Marsupial Werewolves ate my baby!!!!

Hey readers,

I've never experienced anything like Howling III: The Marsupials.

Werewolf movies are a really weird breed. (Yes, that pun was intended.) It seems like every director or writer has his or her own take on these things, and they can range from absolutely terrifying and brutal to utterly ridiculous and disrespectful to the entire genre.

This film is something else entirely on a whole new level of batshit insane. Seriously, see if you can make it through the trailer for this thing:

If you were able to make it all the way to the end, you'll see some amazing credentials from a few well-respected papers, the most significant being the New York Times.

According to the trailer, the Times gave it incredible accolades, saying, "If you see only one werewolf movie this year..."

These trailer editor guys are geniuses. They strategically left out the rest of the quote, which actually said:

"EXTREME WARNING: Evil terrorists have actually created a film that can make American citizens' brains explode like a cherry bomb inside a cantaloupe if viewed for more than one minute. These terrorists have snuck into random theaters, hijacked projection booths and are slowly murdering audiences across the nation. If you see only one werewolf movie this year and value your life, for the love of all that's good and holy in this world, make sure it's not Howling III: The Marsupials."

Besides, how many werewolf movies are actually produced every year?

The geniuses also pulled a quote from the New York Daily News critic as well: "My kind of horror movie."

I remember reading this one. The actual full quote was:

"My wife recently left me for another man, leaving me with a ton of unpaid bills and a lot of heartbreak. When I heard that the terrorists had made a movie that kills audiences after one minute, I purchased a reel on the black market. I followed my wife and her new man to a local movie theatre where they planned to see The Princess Bride. It wasn't hard to hold the projectionist hostage at gunpoint and switch out the reels. After one minute, life was bliss as I witnessed the happy couple's heads exploding like frogs in a microwave oven. Now that's my kind of horror movie!"

The director of this thing, Philippe Mora, achieved something that other filmmakers only dream of: a completely unwatchable mess of sheer genius and power. (It's also important to note that Mora went on to direct such other gems such as Pterodactyl Woman from Beverly Hills and Snide and Prejudice.)

The plot here is basically impossible to follow, and after watching it a few times trying to figure it out, I'm still completely clueless. (I didn't watch this a few times on purpose, actually... I just kept falling asleep over and over again and it took three times before I could make it to the end.)

It has something to do with some guy's dad finding an old film reel of a bunch of Aborigines deep in the Australian outback capturing some werewolf with a giant head and stabbing it a bunch of times with spears and stuff:

It's also about a Cold War conspiracy with the Russians... a love story between some assistant director on a werewolf movie and a shunned werewolf chick with a giant hairy pouch... a group of bloodlusting werewolf nuns on a mission... a renegade Russian ballerina... and some extinct marsupial beast dog called a Tasmanian Tiger.

It was also rated PG-13.

The main story arc centers around two star-crossed lovers. At least I'm pretty sure. Here's a photo of them having a great time at the movies:

Basically this assistant director guy that looks like a poor man's Jason Priestly is driving by in his sweet convertible and spots this busted-looking homeless chick lying on this park bench in a ripped up dress and sex hair gone horribly, horribly wrong. He does what any guy would do in this situation... run towards her like a maniac.

The guy jumps out of his car and runs toward her like one of those super fast zombies from Zach Snyder's Dawn of the Dead remake.

Anyway, this scares the hell out of her, of course, and she runs away. After this really long chase scene through the park, he corners her in some concrete stairway and tells her "not to be frightened." When she asks why the hell he's chasing her, he explains that he's an assistant director on a film called "Shapeshifters Part 8" and he wants her to star in the movie because she looks "beautiful and wild."

Man, I wish I could get cast in a movie like that.

From there, of course, they fall in love. Or at least I'm pretty sure.

(SPOILER ALERT) This crazy chick is a werewolf, of course, from some busted village in the outback called "FLOW" where all the werewolves live. In case you're mentally challenged, please take the time to go get a mirror and hold it up to your computer screen to see the genius behind the village name.

She escaped from her people earlier in the movie, but I can't remember why. Anyway, who cares, now she's a movie star.

Since she's never seen a horror movie (or any acting in general), he takes her to see one so she can learn the ropes before her first big day of shooting. Here's a link to that piece of genius.

