New Horror Film from Eli Roth Skewers Political Correctness and Multiculturalism


Eli Roth’s fourth film, The Green Inferno (following Cabin Fever, Hostel and Hostel: Part 2) is an homage to classic (well, classic to some) Italian cannibal films such as Man from Deep River, Jungle Holocaust, Eaten Alive, Mountain of the Cannibal God, Emmanuelle and the Last Cannibals, Cannibal Ferox and, especially Cannibal Holocaust; yes I’ve seen them all. In the case of the last one, the title for Roth’s film was inspired directly by it, which I will get to momentarily. In addition to being an homage, Roth’s film is also a satire, albeit a fairly mean spirited one, of leftist, liberal and progressive college activists.

For those unaware the cannibal film sub-genre was spawned in Italy in the early 1970s and exhausted itself out in the early 80s. The crowning achievement of the genre is the aforementioned Cannibal Holocaust, whose one distinguishing feature from other cannibal films is that it is a precursor to The Blair Witch Project and other “found footage” horror films.  In fact the documentary being watched within Cannibal Holocaust is called The Green Inferno and follows a team of documentary filmmakers into the jungles of the amazon.  The team proceed to torture the natives, who, in turn torture them back.  All of this is caught on camera and, when shown to the TV crew and, of course the audience, the question is raised: “who are the real cannibals?”  Of course, in Roth’s film, the answer is simple; “The cannibals are the cannibals.”  This has liberals PISSED.

Regerro Deodato’s film along with the other cannibal films is full of violence of every imaginable sort that could not be shown in your average R rated horror film – from the standard decapitations and amputations to more extreme fare like castrations, rape and real animal killing.

It’s 2015 and Roth’s film has no animal killing, but it has plenty of gore. It also includes what might be the final frontier of horror film depravity; female genital mutilation. To be fair America hater Lars Von Trier included this in his film Antichrist from 2009, but Roth is the first to put in a straight ahead horror film.

The basic plot of the movie is that Justine (played by Roth’s super hot wife and Chilean model Lorenzo Izzo) decides to join a group of activists after witnessing a lecture on female genital mutilation in her world studies class and getting manipulated by the sleazy leftist activist Alejandro (Ariel Levy). Their activist trip involves going into a Peruvian jungle and using cell phones and social media to shame land contractors, who employed the help of a gun toting militia, out of bulldozing land of an indigenous Peruvian tribe.  When Justine gets a gun pointed at her head and activist leader Alejandro is ready to sacrifice her for his cause, she starts to get wind of the lengths leftists will go to get their point across.

However, the shaming attempt allegedly works and, after their so called victory – which is revealed to just be a p.r. stunt – the activists crash land into the Peruvian jungle and are tortured and eaten alive by the very people they allegedly came to protect.

Enter liberal outrage.

Roth immediately establishes his disdain for leftist college activist types in the film’s opening scene when the main character is woken up to hunger strikers protesting to increase the wages of janitors. The sentiment is continued further when Kira (singer Sky Ferriera), best friend of Justine exclaims, “activism is so fucking gay”, while also throwing in some remarks about the white Jewish elitist guilt to the horrified stare of a passerby. She turns, pulls out her Star of David pendant and says, “Uh, I can say that!” I laughed wholeheartedly at that. Is Eli Roth really taking a swipe at liberal Jews? I can only hope!

In fact, I’ll go so far as to draw a direct parallel with the Israeli/Palestinian conflict; young, naive activists support the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, thinking they’re helping the “poor Palestinians” in spite the fact that Israel was always just protecting itself against rockets fired by a group of people who they’ve conceded land to in every war they’ve won. Naive activists fail to realize that the people they allegedly want to protect are governed by the savages known as Hamas, who couldn’t care less about their cause and are known for stringing gay people on ropes and killing women when they think they’ve committed adultery.  Let us not forget that they use women and children as shields just to make Israel look bad in case they retaliate against rocket fire.

I can only speculate if Roth had any message in mind beyond making fun of social justice warriors. However, it would be nice if the same guy who played the Bear Jew in Quinten Tarantino’s otherwise preposterous Inglorious Basterds, beating the brains out of Nazi soldier with a baseball bat, might have a cautionary, pro-West message in mind. Maybe he was thinking of naive journalists who go to Muslim countries only to be kidnapped and beheaded. Whatever parallel can be drawn, it’s clear the movie doesn’t seem to have a pro-multicultural message. Hell, the protagonist is saved by the very “imperialist” militia she had gone to protest against.

Anyway, back in the jungle the natives are portrayed as primitive savages and waste no time in cooking up and eating the fattest member of their crew, Jonah (Aaron Burns) (did Eli Roth name this character Jonah because he’s fat?) People who hate the film’s message will try and say that the film lacks suspense, pacing, atmosphere, and likeable characters. They’re just looking for excuses to hate it. The Peruvian jungle locale looks gorgeous and we immediately sympathize with Justine the second she finds out that she was a pawn in the “activist” Alejandro’s twisted plot.

On top of that the movie has lots of excitement and gore; branch going through someone’s face, head getting chopped off by a propeller, live body flaying, someone being eaten alive by ants, freshly skinned heads on poles and a throat being slit. The mood is lightened slightly with some juvenile humor in the form of some explosive diarrhea and a “Scooby Doo” style escape plot involving putting marijuana in the cannibals’ food.

