagining the filmmakers’ state of mind during production.

Recently J.R. Bookwalter took to social media to announce that the company would no longer be producing motion pictures. In a Facebook post, Bookwalter writes, “All good things must come to an end, which is why we’re announcing today that Tempe Entertainment will be packing our bags and heading to that great indie retirement home in the sky on January 1, 2019.”

The news was a blow to those of us who place importance on indie film distribution. With streaming platforms fast replacing traditional distribution paradigms, it is unnerving to see a legendary studio like Tempe turning out the lights.

Like Crystal Pepsi, Tempe Video may be back one day, but it will never be the same again.

It would be all too easy to say that this spells the end for indie horror, but Tempe Video has served as a guidepost for innumerable indie houses to sprout up all across the country and today horror production companies number in the hundreds.

Outfits like Blumhouse, Brain Damage, Breaking Glass Pictures, Darclight, Dark Sky Films, Glass Eye Pix and Unearthed Films are rolling out a king’s ransom of cool titles that stretch the boundaries of what is possible with the kitchen sink approach.

The last ten years have given us modern macabre classics like Chad Ferrin’s mindfuck slasher Someone’s Knocking at the Door (2009), Adam Wingard’s genre-bending DXM trip/ghost story Pop Skull (2008), the Trent Haaga-penned cumming-of-age flick Deadgirl (2008), Ti West’s old school Satanic panic film The House of the Devil (2009) and the slippery sci-fi cringer Honeymoon (2014).

We’ve also seen genre exercises like You’re Next propel directors like Wingard into the mainstream where they were given the opportunity to make exceptional genre films (The Guest, Blair Witch) with a slightly grander scope.

These videos and films owe much to the Tempe Video model of frugal, makeshift innovation. It’s hard to imagine directors like Kevin Smith (Red State, Tusk) being able to successfully stage movie road shows or directors like Rob Zombie (31) being able to raise post-production monies using crowdsourcing had it not been for companies like Tempe Video paving the way.

Many great filmmakers are shooting feature-length flicks in 30 days or less and finding creative solutions to problems that present themselves on the day. And there are a lot of little production houses out there who are able to write, produce, direct and release their own pictures on little more than a prayer.

But Tempe did it first and they did it the best. Indie horror—Esto Perpetua.

NSFW You Can’t Make This Shit Up: Red Dead Redemption Gets a Porn Parody

The hit video game Red Dead Redemption 2 just got its on X-rated parody courtesy of Woodrocket and Pornhub. The feature-length fuck flick, subtly entitled Red Dead Erection, premieres on Pornhub today and it’s absolutely FREE to watch.

Check out the trailer over on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hokA0ACcCU

Red Dead Erection is written and directed by Vuko and Lee Roy Myers. It stars April O’Neil, Codey Steele, Lance Hart, Leya Falcon, Daisy Ducati and Cassandra Cain.

The plot is delightfully schlocky:

When Arthur Organ and the rest of his cowboy outlaw gang get chased out of Blackwater, they learn that once you go Blackwater, you can never go backwater. So, they hit the unpaved road and go on an epic Western sex-venture filled with sperm bank robberies, saloon shootouts, leading to the law chasing them down, two in the Pinkerton and one in the stinkerton. Also, there will be Cowgirl and reverse Cowgirl. Obviously.

Like and share this post, and we’ll love you long time.

Horror Lives (No Matter What Vogue Tells You)


It would seem that every year something has to be declared dead. Last year, people were postulating that Minecraft was on its way out, yet game sales hit 122 million copies in the very first quarter.

The year before, Forbes was saying that rock was dead (I guess they forgot that shock rocker Marilyn Manson beat them to the punch 18 years earlier). Even one of our own brood, Mr. Zakary McGaha, claimed that horror was dead earlier this year (McGaha can be excused for his rash remarks for two reasons: 1) he is very young and 2) he is a massive horror fan).

If you’re going to declare something dead, you need to know what you’re talking about. There’s a reason you won’t find Silent Motorist Media declaring the end of, say, fashion in 2018. When the “clickbait” phenomenon infiltrates even “respected” publications, however, the first thing we can expect is an influx of sensationalist claims regarding every aspect of entertainment from people as far from qualified as Kanye is from being a professional plastic surgeon.