So as their intense relationship progresses, we have this really weird out-of-control sweaty sex scene where they must have gotten it on under a sprinkler system or mist sprayer or something. Or the guy has no air conditioning and they've both drank like 12 gallons of water each. Or the director couldn't find a suitable apartment, so they just rented out the sauna at the local YMCA and turned it into a bedroom. Either way, it was some seriously sweaty sex, man.

I've definitely had sex once or twice in my day, and I know how that whole thing works. Basically, you get pretty much naked and touch your partner's body a lot. I wonder if this guy just totally skipped that whole "touching his partner's body a lot" part, because after sex when she's passed out beside him, he notices that this chick's stomach and entire crotch area are completely covered in thick fur.

I know, I know, some dudes are totally into that kind of thing, and if you are... more power to you. I however, don't swing that way, so it was pretty damn scary for me. Besides, it's not that kind of hair. Every inch of this chick's groin is covered in straight fur. Like a carpet laying company came out to her house and accidentally mistook her crotch for her living room floor.

To take it a step further, though, not only is there thick hair everywhere down there, but also a giant slit across her belly that may or may not be a kangaroo pouch.

File that figure.

We cut back and forth a lot to these two British guys who keep talking about werewolves like they're this top secret government conspiracy, and now they're in a race against the Russians to find them, or stop them, or something.

At one point the President of the United States gets involved in a cameo, and a bunch of high-ranking generals are in discussion about nuking the entire continent of Australia to finally destroy these creatures once and for all.

File that figure.

Next we cut to this really terrifying Russian ballerina lady who's face already looks like a werewolf without any makeup on.

She's twirling around on stage at a big practice session... and for some reason turns into a werewolf (with a giant head) on stage and eats some guy.

It could have been a dream, but in the next shot she's tied down to a hospital bed surrounded by cops, so I think it was real.

File that figure.

Next we see this group of mentally retarded werewolf nuns who are on this rampage across the city, killing every sumbitch that gets in their way:

I think they're on this mission to find the homeless sweaty pouch woman, but I sort of forgot about them towards the middle of the movie and I have no idea where they ended up going.

All figures are now safely filed.

With all these characters in place, the movie turns into this cluster of confusion, as the race to... well.. as the fight for... well... as the quest for... well... to be honest, I'm not sure at all what happens after this.

Somewhere in all this mess we also learn that werewolves are highly epileptic. Whenever you flash a strobe light or any kind of flashing lights in their faces, they immediately change into wolf form. Not only that, but they go absolutely apeshit in the process. This kind of thing will result in—but not limited to—fake lightning bolts, random background sparks, lame x-ray lighting effects and super-shaky handheld camera shots:

Just a tip for you... if you've got a buddy who's a werewolf, keep your distance from the television. Also, if you happen to be a scientist who's captured a werewolf, try not to take a gigantic strobe light and jam it into his face while you've got him tied up. All hell will break loose and you'll lose some valuable lab equipment. And your arms.

The most important thing, however, is that all that sweaty sex earlier in the film pays off big time when the sweaty-carpet-wolf-pouch-woman totally gets knocked up.

"SWEET!!!" I thought, as the tagline for the movie would finally come into play.

Fun fact: werewolf pregnancies only last a few days, apparently. Like any other knocked-up dog or cat, she sneaks off into this barn, makes a nice bed out of some straw and proceeds to do her childbearing thing. In this incredibly uncomfortable and completely inane scene, pouch woman gives birth to this weird giant-cockroach-sized plastic mole-alien creature.

Here's a few shots to give you an idea. I left out the horribly disturbing vagina close-up pictures and gratuitous crotch angles.

So now that they've got this weird ass alien-looking mole baby, the happy couple runs off into the outback with one of those British scientist guys and the weirdo Russian werewolf ballerina lady, who've also fallen in love. There, they build their own civilization, have a bunch of kids and live for like 15 or more years in the wild.

Seriously.

Now that we've got the whole plot nailed down, let's talk about the awesome stuff.

