I’m morbidly devoted to the works of Charles Dickens. It’s a childhood aberration. At a young age I started reading whatever books were on the family shelves and bonded with Dickens and Twain before I had a fully formed cranium, practically. From them I developed a vaguely 19th century sensibility that’s been nothing but trouble. That’s how I come to ruin me-self. (more…)

I finally got around to seeing Paranormal Activity, the low-budget ghost movie that’s making so much money. It’s spinning through the predictable cycle already charted by The Blair Witch Project ten years ago:

1) early fan buzz and glowing reviews, followed by

2) naysayers claiming the movie’s not scary, it’s stupid and boring, while critics begin to damn it with faint praise by saying the film’s “a triumph of clever marketing,” which leads to

3) a total raving backlash, with all agreed that fans of this piece of crap are idiots who don’t even know they’ve been had. And still to come,

4) a vague consensus that, in retrospect, Paranormal Activity was pretty good.

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This article was first published in The eXile on December 2, 2005.

Everything about Russia in the 90s was cool. We mean everything.

America in the 90s, on the other hand, offers plenty to hate to the spleen-endowed eXhole. Problem is, you’re probably one of the reasons why the 90s were so bad. (more…)

By now the Coen brothers are so great at filmmaking they’re actually scary. They started out twenty-five years ago with massive cinematic talent and the finest sensibilities in the modern world, and they’ve worked and worked till now they can achieve glorious screen effects with such ease, suppleness, and casual precision, it’s overwhelming if you let yourself dwell on it. But A Serious Man doesn’t let you dwell on it till after it’s over. The last shot alone is so moving, so incredible and complex in its impact, it sears itself into your brain like the twin ghost girls in The Shining, and you go home stunned.

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If you’re one of the millions of eXiled Online readers living in the Greater London area, then Christmas is coming early for you. Next Friday, October 16, there will be a special screening of the brutal BBC-produced documentary, Going Postal, based on my book of the same name. The mad and mega-talented director, Paul Tickell, will be on-hand for a Q&A after the showing–I highly recommend taking advantage of that opportunity. The screening will be held at the Frontline Club, “in the heart of London”–for details click here. [Update: you can book through the Frontline website, though there may still be tickets on the night of the showing. It's at 13 Norfolk Place, W2. Close to Paddington Station.] (more…)

This article was first published in The eXile on July 8, 2004

Much has been said over the past week about the final collapse of the Russian Left-opposition. Even a neo-con like Michael McFaul publicly lamented (through crocodile tears) the weekend split of the Russian Communist Party opposition, charging that “democracy as a result has suffered.”

But the fact is that the Russian Left died a long time ago — in the mid-1990s, when they agreed to collaborate with the powers-that-be, and to destroy anyone within their ranks who tried breaking free from their sleazy arrangement with Yeltsin and the oligarchy. The Communists didn’t want to win power, in fact they were terrified of taking power — they were safer, and better-off, as a toothless, fake opposition, which served Yeltsin well because he could whip up Return of the Red Scare fever any time he needed more IMF funds or any time Clinton’s people threatened to make a stink about the corruption and genocide that Yeltsin was responsible for.

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Capitalism: A Love Story is a fantastic slap-upside-the-head film, just what we need right now. It’s been playing a week in New York and Los Angeles, and just opened wide. The reviews are “mixed.” Critics say it’s just Michael Moore preaching to the choir again: people who love Michael Moore will go see the film, people who hate him won’t, therefore he has no persuasive effect whatsoever.

Though Dana Stevens of Slate doubts that anyone can really love Moore:

If you already dislike Michael Moore, Capitalism: A Love Story, his latest documentary/provocation/performance-piece/decoupage project isn’t likely to win you over. And if you love him without reservations, this movie has nothing to tell you that you haven’t already shouted through a bullhorn at a “Free Mumia” rally. But is there anyone who falls cleanly into that latter category of unabashed Moore love? The hulking Michigander’s 20-year career as an agitprop prankster, his stalwart refusal either to go away or to hone the blunt instrument of his demagogic style, has made Moore a problem for the left and the right. Even those who largely agree with Moore’s politics are often mortified by the delivery system: the juvenile stunts, the easy demonization of his opponents, the deliberate donning of blinders when a cogent counterargument comes along.