In a short but hardly sweet hatchet piece for none other than Vogue.com, Taylor Antrim—a writer whose name conjures an image of some silver spoon-sucking snot throwing a temper tantrum because he didn’t get his mid-morning flan—makes sweeping generalizations about the year that horror has been having.

Yeah, you know. The year that David Gordon Green’s Halloween sequel broke box office records and horror magazines returned to print. That year.

In this passive-aggressive hit piece, Antrim postures like he’s a horror fan, but he seizes every opportunity to invoke that word invented by the Oscar-baiting mainstream, “thriller.” This comes off less like a fan lamenting the loss of quality horror movies and more like someone pushing the idea of the genre being fungible.

In fact, most of his lament centers around claims that 2018’s horror movies aren’t really horror films, as if pushing boundaries and challenging audience expectations hasn’t been a major aspect of horror’s success throughout the past decade (even though he openly lauds Jordan Peele’s “masterpiece” Get Out to the point that he claims it “should have won that Oscar”). At the same time Antrim also criticizes Halloween for being a “retro slasher.”

So, either the new stuff ain’t horror, or it’s too traditional? Antrim is a profoundly difficult horror fan to please. Either that, or he’s simply more interested in making grand statements about the genre than making sense.

“Remember when horror was good?” he asks, as if he’s recalling a faint and distant memory. Paradoxically, he mentions movies like Hereditary, which prove that horror is still as vital and boundary-pushing as ever.

Clickbait-y horror site Bloody Disgusting was quick to fire back, writing, “Typical for pieces of this sort, the article has no clear point and builds up to nothing; mostly, it’s supported by the writer’s viewing of Winchester, The Nun and Slender Man, three not-so-great films that offer only a fraction of horror that was put on display this year.”

As we mentioned before, it’s not like this is the first time someone has suggested that horror is seeing its demise, but it’s definitely the first time that someone so grossly out-of-touch has dared to say it.

As our resident poet and fellow horror fanatic Josh Darling puts it, “How adorable it is that Vogue magazine has an opinion on horror. That’s like a mongoloid’s opinion of quantum physics—completely irrelevant. I can hear the mental stutter of ‘…but, but, but…Vogue is a well-written and important magazine.’

“Yes, okay, maybe, but that statement isn’t all that true. Vogue is a well-written fashion magazine. What Vogue has to say about horror is about as on point as what Fangoria has to say about fashion week in New York.”

Darling quickly adds that if horror were doing so poorly, magazines like Fangoria and Rue Morgue wouldn’t be returning to print after going digital. He also notes that Antrim isn’t exactly a known member of the horror community: “Mr. Antrim wrote a book that is a ‘fast-paced literary thriller,’ not a horror novel. He doesn’t have degree in film. He does have an MFA in writing, and the bulk of his work is lit fic, not horror or any of its sub-genres.”

Obviously, that didn’t stop Vogue’s Executive Editor from weighing in on the subject. Antrim says that television is where the action is, but even here he misses the boat, claiming that it has yet to yield anything really interesting.

Clearly, Antrim hasn’t watched the latest season of the SyFy creepypasta anthology, Channel Zero. And it’s particularly ironic when he rips on the Hulu horror antho Into the Dark, given how the first two installments have captured the “fun,” and “dark delight” that Antrim calls for in his article.

As if “fun” and “delight” are the essential qualities of horror in the first place. Antrim explicitly singles out Hereditary for lacking these elements. I suspect Antrim thinks art should be more like a Polaroid of a birthday party than a representation of despair, suffering, or any of those other inconveniently serious aspects of existence. For such a fan of horror, Antrim sure seems more than ready to nullify most of genre with his yardstick of “fun” and “delight.” To be sure, no one would accuse The Exorcist or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Devil’s Rejects of being fun, at least not in the traditional sense of the word.

As for horror on the small screen, you’d have to be one twisted fucker to say that The Monsters are Due on Maple Street or Five Characters in Search of an Exit were fun.

Of course, it shouldn’t come as a great shock that a Vogue editor would talk about TV when the subject is horror cinema. After all, ever since True Detective and Breaking Bad broke new ground, TV has been sooo in vogue. You can barely go a day without hearing about how long form storytelling is “where it’s at” or how television is experiencing a renaissance … whatever the fuck that means.

But what is surprising is just how desperate Antrim is to convince readers that he knows horror. When he writes “I really do see all these movies,” you want to pat him on the head and say, “sure you do, pal.”