1. Giant werewolf heads.

The werewolves in this movie have these gigantic heads. I'm not sure what's up with that, but it looks awesome. I think the special effects people found this great time & money saving technique of breaking into the Minnesota Timberwolves' locker room and stealing their mascot's head. From there, they just spray painted it different colors and used advanced special effects techniques to make the teeth different sizes or part its hair on a different side, depending on the scene.

2. Unbelievably awesome set design & art direction.

I told you earlier about the village these werewolf guys live in called Flow. It's supposed to be this little rustic village in the outback, but really it just looks like somebody's back yard. All the werewolves are jammed into this one little area where they just sit around on the ground talking. The bald leader werewolf guy hangs out on this deerskin bed roll in the middle, and I'm pretty sure I saw a chain link fence in there somewhere.

(Is that guy behind him wearing PJ pants???)

I'm not sure where these bastards sleep, because we never see any caves or huts or cabins or lean-to shelters or anything, just that same big area where they all sit around. It almost looks like they broke into some family's backyard and kicked a 6-year-old boy out of his sandbox to get the shot.

Bonus track: Later in the film, the sweaty-hairy-pouch werewolf woman becomes this huge movie star and wins an Academy Award for one of her movies that her poor man's Jason Priestly boyfriend guy directed. You've got to check out this awards show stage. It's really wild how realistic it looks. I feel like I was actually there at the Oscars:

3. Obligatory Australian stereotype: crazy old Aborigine man.

When some of our characters head out into the outback, this crazy old man with this huge white beard keeps popping into the frame over and over again attempting to shock scare us.

Most of the time he'll sling out classic catch phrases such as, "wanna throw a shrimp on the barbie?" or "G'Day!"

I was never able to figure out what he was doing in this movie, but at one point we see him change into a werewolf and eat a bunch of hunter guys, so I guess he came in handy.

4. Inconsistent werewolf nipple placement.

When hairy/sweaty werewolf pouch woman gives birth to the giant alien cockroach, we pretty much get a full frontal naked shot. She's pretty much got regular boobs like a human woman without a pouch (not bad, by the way).

On the flip side to this, when the werewolf Russian ballerina lady transforms into a werewolf in the hospital, her hospital gown tears open and we can clearly see six nipples down her entire body, exactly like your average female hound dog. Does that strike you as being weird?

Maybe, but I give the director some credit for getting creative with it.

5. Badass skeleton attack sequence.

At one point in the film, one of the random werewolves is killed somehow. I think I may have gone into my kitchen for another glass of Jack Daniel's or zoned out thinking about Hamburger Helper, so I think I missed the part where they actually murdered him.

At any rate, all the other werewolf guys are pretty sad & shaken up, so they throw his body up on some rocks and set his ass on fire. After a while, all that's left are his smoldering bones and some fried skin:

Later on, these wacky hunter guys happen to stumble up on the charred corpse, and, of course, one of them has to get a closer look at the skeleton:

Out of nowhere, the burned remains of this giant-headed werewolf jump up and try to attack the guy in one of the most hilarious & harrowing scenes in a movie ever. Hell, it might be the defining sequence in the entire werewolf genre. Unfortunately it's body is all crispy & brittle, so the best we get is some prosthetic jaw snapping action with rotating head and really intense music.

6. The guy who's directing the movie in the movie.

The director of Shapeshifters Part 8 could be one of the most awesome meta film directors in the history of cinema. Check out his picture & that's enough said.

I'll happily leave you with that image because saying more would just ruin the mystique. Hope you guys have a great week and throw plenty of shrimp on your barbies!

-Paul Hogan

P.S. Speaking of werewolves, be sure to support the world's greatest scriptwriter writing the world's greatest script by following WEREWOLF SCRIPT on Twitter!!!!

State of the Union

Woah readers, crazy times!

I'm again postponing my heartbeat-raising review of Howling III: The Marsupials to later this week so I can give you a quick update on things around the Tirade Headquarters.

Today was a crazy day to be livin'. We got a huge president speech and another wacky product from Apple that could change us forever or something. Or the way we live somehow. Whatever.

Basically, Apple upgraded Moses' idea from back in the Bible ages. We all know that God could have easily made the iPad back then, but you've got to admit that it was way more dramatic to have those giant slabs of concrete with his message carved into 'em with lasers or welding torches. Now that I think about it, he probably used lightning bolts.

