Space Pirates Ltd.

As some of you may remember, a few years ago I wrote an article about my feelings and musings of Rob Zombie’s House of 1000 Corpses. A good laugh was had by all, but the unforgiving hand of time juggled my words into the archives where they grew stale and stagnant like so many relatives forgotten in retirement homes. Thus ended their tale in the great cosmic scheme, waiting perhaps in the dark to spring out years from now to end my political career - or so I thought. My dastardly metaphors and ill-conceived rhetoric hidden away from the light of the main page proved to be more dangerous than I thought; a veritable piece of C-4 on my bus, waiting patiently for the speed to drop below 50 miles an hour. You can imagine my shock and surprise when, over the summer, my musings came back to haunt me, delivered on high by some terrible foe and thrown at my feet like the still beating heart of my murdered master. The face of my new enemy, or flutterbye7@msn.com as I came to know her looked directly into my eyes and, in a mocking manner rolled back her lips and murmured “Subject: great review.”

Shocked and afraid at the possibility that the crimes of my past would be brought back into the light of truth I looked on, secretly wishing for the ax to just fall and end my torment before I became subject to the tortures and sufferings of the malevolent deviant before me. Unfortunately though I could not fall softly into the sweet embrace of death, but instead had these cutting words forced upon me: “hey dude maybe you should pay attention before you go flappin’ your jaw
first of all the first scene of the movie
the doctor wolfenstien is rob zombie
it is not an old clip from an old movie
neither is the so called ‘porn’ clips which are the model masuimi max
also the red hot pussy liquors scene script that you supposively 
copied & paste directly from the script was missing the dialogue 
maybe the problem was that it wasn’t a movie that was so bad it that it was entertaining
if you don’t get obscure art maybe you should go see it
but i’d bet that you ran out to see the next one
anyhow i think your just jealous because your mind can’t come up with any out of the ordinary ideas.
rob zombie is god! or dr. satan
he has more imagination in his snot than your whole mind holds, deal with it.
just had to say it
sincerely,
janine.â€? 


Drunkenly trying to recover from the onslaught I screamed and vomited in rage and fear until my Dad told me to “shut the hell up its 3 in the goddamn morning for Christ’s sake fuck.”

Shaking in a cold sweat I retreated into bed where I plummeted into a half sleep plagued with nightmares and haunted by the stinging words of the demon named flutterbye7. When morning broke and I was able to wipe away my tears of blood, and I embraced the day with a new mission. Rather than try to ignore the scathing accusations of the spawn from MSN, I would face them headlong and venture into the lions den - I would march stalwartly ahead and fight a battle I swore I’d stay away from. I would jack into a matrix of woe and lies, though Neo made me promise not to. I would break every oath I’ve ever made, go back on every promise, and see Rob Zombie’s sequel to House of 1000 Corpses, The Devil’s Rejects. I would also make Dan come with me.

—————–

I was a prime candidate for the job. I’d never seen the original, so that big chewed up ball of gum I call my brain was still untainted. What a time of suspense and drama that must have been; waiting to see this film that the other Overminds had claimed to be the equivalent of bat’s vomit with a side of mutilated penis; the tension must have been unbearable. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I couldn’t tell you because I don’t really remember. Ethan noted that the activities for that particular night were unscheduled. “What should we do?� he said. The unforgiving smirk gave him away. He had something sinister packed away in his little Ethan cubbyhole. I should have seen it coming: he offered to cover my meal at the night’s dining facility La Tolteca, he held the door open for me and he even met my parents before we left. I was in with the wrong guy. “The Devil’s Rejects?� I exclaimed. Ethan confirmed. This movie was to chronicle people that were so bad, Satan denied them entrance to his lair of sorrow and hatred, he turned his nose up and told them there was no vacancy in his domain of agony or as the literary community likes to say, he rejected them. Set on proving my manhood, I went along with Ethan on his trail of self-destruction, despite the chronic tremors I got every time someone said the name Rob Zombie.Then we watched the Twenty. That was neat. For those of you not in the know, this is a twenty-minute period before the movie that displays the latest trends followed by cool youngsters who like to shake and shimmy to their hearts delight basking in the warmth of television and songs about women who have oversized appendages. Having been away from pop-culture for almost an entire year, that commercial bloc was a World’s Fair of entertainment. Did you know that they have music on line? With the push of a button! Also, washed up stand-up comedians make for great sit-coms. Just plug in their old jokes and build plotlines around it! I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if Carrot Top doesn’t dethrone Jerry Seinfeld as the king of comedic prime time. At least that’s what the Twenty tells me. It’s nice to have faith in something, even if it’s in the left-wing pinko liberal media.

