Review: One Eyed Monster
Wednesday, June 30th, 2010
There are some films that are so awfully craptacularly pathetically bad, that they’re actually kind of cool.
Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, anything by Ed Wood, and now One Eyed Monster.
There are some films that are so awfully craptacularly pathetically bad, that they’re actually kind of cool.
Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, anything by Ed Wood, and now One Eyed Monster.
Reading The Age this morning, I could not believe my eyes when I stumbled across a singularly significant name! (more…)
See, I use this as therapy. I’m not actually up here trying to get you guys to laugh, so much as get some shit off my chest. Laughter is a bonus. But let’s see if we can get a bonus round going.
In the meantime sit back, take a stiff shot and here we fucking go.
Regulars here know I’m jewish.
Ooooh, jewish blogger. Big fucking surprise. A jewish blogger that loves to have his lunatic rants and that’s unemployed.
Jewish blogger that’s unemployed and neurotic?!!? How many stereotypes can I be?
Does comedy? I do.
Failed at acting? Certainly.
Drinking? Check!
Smoking? For sure!
Self destructive arsehole? Why not.
Good with math? I’ll do your fucking taxes so long as you pay me.
Yeah, angry. Very fucking angry.
See, I’m not a terribly good jew. In fact, I’m something of an anti-semite.
If I was any other racial group, it’d just be me poking shit… But if you’re a jew and you make jokes about jews, you’re a self-hating anti-semite.
I never got that shit, actually. I don’t hate myself at all. I just hate every other fucking jew I end up meeting.
If you hate yourself, you commit suicide… or start watching daytime TV.
I love myself. I jerk off every damn chance I get and I’ll wax my own arsehole.
Anyone here ever considered waxing someone’s arsehole when they don’t like them?

Sometimes I need a little something to get me started...
Fuck no! You only do that shit for someone you intend to stick your dick or your tongue into, and if I could I would, but I can’t so I have to settle for the fucking wax job and maybe the odd fist.
And that’s how I know there is no god!
That’s what finally made it click for me.
All the wars? God has his people.
All the poverty and misery? God works in mysterious ways.
Evil and cruel people getting ahead at life at the expense of the Just and the Good? God is testing your faith.
Anal hair?
Clearly we are random by products of an uncaring process of evolution, because I hate to think we’re created in god’s own image and still have hairs growing out of our arses!

Gods arse is actually in the Cistine Chapel. It's the one of the left.
In this scenario, the alternative, that god does indeed exist, is actually even worse. It goes to show that god is clearly either insane, uncaring, or the most callously evil being to exist… And not just because your assfro has no practical purpose other than to ensure you can’t pass on your seed. Look at this Cistine Chapel shit painted by Michaelangelo. Does god have enough hair to make plugs with when he starts going bald? Hell no. Smooth as the day he was born of himself to a virgin so he could sacrifice himself to himself in order to save you all from the original sin which he actually kinda made you do in the first place. And I thought my mother was good at convoluted psychology to make me feel guilty.

No, Hasselhoff is definitely better for this
Or maybe that anal hair is just there to catch the fish.
What the fuck do I know, it’s nearly 2am and I have shit to do tomorrow.
The stench was terrible.
She lay there, tied to the bed, bound in ways that defied logic, defied sense, defied any reasonable need to prevent someone’s movement let alone any particular kinky desire for restraint.
Ropes tied to ropes bound about more ropes lashed to further ropes which ensured the complete submission of the flesh to which they were all insidiously preventing any movement at all.
The excessive arrangement alone could have caused death in any number of ways. Coagulation of the blood in situ, embolisms, lack-of-oxygen based gangrene, just to name a few.
But that was not what killed her.
The stench was terrible, and the scene to which it an integral part of was worse if such a comparison could be made by a sane mind. The stench was blood. The stench was rot and decay. The stench was simply a cherry on the top of what a darker mind would call an icecream sundae of a murder.
Full of nuts.