Anyway, Moses and company would have probably mistook the iPad for some kind of alien technology, and ignored God's law... and that would have led to a world a lot less awesome. Or... some of the smartest Bible-times scientists would have taken the technology and developed this whole new society of advanced gadgets.

Next time you stumble up on some phone booth that can travel through time, consider buying one of those iPads and handing it over to King David of Judah and see what happens for the hell of it. Might be a cool experiment, I don't know.

Anyway, moving on somehow, the name of this thing has set fire to the entire internet. There's about 10,000 billion blogs that you can read about the "iPad," and most of them have—for some reason—made connections between this new device and a feminine hygiene product. Some of the craziest can be found at this site, which is a woman's magazine. Feel free to head over there and discover how many thoughtful connections can be made between a cutting-edge piece of advanced technology and period blood.

Let's face the music, America: it's time to grow the hell up.

Moving on... the big State of the Union address was pretty intense tonight. We had a guy throwing down some serious claims of reform, goals and ideas of progress, sternly warning us of harsh consequences, reminding us of the failures and successes of past administration and delivering some pretty inspiring words of hope. ...And a whole giant group of guys in business suits sarcastically laughing at him.

Pretty weird time to be living in the USA, but some stuff never changes. I sure hope it all works out, though.

Editor's note: That's about as far as my State-of-the-Union commentary goes. The Tirade doesn't discriminate based on political stances or views, so if you think you can throw down some argument about the State of our Union, remember that this blog is for horror movies, horseshit pop culture commentary and other things that define me as being a gigantic geek. The Tirade is a magical entity that has its own health care system and clean energy. So unless you can somehow skew some political rhetoric into a movie about werewolves with pouches and giant heads, I'm not interested, bud.

So it's with all that stuff that I'm proud to present the first annual McClane Tirade State of the Union Address.

Second editor's note in the same blog post: It's important that while you read this, you imagine it being read by President Barak Obama. He's got the kind of voice that gets things done, and that's the kind of voice I need for MY address. So imagine he's the one reading this to you and it'll go down a lot smoother.

It's been an interesting year full of challenging topics and bone-crunching opinions on this blog. I set out to say a bunch of stuff about nothing, and I've succeeded in getting us there time and time again.

I never said it would be easy to write about giant snake movies, Friday the 13th films, Jessica Simpson's eviscerated dog and other useless pop culture events. However, I pushed through. I did what I had to do to keep things going, and for the most part, I've endured.

Sure, there have been naysayers along the way. There have been people who've not agreed with the wood background or oversized header at the top. To those people I say this:

Nobody ever got ahead by not using an oversized header or textured background. When you have a readership of more than 200 million people every week like I do, it's going to be impossible to please everyone. Sure, my header and wood background might not be the equivalent to me handing you a big bowl of orgasm ice cream with a g-spot spoon sprinkled with titties, solid-gold sprinkles and diamond sauce, but dammit, it's a start.

It's a start to our future.

Together we can continue to improve the Tirade. We can make it into something more powerful than any of us thought we could probably ever imagine. Together we can continue to write extremely obnoxious run-on sentences full of needless adjectives and juvenile adverbs that indefinitely continue to make this blog bigger than even Danny Trejo's giant chest tattoo.

But it doesn't stop there.

No, readers, it would be easy to say that writing a bunch of sentences full of nouns and verbs and stuff can change the way we perceive modern blogging about nothing. It would be easy to make false claims that I can provide coupons that you can print off to get free oil changes or breast augmentation surgeries. It would be easy to say that if you continue to read this blog, your sex powers will improve to levels that you would have never thought existed. It would be easy to say that after reading only a few posts, you'll be able to please your sweet, special lover in ways that you've only read about in Kama Sutra books and Danielle Steel novels.

But no. It takes more than that.

It takes passion and resolve to bring change. It takes a magical dagger or knife protected by a bunch of monks in some mountain stronghold.

It takes sacrifice. Not only the kind of sacrifice that calls for you to leave behind the things you love the most... but the kind where you take a giant bull and cut its head off with a chainsaw.