That sense of begrudging pity for the man swiftly dissipates when he says, “…just living through 2018 has felt a bit like a horror film.”

As Randy from Scream would say, “fuck youuuuu!”

If Vogue pays for such hackneyed “observations,” we would all do well to bone up on the world of runway models and Versace gowns.

Antrim wraps up his disgraceful piece with the suggestion that people go to the horror genre for a semblance of control. What could be further from the truth? When I think back to the first time I saw Eli Roth’s Hostel in the movie theater, and how I damn near crushed my girlfriend’s hand during the ball gag-and-chainsaw sequence, I don’t remember any sense of control.

Instead, I remember feeling like a gasket that was about to blow. And when that ball gag finally came out and Magnum PI started nipping at his would-be executioner’s fingertips, I remember feeling a brief sense of relief, followed in quick succession by another wave of tension.

While the environment in which we experience horror does remain controlled, we watch horror in order to dissolve the divide between the plastic world of art and the horror of existence to the greatest extent possible. The semblance of control is exactly what we want to lose.

This is the point of horror: to take us to dark and dangerous landscapes where we feel as cornered as the characters, where we can vicariously experience the brutality and madness they undergo. It’s a cinematic dance with Thanatos, an artistic experience of our inherent death impulse, like doing poppers with Dionysus on the edge of a very tall building when the moon is hiding behind the clouds.

Antrim ends his piece by saying, “Here’s to the golden age of horror returning in 2019,” a sentence that’s essentially an oxymoron. As our own Josh Darling points out, “many horror fans will tell you the Golden Age of horror happened already. It started in the 70s and ended in the late 80s.”

Others would point to the Hammer horror films of the mid-fifties as the golden age, but that doesn’t negate the fact that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of horror titles released direct-to-DVD every year, and not all of them are garbage.

More and more, we see limited run or direct-to-streaming horror that surpasses its theatrical counterparts in almost every way. This year’s Tales from the Hood 2 stands out as a straight-to-video flick that is largely superior to its predecessor, both in terms of special effects and storytelling.

Other 2018 horror entries that have kicked major ass include Mandy, The Strangers: Prey at Night, Unsane, Annihilation, Upgrade, The House That Jack Built, Incident in a Ghostland and Overlord.

And that’s just to name the most prominent examples of good horror that did great this year. There are plenty of awesome low-budget horror movies being turned out every single day. Shit, even YouTubers are getting in on the action and at least one horror fan successfully crowdfunding the unofficial Friday the 13th sequel that we’ve all been waiting for (whether we knew it or not).

We watch these movies and we enjoy the hell outta them. Not because they’re all great, but because they all explore something that no other genre is able to tap into.

Kurt Vonnegut once said, “the most exquisite pleasure in the practice of medicine comes from nudging a layman in the direction of terror, then bringing him back to safety again.” And that does a pretty damn good job of explaining the practice of all great horror auteurs.

They do not seek to offer viewers control. They’d rather pull a Hitchcock and play the audience like a piano. And we love them for it. Here’s to being out of control.

Bob Freville, Justin A. Burnett

You Can’t Make This Shit Up: Marilyn Manson Edition

Welcome back to You Can’t Make This Shit Up, our sporadic column exploring news too bizarre not to be true. Today we learned that shock rocker and unpredictable multi-hyphenate Marilyn Manson made a dildo with his face on it.

This may not seem particularly outrageous or surprising to those familiar with the God of Fuck’s work or personal life. After all, Manson has had everyone on his dick from Rose McGowan and Dita Von Teese to Florence Henderson and Daryl Hannah (in theory).

With that said, the dildo’s dimensions are almost as questionable as the notion of putting Manson’s face inside of your orifice(s). The Marilyn Manson Double Cross Dildo + Bag, which is listed as costing a whopping $125 before shipping, is eight inches “tall,” but it’s only 1.5 inches in diameter.

Personally, I’m a grower, not a shower, so I’m not one to judge. However, by all accounts, Manson is very well-endowed which makes this news ponderous. We already know Manson’s got a big dong, but if this dildo is, in fact, as “lifelike” as Manson’s web store says, does that mean that the Antichrist Superstar’s many sexual conquests have been handling a bonafide Twizzler dick?

That’s why Silent Motorist is here…to pose the hard questions in these flaccid times. Like, share and comment or we’ll boof your mom.