Image via The Lineup

That’s EXACTLY how I fucking feel: smashed crashed and fucking hopeless, yeah, yeah, yeah.




Happy Birthday, Beloved Dakota


My daughter is 14 years old today. She likes to wear my shirts, see above. She cares for her cats so much she carts them around in a very cool bike. She plays the Sax. She is fearless. She successfully challenged and changed her school’s ridiculous dress code. She is ridiculous. I love her so much. She just ruined her laptop. She is a Martial Artist. She watches Grey’s Anatomy with frightening NetFlix frequency. She had a nemesis on her bus. Her best friend Bella is badass. She’s about to enter High School. She is wise. She is at times an infuriating wiseass.

I love her so much.


Oh, Happy Birthday, baby.

Sabrina The Cat was harmed during this photoshoot. She was tortured, burned, and strangled until we got the shot right. All blame goes to Dakota. Please forward all legal papers to her.


Recent Films CC @mlleghoul @malcoJOJO @gfstudio @casketglass


24097 - Ladies in Retirement

ladies ret2






HELLO, this is Drax on the I-radio and we are PAGING @mlleghoul! Holy fucking shit, LADIES IN RETIREMENT (1941) screams your name! It has everything in your soul: Weird Sisters! Insanity! HIGH ANXIETY RE REAL ESTATE AND LIVING CONDITIONS. Gloomy trees and ancient English Cottages and MEN WHO BEHAVE VERY BADLY AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF DESPERATE WOMEN and death, and murder. It’s all you, honey.








Buzzzzz-ka-ZAMP! Back on the radio and paging @malcoJOJO! Wow, surely one of  Seagal’s lowest moments but a surprisingly entertaining romp and chase and chew through a vampire-infested hospital! Seagal and his black-clad vampire hit-squad are like a squadron of imperial TIE Fighters from fucking Star Wars: They zoom in! They strike with no mercy! They speak little! They zoom out! Meanwhile, packs of hapless humans trapped in the hospital argue incessantly about WHICH WAY TO GO under constantly flickering buzzing lights, because “The generator will fail any minute!” Science 101 to both third graders and filmmakers: generators don’t work that way. Anyway, Against The Dark offers one or two surprising twists and flashes of originality. Check it out with your kids, a very drunk friend, or the weird lady down the street who’s in dire need of an escape from her grim reality. Do it!


THE ORDER (2003)






BZZZ-ZAKA-ZAKA-ZOMP! Yes, still on the radio waves and paging @gfstudio and @casketglass! Holy fucking cats on fire, THE ORDER is the hottest of hot messes ever belched from a blender! Kids, BEWARE THE ALLURE OF THE DREAM/PET PROJECT. I’m talking about Battlefield Earth by John Travolta or DOOMTROOPERS by Simon Drax: beware the pet project! It always fails.

Because THE ORDER, written, produced, and directed by Oscar Winner Brian Helgeland is clearly a piece of shit “epic” he carried around in his head for decades. Warrior priests! Evil children! Demons! Sexy ethereal girlfriend! Immortals! SIN EATERS!

There’s nothing sadder than watching/reading/witnessing a piece of “art” that obviously entailed a shitload of blood and sweat and tears but by the final reel, by the last page, it’s just a piece of shit, man.

BBBBZZZZZZZT… and we’re off the air.


Fuck Everything, It’s Friday


via @ @


Memento Mori

It’s been a rough month. The Reaper’s been busy: the fuckwad in South Carolina who emptied his clip at a goddamn Bible MeetingChristopher Lee, James Salter, and William George Clark.


He raised daughters and sons. He had a century’s worth of wisdom. I liked him a lot.

“Death sucks.” — Tim O’Brien

It is the slow death that hurts the worst. That long letting go.

Yes, it is tragic when a young one is cut down before his/her “time.” But watching and witnessing our elderly fade is a heartbreak of a singular nature. The Hours. The Minutes.