It takes a priest of some kind... or some guy in a robe disguised as a priest... to say a bunch of nonsense about power or strength or destiny before pulling the cord and firing up the engine on the aforementioned chainsaw.

It takes some kind of pan, or bowl or bucket or something to catch all the blood that's more than likely going to pour out of the cow's neck. It'll take a shop rag or hand towel to make sure a bunch of that blood doesn't stain or permanently damage your carpet.

It takes a man. It takes a man to stand at the door of your barn or arena or garage or whatever and collect money from the cult members that you've brainwashed with the whole bull sacrifice thing. It takes a good accountant to manage the proceeds from your cult meeting and then invest them into something lucrative. Like coal.

If we continue along this path... If we continue to strive to be more than just people who read about giant snake movies and other horror films... if we continue on a route to success and honor and steel and iron...

We can change the world.

Ladies and gentleman, God bless you all and God bless the McClane Tirade.

P.S. Remember to come back soon for the review of Howling III: The Marsupials!

LeBron James = Smoke Monster

I can't believe I'm about to type this, but...

Hey NBA fans, welcome to the Tirade.

Yeah, this blog doesn't shed much light on the sports world. Other than ripping on some coach or studying the after-effects of long-term, intense skeet shooting, I don't delve into the wide world of sporting activities.

It's not that I'm some kind of pussy, mind you—I just find bad horror movies, giant snakes, hilarious news stories and idiot celebrities way more fun to write about. I'm what they call your "casual sports fan." It's a lot safer this way. I basically just enjoy the hell out of sports, don't obsess over anything and always have a great time whether I win or lose. Sounds cliché, I know, but so was the act of boning your mom last night, so back off.

Anyway, my friend Michael Tribble sent a link my way today to a Bill Simmons column. I've read a bunch of his stuff in the past and picked up his podcast a few times (namely when he has Chuck Klosterman pay him a visit), and the guy never ceases to entertain.

This is an amazing profile piece on LeBron James that I wanted to share, because it's just so fun and so well written. I don't follow the NBA at all, especially the Cavs, but Simmons' style made me a believer.

Go check out the goods and let the charisma soak you like a tidal wave of delicious Pabst Blue Ribbon.

- Super-coordinated, mutant 4-year-old dealing with a severe sugar rush

P.S. Yes, I my review for The Howling III: The Marsupials is still on the way, I haven't forgotten about you and your thirsting addiction for more lame horror. Sit tight.

It Came from URANUS!!!!

Hey guys,

The other night I was lucky enough to catch a viewing of "Howling III: The Marsupials."

Let me tell you right now... that movie is unbelievable. I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything like it. In terms of hilarity for being awful, it's a 9 out of 10. I really want to come back to this and write a longer post about my experience with the film, but for now I'm going to leave you with this amazing teaser trailer to get you pumped up for my full review that's coming soon.

Towards the beginning of the film, our hero takes his woman to the theater to experience her very first horror movie. This is the film they watch:

Take that to your kitchen, put it in a pot and boil it up for supper. That's only a taste of the brilliance of this piece of art.

Full review is comin' on down the line.

Happy Friday!

-M

Kiffin Commentary

Hey blog team action force!!

Man, crazy day today, huh? I don't know where you are in the world right now, but there's some crazy things happening in Knoxville. (Seriously crazy.)

Surprise! University of Tennessee head football coach Lane Kiffin bails on Knoxville, takes a job across the country and solidifies himself as being one of the biggest dicks of the entire sports industry. To me, this is awesome. I have no idea if you know this, but I am not a fan of these UT guys.

I've always seen these UT people as pure comedy. It's always so interesting how sports—college football in particular—can really turn into a fantastic soap opera. The hilarity of this stuff never fails to entertain... exactly the way Young and the Restless entertains the housewives and super hot chicks of America. (Heads up, Lisa.)

Anyway, I've never loved this Kiffin guy, and that's no jive. From the first few games (and specifically press conferences) I thought this guy was Superintendent of the Shitface Schoolboard. The trash talking, piss-poor etiquette and rude cadence always offended me, mostly because Knoxville is where I live. I'm not even a Vols fan, but when a guy gets on National Television representing my city and simultaneously gets mentioned in Lil Wayne tracks for being a dick... I kinda feel like Knoxville is getting the shaft.

