Morons Talking Loudly

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES

by James Killough

As a friend from out of town noted the other day after a simple lunch at Gingergrass in Silverlake, “We’ve spent hundreds of dollars dining out at expensive restaurants in LA, all of them mediocre.  The best food here is in the cheaper places.”  Which is very true.  One of the best-kept Mexi Cali open secrets in this town is the unpretentious La Esquinita on Sunset Boulevard in Echo Park.  It is not only embarrassingly cheap—to the point where you feel like you should maybe offer them a bit more for the delicious bounty they have served you—everything is made absolutely fresh right after you order it.  Regrettably, this includes the fat-bitch chips and salsa.

Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the polka-dotted toenails of the President of the United States of America, Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, the Honorable Ms. Sarah Louise Palin.

I say ‘regrettably’ not just because the chips are served in true Mexican style, or warm and coated with oil, accompanied by a choice of several homemade salsas, but because they make a very loud noise when you bite into them, at least twice the loudness of ordinary bagged chips from a store.  And this only added percussion to the braying of a moron seated at the center table of the small restaurant one lunchtime last week.

Quit While You’re Behind

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES | MAKING HATTER

by James Killough

I keep telling Baker and Tuttle that we’re moving away from this whole Marcus “Marcia” Bachmann gay thing, but then something pops up to keep it current, like my buddy Shawn Riegsecker sending me this wonderful YouTube vid yesterday:

I don't even know where Minnesota is exactly, but God I wish I'd been there for this.

If you are too lazy to watch the video (just click on the image above; I didn’t embed the video), it shows a bunch of gay neo-barbarians “glittering” Marcia’s ex-gay clinic in Minnesota.  For those who aren’t up to date on this, Marcia uses government money to try to brainwash Gheys via scalding enemas of self-hatred and magical thinking (a.k.a. religion) into denying who they really are.  What she is doing is so beyond outrageously offensive and borderline criminal that it needs to be hosed down with serious humor and satire, the only effective antidotes to the poison of evil intentions.

Marcia in Flames

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES

by James Killough

I was just thinking yesterday how PFC really ought to stay away from politics and focus more on film reviews and lifestyle.  The response to the Marcia Bachmann reward post was initially so feeble, I felt that there were others who did the political thing better than we do, so we should stick to the fluff that truly excites us.  That is, until Andy Towle posted the piece on his website.  Now we’re not only political, we’re queer activists.  For this week, at least.

Yee haw!

Gay power blogger Andy Towle between two hunnies. He's not so bad himself. Andy, you have my contact details. Let's be a gay power couple together.

Our token Str8 Eric Baker is being a trooper about it.  I can picture him explaining his hobbies over the water cooler at his office in New Jersey.  “Yeah, and I write for this radical queer blog called Pure Film Creative.  We’ve started an avalanche that is hopefully going to bury Michele Bachmann.  My wife and son are so proud of me.”

We Own You, Marcia Bachmann

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES

by James Killough

It would appear that we have called it right and that there is something not quite straight about the Marcus “Marcia” Bachmann story.  The ex-gay therapist, who would appear to be ex-gay himself, is being hounded all over the media, from Jon Stewart’s Daily Show to the Daily Beast, for his—how do we put this discreetly?—underperformance of the American performance of masculinity.  To put it indiscreetly, Marcia behaves like a screaming queen.

Sign language for "I'm a raging homo": The fabulous wrist action of Marcia Bachmann.

However much you want to scrub “barbarian” Gheys* from the face of the planet, or at least from this Godly country, and pack us back to England and France, we still own you, Marcia Bachmann; you are clearly one of us and always will be.  Your ex-gay clinics are the sort of movement that is indirectly responsible for the viral bullying gay children are suffering in school, the beatings to death of your own kind, which is the preferred way to murder us.  Never mind.  You are forgiven.  

It’s Curtains For You, Michele

BAKER STREET

by Eric J Baker

Have you heard about The Pledge?

I’m not talking about the Jack Nicholson movie from 2001 that ends with him turning into a rambling lunatic. I mean the “marriage” pledge currently making the rounds amongst GOP presidential hopefuls. This one, presented by the Christian conservative group The Family Leader, starts out rambling and lunatic… and then it gets weird. Already signed by Rick Santorum and Michele Bachmann (note to Republicans: Your party is being hijacked by bat-shit crazy mental patients), the pledge contains the usual gay bashing and hypocrisy about preserving the Constitution while simultaneously demanding that it be changed. But what I find most curious is a passage calling for women and children to be “protected” from “all forms of pornography.”