As usual, that leaves me out. I love Michael Moore, and I never shouted anything through a bullhorn. I should’ve, though. Maybe I’ll start. (Note to self: buy bullhorn.)
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We got this letter today from reader Jack Reynolds, who suggested this VIP health care reform since after all it’s the super-wealthy who are driving the entire townhall mob anyway:

After much soul-searching, I’ve come up with a public option that Republicans can get behind. It’s called the Platinum Public Program (PPP), and it provides 100% coverage for the top 0.5% of income earners.

Though they can already afford the best healthcare in the world, that simply isn’t good enough. For instance, take your average $2M/yr hedge fund manager. Suppose he notices a tightening of his sinuses. If he went to the ER - as he Ought to - to try to head off any detrimentally costly sick days, you’ll be surprised to find out that even though he’s one of the lynchpins of our financial system, he’d still have to languish behind homeless people, brick-layers, cooks, and crying fucking babies. And all the while, other hedge fund managers are making the money that he should be making. He’s simply not there to help make the market perfect, and the market - nee, the World! - suffers.

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Posted: September 23rd, 2009

After a brief lull, workplace shootings are back with today’s murder rampage near Fresno, California. Apparently the killer, identified as James Bascadi Badasci was recently laid off after 10 years from the company he attacked this morning—Fresno Equipment Company, a dealer for John Deere equipment. Early reports say that Badasci showed up at 9:00am with a shotgun, killed a person whom he allegedly “targeted,” then fired several more shots into the equipment before eventually turning the gun on himself. SWAT teams arrived after the damage was done–they always have an uncanny way of showing up after the killing’s over and the murderer’s already “comma-self”‘d. (more…)

If you think our culture is totally, horribly, permanently screwed up, go see The Informant! Because it’s a gallows-humor study of how/why we are totally, horribly, permanently screwed up, so it gives you an opportunity to consider the question. But if you don’t want to do that, don’t go. You’ll find it boring, or an example of pernicious “blank irony,” or something.

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Memphis—or Memfrica, as we call it—is a city where all that is fucked up about America is taken to the extreme. I recently fled this festering dung heap of a ghetto for Russia, where I’ll be getting educated and properly laid, and the more I think back to my hometown, the more I realize how truly screwed we are as a nation. I talk to people around here a lot about how ugly and sexless Stateside women are and mock the proud slave mindset of working class middle America. I tell them about how we have more prisoners than authoritarian China could ever dream off, with about a fifth of the globe”s prison population. Sometimes, I start to wonder though. Am I the crazy one because I think America sucks ass? This is home, after all. (more…)

This article was first published in the March 21, 2002 issue of The eXile.

Hot on the heels of the the Homeland’s latest impluse-buy publishing hit, 1776 Things to Love About America, the eXile decided to put in its own 911 cents. Our agents think this things going to sell and sell and sell… but that’s not why we did it. We did it because this is how we as Americans feel deep inside. Take a gander! (more…)

Extract is so bad its rottenness becomes a source of fascination, which is a good thing, because there’s nothing else to sustain your interest while the 89 minute dud drags by. It’s all Mike Judge’s fault, that much is clear. He wrote and directed it as if he’d forgotten what he does for a living. Is he suffering from amnesia? Narcolepsy? Ketamine addiction? The malaise that afflicts so many Hollywood types with so much success and so few brains they wind up in the hospital suffering from “exhaustion”?
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So I finally saw Inglourious Basterds the other night. I’ll admit, I was more than ready to avoid Tarantino’s new film, even after reading Eileen’s enticing review. The film sounded wrong on every level–what could possibly be good about another World War 2 movie that capitalizes on the Holocaust and evil Nazis? Like the War Nerd, I hate World War 2, and as for the Holocaust, to paraphrase Mark E Smith, nothing is more boring in my book.

But I was wrong–Inglourious Basterds is everything a great movie should be: fun, wild, surprising, violent, sexy, challenging. Moreover, it’s a brave movie in ways most idiots don’t get. That’s because Inglourious Basterds is, above all, a gorgeous tribute to the European Race when Europeans still had a pulse–and fangs. (more…)

When I heard Quentin Tarantino was making a Dirty Dozen-like action film set in WWII, I groaned in spirit. With all the amazing eras and dazzling historical figures and slaughterhouse horrors not yet represented in cinema, we’re going to visit the Third Reich again? Really? Tarantino-ized Nazis? As they used to say in the old WWII gas-rationing ads, Is This Trip Necessary?

But it turns out to be a pretty interesting film.
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