Anyway, today he made the announcement that he's bolting out of here, and apparently Knoxville has gone apeshit. Check out this fantastic picture of the acclaimed and infamous rock on UT's campus, for example.

Somebody blogged earlier about the crazy riots on campus and how the cops had to whip out the tear gas amongst flaming mattresses and Molotov cocktails, and that's something straight out of a Children of Men film. (Check these videos for a quick reference of the size of this thing:)

Facebook and Twitter have been in-sane tonight. Some of the best commentary of the night has come from random posts. Here's a few terrific ones for your viewing pleasure, copied and pasted in their glory:

_____________________________________

Pat Forde of ESPN on why USC chose Kiffin: "After DeRio, Jeff Fisher, Sarkisian, etc. turned the job down, they're pretty much down to the D-List of coaching options."

Confirmed by several UT players: as Lane was making the announcement to the team, they could hear Ed making calls in the back room to UT recruits telling them they have scholarships at USC. I would rather lose every game then have a snake like Kiffin coaching our boys.

heard they just tear gassed the students waiting on that POS Kiffin to leave the football complex and that Will Muschamp is choice #1 as next coach. Rumor he will accept. We could salvage this thing if we can keep Thompson, Kippy, and take Garner grom UGay. Oh yeah I hope Orgeron has a stroke from Red Bull. He text our early enrollees about 7pm tonight telling them to not go to class tomorrow & to go to USC

hopes the reporters told Lane just where they would like to shove their cameras..... 30 seconds of video my a**....... I say make the pirate a vol!!! Bring in Leach!

Lane Kiffin lives on Tooles Bend Road? Appropriate. Okay, I'm done. Goodnight!

My favorite quote from a pissed off Vol fan on Lane Kiffin's fan page: "May the fleas of a 1000 camels infest your underpants."

I hope Tiger banged Layla

Oh yes it is good to be a fan of a team that is not the Tennessee Volunteers. GO BLUE (MTSU and Michigan)

Maybe Tyler Smith & Nukeese Richardson will help Lane get out of town safely.

ESPN just showed his 1 min press conference. He said that he is leaving 14 months after his arrival and leaving a far better team than was here when he arrived. Bullshit Lane!

Vol fans...boy did we get screwed, hahahaha.

Thanks for pooping on my birthday Lane Kiffin

Gotta wonder about Kiffin's backup plan for all this mess. I hope he has like a super awesome A-Team style van that's like bulletproof with iron plates and bars for driving anywhere in the region. Or maybe like a robot clone that can go to the grocery store and take axe to the neck with no harm.

What a coincidence! WBIR interrupted The Biggest Loser for Kiffin's press conference! The two kinda go together!

Aw, shucks! I was looking forward to another lackluster season and a porous defense and dozens of secondary recruiting violations. Dangit.

Dear Lane Kiffin, We hate you. Love, The Vols.

this Kiffin news annoys me...maybe will be lucky enough to see his short career end at USC, or catch a stray bullet from a gang war, either one is fine with me...Traitor!..any ideas on a potential replacement?

And the Doucher of the year goes to... LANE KIFFIN!!! This message was brought to you by Dish Network

_____________________________________

Now THAT'S entertainment!

Anyway, I'm really glad that a guy who's been a poor representative of my city is finally setting sail. Later Kiff man, don't let the door hit ya on the way out, sucka.

Happy Wednesday fools!

-M

New Slamdot Site is Live!

Hey guys,

Quick post this morning to let you know that the all-new Slamdot website is finally live! Click on the image below or right here to view the new site.

This represents a lot of work on everybody's part, from the code to the support to the customer service to the design, and we're extremely proud to have it up as a true representation of our company. Big props to owner and programmer Sean Christman for being the Swiss Army Knife of the web development world!

Have a great week, and if you're in the neighborhood for some affordable hosting or site design, drop me a line and we can make it happen!

Cheeeeeers!

-M

Happiness.

Hey guys,

I've been pretty happy lately, but not as happy as this guy pictured below.

Yeah, yeah, I know, The Tirade doesn't usually stoop to the levels of posting stupid pictures, but I'm in a good mood today and this shot makes me smile.

Happy Saturday!!