I was actually having fun during the twenty and even the previews, but much to the chagrin of me and my partner in crime, eventually the movie started. Now I didn’t exactly “like” Rob Zombie’s first attempt at trying to slap a story together, and to put it as gently as I possibly can, I didn’t quite care for this compacted piece of degeneration.Unlike my last article I’m not even going to try to summarize the plot of this train wreck of an experience - just trust me when I say that it made about as much sense as the teletubbies and was as pleasant as seeing how many staples I could fit into the surface of my eyeball. I hate Rob Zombie. The plot was akin to a mental patient scribbling on mad-libs with his own urine. The Devil’s Rejects is one of the worst movies ever made. If Macbeth was performed solely by the two members of the Insane Clown Posse, the acting would be several times better than that seen by the hacks in Rob Zombie’s inane “film.” Rob Zombie is an idiot who’s continued existence is a testament to how little humanity has progressed since the dark ages.

Hey Rob, here’s a crazy idea - try getting an emotional reaction out of your audience other than utter fucking disgust. I mean I know you just had to tell the world the story of your crazy made up family that kills people and then gets killed and for some reason the audience is supposed to feel bad for them - God knows it’s a compelling work of drama on par with classic Greek tragedies, but I promise, you can still achieve the same effect without all the ridiculous gore. Also, fuck you. You’re a no-talented hack and it’s a crime against nature that you’re allowed to make movies when there are so many infinitely better stories out there to be told.

At some point in this movie-going experience Dan leaned over and said something to me. God knows what the poor fool was going on about, I was beyond the point of listening to reason. As he talked all I could think of was how easy it would be to kill him - just stick my fingers in his eyes and keep pushing. As much as I tried to reason against such a strange and violent action, every fiber of my being insisted I end the life of the smiling boy in front of me. It was almost as if my brain was using my own senses against me to alter my already feeble perceptions and force the commitment of an act that would surely end in my immediate incarceration or, failing that, complete insanity. Anything that guaranteed Rob Zombie’s vision ended for me forever.

So there you have it, flutterbye7@msn.com. I hope you read this. In fact, I hope that while searching for your own name, Janine Colianni, you come across this sequel article. Because of you, a large part of my soul has died inside. Rob Zombie is a hack. It is your fault that I had to waste my time, money, and dignity on subjecting myself to The Devil’s Rejects, hereby referred to as “the worst thing ever to happen in the history of man.” Only by writing this will I be able to overcome your scholarly, yet entertaining tale of why I was wrong about The Devils Rejects. I invite, nay, insist that you continue our e-correspondence so that I may test my newfound grit against you and yours. Fuck Rob Zombie.

—————–

Yes, fuck him indeed, Ethan. I want a movie that has a bearded man fucking a girl with a pistol! I want a movie that shows a clown scaring the grits out of some little four year old! I want a movie that plays Free Bird in its entirety while the corresponding scene crawls by at two frames per second! Hey, you know what folks? I FUCKING GOT IT!What a whirlwind of pleasure; the awkward pauses in dialogue; the shoddy acting; the plot twists that turned my psyche into a lock that could only be opened with a sledgehammer. Yes, this film had it all. I really want to know who gave Mr. Zombie permission to make a second movie. Who acclaimed the first one? Isn’t there some kind of rule that if your movie sucks than any sequels go straight to video? I had no idea the movie industry had become so full philanthropy. They are throwing their money away. Throwing it away to a longhaired monster who blows his nose on film and sends it to the cutting room.So what’s next Mr. Zombie? What other medium will you destroy with your greasy fingers? How about a book? Yes, a book! I’ve even got a title for you! Hey I Wrote This Book Because Some Suit Wearing Schmuck Threw A Bag of Money At Me. You could even retire right now! You’re so accomplished what with your two movies and all. I’m sure your grandkids will be proud of your movies about RAPE, MURDER AND PROSTITUTION.

If only I could attain the level of Rob Zombie’s spit. At least then I’d be part god-like.