Thank the filth elders above that Connie Marble somehow survived her attempted execution for assholism and skulked from Baltimore to small-town Pennsylvania to live out her sunset years! That was the first thought that crossed my mind as Aunt Gladys rounded the corner of Pepperidge Farm, crap cereal, and hot dog enthusiast Principal Marcus Miller’s … Continue reading
The porch goose, or as I mistakenly called it before googling for this article, lawn duck, is the unsung hero of lawn ornament kitsch. Sure, everyone loves a pink flamingo, which proclaims its bad taste proudly with that gaudy, garish pink rammed into a browning lawn at an awkward angle. That’s not even taking into … Continue reading
Jayne Mansfield was the ultimate sex kitten-gone-berserk, the eternal starlet grasping for fame with both hands, Kenneth Anger’s cooing, squealing Hollywood Babylon made flesh. What, one might justifiably wonder, must it have been like having this outrageous creature for a mother? Considering she was only three years old when Mansfield died in her gruesome 1967 … Continue reading
After seeing Ari Aster’s newest “divisive” ride, Eddington, I returned home and put on Darryl Cooper’s three-hour marathon “Jeffrey Epstein: This was your life!” episode of Tucker Carlson. While I didn’t make it through that long haul in one night, Cooper’s deep dive into Bill Barr’s daddy and Epstein’s first employer after dropping out of … Continue reading
Does anyone love their job quite as much as Rosa, the bright-eyed and bushy-haired sex worker and l’amour de tout le monde à Paris in Paul Vecchiali’s 1986 doomed and demented romance flick, Rosa la rose, fille publique? It’s hard to imagine. She’s even working on her twentieth birthday! Currently screening at Metrograph on the … Continue reading
If I had to pick the absolute perfect song, tied up with a gun to my head, I’d be hard-pressed to come up with one better than Q Lazzarus’s “Goodbye Horses.” That sparse, sultry beat that slowly emerges as if from the clouds, combined with a strange, sci-fi keyboard do-dooing that somehow comes off as … Continue reading
I didn’t know what to write about David Lynch. Sure, I knew that I had to write something in tribute to our preeminent filth elder (tied with John Waters)—the dreams of Filthy Dreams. But…what? Scroll through this website’s archives and you’ll already find pages upon pages penned on the man, his quinoa recipe, his paintings … Continue reading
“Help! There’s a pervert after me!” A gorgeous woman (or so we assume) with petite features, framed by her pencil-thin eyebrows and gigantic 1970s bug sunglasses, dashes up to a man with mussed hair and a blue and red striped shirt, rudely interrupting his shouty breakup phone call with a soon-to-be ex: “Only losers get … Continue reading
“I’ll take Jesus for mine! I’ll take Jesus for miiiine! You can have the whole wide world, but I’ll take Jesus for mine!” Just try to dislodge this song from your overheated brain after watching The Disappearance of Aimee, an oldie but also a so-baddie-it’s-goodie Hallmark TV movie (Thank friend of Filthy Dreams Graham Russell … Continue reading
You must understand two things to appreciate the overblown, overindulgent glory of Francis Ford Coppola’s crackpot masterpiece Megalopolis. First, the most pie-in-the-sky fantastical architecture that Coppola can muster is apparently a waving, gelatinous, see-through, glimmering moving walkway as if Hudson Yards’ suicide shawarma, The Vessel, traded its now-fenced-in staircases for technology largely found between far-flung … Continue reading