-M

P.S. Plus, it's way cool that the crazy old guy with the huge cactus pecker up there has a color scheme that goes perfectly with the new background on the blog. This is like total design harmony here. It's kind of awesome how life works out sometimes.

G-Spot anyone?

Hey sex fans,

The guys at CNN never cease to impress me. After running Jessica Simpson wild in 2009, they've whipped out an amazing new story to kick off 2010 with a giant-sized orgasm.

Does the G-Spot really exist?

Scientists are hilarious, man. From human genitalia to baby galaxies, it seems like they just never run out of crap to study. Face it, there's a crack team of scientists out there right now diligently studying gobs of decomposed human bones that some meteorite-stricken radioactive shark shit out of its system somewhere in Iceland. And that's just the beginning.

Anyway, these guys are research machines, and CNN loves to tack stories like these onto their daily roster of carnage. It's actually GREAT to see a headline about female orgasms and magic fairy tale erogenous zones next to the stories about murderers and terrorists. I have absolutely no complaints about that choice of editorial filler.

So does this wondrous place of ecstasy really exist somewhere in there? Every single lady that I've known (biblically speaking) in my life (two), have all had completely different thoughts on the subject. It's kind of cool that CNN definitely and objectively smashes head on into this subject matter like an out-of-control battering ram.

I was kind of sad that CNN didn't give some props to the G-Spot's very own website, which is hilariously informative. However, if you're reading this at work... beware of treading into Adult Content Town. There could be some medical illustrations of vaginas that'll induce a variety of uncomfortable and/or awesome reactions from your boss.

The Tirade doesn't discriminate based on G-Spots, so if you've never experienced the mind-shattering, tidal-wave powers of this legendary catapult of euphoria, don't worry. Never give up hope of finding the legend. Dude, if Indiana Jones can find some busted ark full of demons and scrolls or some temple of doom, you can totally get your treasure on.

But guys: don't be worried if your special lady doesn't have one of these units. You might think it's because she's mentally retarded, a recent sex-change patient, some robot, an alien or a weird scientific experiment gone wrong... but God made us all differently for some reason. This totally applies to G-spots too.

Some wise old man once told me that the journey was actually the best part of the quest or something like that. I think he probably meant to say that all the fun is in the search. Or he was just wondering the halls of the nursing home chanting out random stuff about dairy farming and everything that's involved in owning a junk yard business.

(Yeah, you just think I'm kidding.)

Take it from him and me... the G-Spot is out there somewhere.

Go get it in 2010.

-M

Dodgem Logic!

Hey late 80's and early 90's comic book fans,

It's really a shame that the more commercial crap is made of Alan Moore's work, the more people dislike the man. Hollywood folks paint this horrible picture of the guy... the disgruntled author who refuses to take part in any film ventures made of his work (even going so far as rejecting massive royalties). He's supposedly this bitter recluse who hates people and disapproves of any expansion of his ideas. He gets crap slung at him from all directions these days.

Yeah, well... I believe in Alan Moore. His work just isn't cut out for the movies. For proof of this, just look at the theatrical track record. I'm not listing those crap movies out here, hit up an IMDB search and knock yourself out.

I'll always side with the guy when it comes to Hollywood snatching up his work. I can't understand who wouldn't side with my opinion when I say this, but if I had worked for years and years on projects that defined me as a 20th Century icon... only to have some company and dumbass director (yeah, YOU Norrington) take my work, butcher it to pieces, change it all around, disrespect it, compact it into a quarter of its running time and show it to triple its original audience in a completely different medium... I'd be mad as almighty hell too. It's like taking a damn Roy Liechtenstein painting and turning it into a wacky madcap Saturday morning cartoon.

The further and further I get away from that Watchmen movie, the more I hate the fact it was even made. I believe it was Terry Gilliam who once said (after merely thinking of directing a Watchmen film) that Alan Moore's work was truly made for no other medium than comic books. A true Watchmen film could never work (and a true Watchmen fan would agree with me!!). The structure, the storytelling, everything... it's made as an original art form.