Cover of Catherine Breillat's "Pornocracy." We're not there yet, Michele.

Since current laws already protect children from pornography, one assumes this means that women won’t be allowed to participate in adult films anymore and that only gay porn will remain legal (sounds like those ultra-conservative, Christo-fascist men won’t have to change their viewing habits after all).

Marcus Bachmann Is A Homo

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES | REVIEW

by James Killough

I didn’t want to spoil my Bridesmaids experience by going to see Bad Teacher, but there is little to see in the dry summer months before the fall deluge of quality films, so you can’t be as choosy as usual.  As you may know by now, both movies are post-feminist broad comedies (again, forgive the pun) about chicks behaving like gross-infused dudes, and being utterly believable.  Both films are pleasing cultural milestones to be a part of; this is genuine equality given freely and willingly, not demanded just because it is deserved and therefore stilted, forced, maybe sententious.

A rather implausible position to sleep in, but the PR gal at Louboutin was thrilled.

Bad Teacher is the lesser film, no question.  It is School of Rock next to There’s Something About Mary, which first showed us Cameron Diaz’s extraordinary comedy chops, and which still remains quite possibly the funniest movie I’ve ever seen.

Objects In Mirror

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.

Do Republicans Dream of Electric Elephants?

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES

by James Killough

Michele Bachmann seems to have done well in the Republican debates.  It’s very early days yet, of course, but her populist extremism is something to marvel at.  Especially her extremism towards gheys and lesbotrons.

Rutger Hauer as the replicant in "Blade Runner," which was adapted from a short story called "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?"

I was raised in a Republican household.  Most of my family is still Republican, despite my mother’s conversion to the Democrats following her split with Dad.  When I say a Republican household, it doesn’t just mean that they vote straight down the line conservative.  They are REPUBLICANS, all caps.  When we lived in Rome, my father was head of Republicans Abroad.  Before he left the advertising agency he worked for, he had worked on Margaret Thatcher’s campaign, and went on to do the Republican campaign of 1979, which swept Reagan and Company into power.  Ironically, the slogan he helped develop for them was “Vote Republican For A Change,” the same concept that helped get Obama elected twenty-eight years later.

I’m Too Sexy For My Car

BAKER STREET

 by Eric J Baker

Welcome to Pure Film Creative or, as I like to think of it, Tiger Beat for intellectuals (and perverts; you know which one you are).

Regular readers of these pages will often find us opining on who is sexy (Ashton Kutcher, Duran Duran, Mary Elizabeth Winstead) and who is not (Killough’s former landlady Susan Blais, Russell Crowe, pre-Raphaelite painters). It’s easy to do when you’re talking about movie stars and fashionable pop bands, since good looks are a prerequisite for such roles in society. With political figures, the distinction is murkier. Much like the sewage most of them crawled from.

What's not sexy about an Aussie thug in a tub with a stogie, a brew and phone he's about to brain the hotel maid with?

I don’t find ugly liars attractive, but I seem to be in the minority. Last week, before the shocking truth exploded, I wrote on PFC that Anthony Weiner couldn’t have e-mailed his cock-bulge photo to a 22-year-old woman because he’s not that dumb. What I thought, but didn’t write was, “Who the fuck wants to see Anthony Weiner’s dick, anyway?”

Michele Bachmann Has A Big Dick

BAKER STREET

by Eric J Baker

Sarah Palin for President!

That’s the outlandish claim our own James Killough made on this very blog just a few days ago. As a man who is deeply concerned for America’s future and its position in the new global economy, I find his viewpoint disturbing and irresponsible at best, and I hope to restore rational thinking to these pages immediately. That’s why I’m endorsing Michele Bachmann.

This image of "Harry Potter" star Daniel Radcliff naked hanging out with a horse, which is distinct from being hung like a horse, is completely gratuitous and bears no relationship to this article.

My reasons are twofold. First, I want to top Killough when it comes to showing poor judgment. We’re competitive in that way. Second, my grandmother used to say, “Fortune favors the bold, Eric.” I wasn’t listening because her dentures kept falling out (which is upsetting and confusing to a four-year-old child), but I’ve since learned what she meant: People who take risks are successful. And what’s riskier than electing a raving lunatic madwoman president?