That mighty brain encased in a crumbling shell.

It is unfair. Like all lifeforms on Earth, unfair.

I am an atheist. I love Trees and The Moon, The Ocean and The Wind. These are aesthetic choices. I do not believe in Heaven, I do not believe in a better place.

But those who have left us have left us better, through their strength, their endurance, their love. We must honor their strength, and carry on.



“I played my cat some Sisters of Mercy records and he’s not been the same since.” via ‏@geraintgriffith



“I hear the songs of the city and the dispossessed.”


“If you fell into a black hole, it’s not clear how you would die.”


Will gravity rip you apart and crush you into the black hole’s core? Or will a firewall of energy sizzle you into oblivion? Could some essence of you ever emerge from a black hole? First posited by a group of theorists including Donald Marolf, Ahmed Almheiri, James Sully and Joseph Polchinski in March 2012, the question of how you would die inside a black hole is probably the biggest debate in physics right now. It’s called the firewall paradox.

Based on the mathematics in Einstein’s 1915 General Theory of Relativity, you would fall through the event horizon unscathed before gravity’s force pulled you into a noodle and ultimately crammed you into singularity, the black hole’s infinitely dense core.

But Dr. Polchinski and his team pitted Einstein against quantum theory, which posited that the event horizon would become a blazing firewall of energy that would torch your body to smithereens.

Keep both theories, the physicist Stephen Hawking said in January 2014. Black holes aren’t what we thought they were. There is no event horizon, and there is no singularity. They’re just different.

According to Dr. Hawking, at the edge of a black hole, the fourth dimension known as space-time fluctuates like weather, making the crisp edge we assume impossible. Instead, Dr. Hawking’s “apparent horizon” would be like a purgatory for light rays attempting to escape a black hole, slowly dissolving and moving inward, but never being pulled into singularity. The event horizon, he says, remains the same, or even shrinks as a black hole slowly leaks energy. Suspended in the apparent zone, you would scramble and leak out into the cosmos as “Hawking radiation.”

From yesterday’s New York Times


Happy Birthday Joe Kane, aka The Phantom of The Movies®


Earlier today I wrote Joe Kane a chatty little email to wish him a Happy Birthday, and in closing I said that my “traditional celebratory post would appear on the main site later today!”

Not wanting to repeat myself, I checked to see what I had done last year. Huh. That’s funny; there was no “traditional celebratory post” in 2014. Dialing back to 2013, I was very dismayed to discover that there wasn’t a Birthday post for that year, either. Yes, I was slightly gladdened that, thank god, the June 5th 2012 post was probably the best I had ever crafted for Mr Kane (you can see it here) but I was more than a little bothered that I had blown and spaced an annual event and deadline two years in a row. I am sure Joe weathered this inadequacy on my part with bravery and stoicism. But the sad fact remains that, yeah, Simon Drax speaks (sometimes) and writes (sometimes) and makes his deadlines (almost nevertimes), Joe Kane speaks and writes and makes his deadlines everytime.

Joe Kane speaks and writes and makes his deadlines, year after year. I first discovered Joe and VideoScope in December 1994, and it wasn’t even a proper magazine then, it was a newsletter. No glossy stock, no color, and I think it was all of 15 pages. The newsletter would soon grow into a magazine, one that continually added more pages, then a glossy cover, then the thrill of a COLOR cover—my god, I still remember that benchmark—but one element remained constant, year after year: every issue came out on time.

Sure, some issues were thinner than other issues (and only a few of them at that) but VideoScope was always there, an issue for each season, year after year on this endlessly spinning mudball we call Earth. And it wasn’t just VS. Joe penned a lot of books through those seasons, too.



And more, so much more. When compared to the output of many writers (including this Doompooper), Joe Kane keeps going and going, speaking and writing and making his deadlines, despite the accumulation of seasons, and years… and birthdays.

Rock on, Joe.






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