I guess that Snyder guy wanted to prove him wrong by making a carbon-copy of the original book... but does that movie even really work as a movie?? I guess a lot of people love it, but to me it just feels like some Bizarro World version of the real story. Poor-man's Watchmen in my opinion. Don't like it, and I'm kinda mad at myself for buying the damn thing on DVD. I would send Moore my refund money, but he probably wouldn't take it either.

Since fighting his way through the shitstorm of having his own babies' arms ripped off and maliciously thrown at him, the guy just keeps on getting more and more fascinating through the years. Like him or not, the guy's ideas have always been 10 miles ahead of the curve. Sure, they're mostly weird as hell, but you can't argue with me that they've been original.

Now the guy's got this new project brewing in his creepy Northampton kettle, and it's an extremely interesting independent magazine. Read all about it here.

WIRED does a wonderful job, as usual, of covering this new milestone through a fantastic interview with the man. I just wanted to share the link and sling a little Tirade opinion in the mix.

Also I'd urge you to enjoy this clip... definitely one of the most in-sane things I've ever seen in my entire life on this planet:

I might just go back and read my copy of Saga of the Swamp Thing #21: "The Anatomy Lesson" tonight. With that piece, Moore came on board the title and took a busted, hilariously bad comic and turned it into a freight train of incredible literature.

He's done it again and again and again... so how's his newest project going to fare?

YOU, the reader, decide.

-Alec Holland

2009 Favorites: ADDENDUM!

Hey guys,

Man, this is a really lame thing to do at the last minute (and past deadline), but I've got to make a revision to my "Favorite Films" list of the decade.

Before some crazy squad of New Year's Police comes smashing through my windows and doors because I've broken the "2009 is over" law... I'm taking a stand on this one.

(500) Days of Summer.

I have no damn clue how this one escaped me in 2009. I'm throwing my opinion out at you like a deadly razor-blade frisbee... this movie is one of my favorites of the decade.

Here's how this is going to break down:

1. I'm booting Cameron Crowe off the list at #25. Elizabethtown served its purpose, did its time, and now it's free to go.

2. I'm moving everything up a notch.

3. I'm inserting (500) Days of Summer in spot #9.

"But Matt," you're probably asking, "Really? You're going to put this movie in front of all the other awesome films on your list and you've just now seen it?"

You might also ask, "Also, what will you be having for breakfast in the morning?"

Never fear readers, I've got the answers you've been looking for. First of all, I'll more than likely make myself a delicious bacon, egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast. I like the egg over-medium, so that after your first bite, that delicious yellow yolk erupts all over your face and hands and totally makes you feel like you're four years old again. If you're an egg fan. Or a fan of feeling like a messy kid again. If not, then go to hell.

Anyway, your next answer: because it was incredible.

I guess it's weird that I could talk more about an egg sandwich than a movie that just wrecked my whole life, but it's one of those "left me speechless" scenarios.

You know the ones, right? You watch some awesome speech, you meet someone who rips your perceptions to pieces, you listen to The Flaming Lips for the first time... etc. etc. That kind of thing happened with this movie, and I'll more than likely walk back into my living room in a second and watch the damn thing again.

That YouTube trailer up there? That's the cute, cuddly version of the film. Those marketing guys are kinda genius on that one. You think you're walking into a super trendy film about two people falling helplessly in love, but like the narrator clearly states: This is NOT a love story. And it's sure as hell not. This trailer is ten times more cool and masterfully edited:

I can draw comparisons to my life for miles and miles and miles... talk about how much I love The Smiths and what an integral part they play in the film... talk about how beautifully shot it is... talk about the unbelievably fun and interesting art that sneaks its way into frame after frame... discuss the pitch-perfect wardrobe and amazing style & look of every character... talk about how wonderfully three-dimensional every character is and how much I was invested in their emotions and accomplishments... or just say how badass Chloe Moretz is in general... but I totally digress.

This movie is my bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. Except this time machine doesn't go back to kindergarten, it goes back to most of my adult life.

I confidently put this film in my Top 10 of the decade without a hint of hesitation.

Now excuse me while I go take another bite.

-M

P.S. Chloe Moretz, you ask? Mark my words... you're going to fall in love with this chick this April when a little film called, "Kick-Ass" drops a nuclear bomb of awesome on your brains.

P.P.S. One of my most favorite sequences of the entire decade: