THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES | REVIEW
by James Killough
There is nothing inherently wrong with A Better Life, the new film by writer-director Chris Weitz, also known in some industry circles as the Man Who Killed New Line Cinema, although I suspect he just delivered the coup de grace with his underperforming Golden Compass. He got right back in the Hollywood crap saddle with New Moon, which I don’t think I’ve seen, or maybe I have but I was thirty-five thousand feet over Greenland in a Xanax cloud, and my attention was derailed by why I am more attracted to Kristen Stewart than I am to Taylor Lautner.
If my shrink were playing a game of association with me and said, “Taylor Lautner,” I would instantly reply “guinea pig.” I think it’s his nose.
I know, I should have put a pic of Taylor Bloody Lautner with his shirt off here. But I can't bring myself to do it. So I'm putting in Mexican actor Gabriel Garcia Bernal and asking, What's up, man? Where have you gone? We love you.
A Better Life isn’t just about immigrants from Central America, both Salvadorans and Mexicans, it’s about Los Angeles, the real city, not the West Side/Hollywood bubble that is most often portrayed in film and on TV. Continue reading
THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES
by James Killough
Now that we have this sort of informal alliance with Tuttle’s friends over at Ohlalamag.com, as a content creation shop, PFC has to comment on the effect they are having on our readership. In a nutshell, Alek and Steph, the primary photographers and editors of that site and a few others, including Bello Mag, are some very powerful homo sapiens. A mere sentence about us in their “Linkalicious” section will send hundreds swarming to this site.
They have something like over fourteen thousand unique hits a day. That’s called pimpin’ your blogs, yo.
I was lost in the mass of male pulchritude on Ohlalamag, then I found Benjamin Godfre and I thought, "I'd hit that".... no, I mean, "I want that body." For more pix of Godfre, click on the image.
I keep thinking how disappointed Ohlalamag readers must be when they find few semi-naked male models here, but rather these dense, dark, snarky essays, peppered with lots of grotesquely large penises, still by far our biggest draw.