When leftists actually admit that the movie is good, as in suspenseful and well made, they complain about how it’s xenophobic and that attacks on social justice warriors are shallow at best. But that’s the point! Social justice warriors ARE shallow, taking on socio-political causes with almost no knowledge of the history behind any of them.

Some critics feel the film’s conclusion makes no sense; that Justine, the only survivor, goes on to lie about her experience with the cannibals to her father, a member of the U.N. I don’t feel this is the case at all.  I feel this is exactly what people on the left do; make excuses, rationalize or flat out lie about how certain cultures just aren’t compatible with Western values.  Eli Roth isn’t afraid to point this out.

Always Judge a Book by Its Cover


I’m a degenerate who drinks a lot and sleeps with loose – err, I mean empowered – women.  I’m probably not the first person you would expect to be reading books by Mark Levin.  But, there I am, blasting Blue Oyster Cult or the Dictators while reading Mr. Levin’s treatise on how to save the United States for future generations.

On Halloween, I brought back a cute punk rock girl to my place and, the next morning, she was looking through my piles of books, CDs, comics and horror magazines and, under Jim Goad’s The Redneck Manifesto was Liberty and Tyranny by Mark Levin.  Although she more than likely would not have known what it is, I said, “don’t look at that.  It’s boring political crap” and quickly put it under more books.

Let me start over before I forget what I’m supposed to be writing about.

I’m a fan of Taki’s Magazine, the online conservative blog started by paleoconservative journalist Taki Theodoracopulos and criticized for its completely un-PC, tell it like it is, approach.  The blog has come under fire for articles such as John Derbyshire’s The Talk: Nonblack Version, which led to his dismissal from the writing staff of the National Review, Theodoracopulos’ own support for the Greek far-right Nationalist group Golden Dawn and the magazine’s employment of David Cole, who was kicked out of other conservative circles for being a Holocaust revisionist in spite being both Jewish and an ardent Israel supporter.

Yet to call it racist on that alone is the type of foolishness reserved by the leftist media.

Arrghh, I’m rambling…

Yesterday I was at the West Bloomfield public library and this guy was trying to get me to sign a petition to put on the ballot to vote on raising corporate taxes to pay for roads.  Aside from firing off pro-Sanders propaganda at a furious rate without letting me get a word in edgewise, he said that the reason places like Detroit, Baltimore and the south side of Chicago are such shitholes is because of corporations, and not at all because of the people who live there and how the crime rate and state of disrepair are not going to change by liberal policies which encourage the crime rate and state of disrepair.

A few weeks ago I saw this new space rock/kraut rock band Ruckzuck and, after their set, their adorable singer/keyboardist, who I will refer to as either F Kelly or Faith K, made an anti-Trump joke about his alleged racism, while also remarking that she was initially scared to drive into Detroit.  What exactly was she scared of?  Could it be that she was scared of the Detroit Institute of Science, of Wayne State University or of Detroit Brewing Co.?  Of course not, this allegedly anti-racist, Trump hater was afraid of the crime, or more specifically she was afraid of blacks.

She was afraid of muggings or shootings that are perpetrated by a significant segment of a minority group, who, for some reason, populate the worst parts of cities.  It’s not the blacks she’s afraid of, of course; it’s just the crime.  White people commit crimes too, ya know… and, they TOO are intimidating when walking around in baggy, ghetto attire.  Except that they’re not.

When I was in Baltimore, MD, out to see Maryland Deathfest, I walked three miles from the venue to the dumpy punk house we were staying at.  The majority of the population is black.  One woman asked for a light to which I said I didn’t have one because I don’t smoke.  She said, “that’s okay, sweety.”  Another person asked if I’m “looking for anything.”  My answer was, “no, man, I’m good, thanks.”  Did I cross the street to avoid the locals a couple times?  Yep.

One of my friends recalled a story where an allegedly homeless man asked someone he knew for some change.  The only catch was that he had to do it “around the corner.”  He shot the guy he was asking change from in the kneecaps.  Another friend of mine, a Chaldean named Matt, was robbed at gunpoint at the Metro PCS store he works at and the man fired a shot into a wall, a warning shot.  This same man was also part of a group of people who went on a murder spree in other, nicer parts of the Metro Detroit area.

I live in an upper middle class neighborhood primarily dominated by rich, snobby, stuck up Jews and overly macho, greasy haired middle easterners called Chaldeans, who tailgate you if you’re driving five over the speed limit and turn poker games into bullying contests.  If I see a black person in this area, especially wearing nice, upper middle class, white people clothes, I’m not scared one bit.  Although the move to put section 8 housing in our area might change the dynamic of this 1950s style, Leave It to Beaver neighborhood.  Jury’s out on that one.

People may defy your expectations – after all, I’m the punk rock Mark Levin reader – but typically they do not.  The girl with the dreadlocks and tattoos is going to be a sex-positive feminist who thinks that if you want a relationship and don’t approve of her jumping from cock to cock, you’re supporting the patriarchy.  She probably considers herself polyamorous, bisexual and gender neutral, rather than simply mentally ill.  The Indian customers at your store will want to haggle with you.  The black people you serve at the restaurant won’t tip you well.  The super hot blonde you’re taking out on a date won’t know a single nominee for the Republican party.  The Arab who lives in Dearborn more than likely hates Jews.  And the Asians, aforementioned Indians and Jews have really good careers in technology, law or medical field and many are part of that envied 1%.

Why can’t people say this stuff?  I dunno.  Who cares.  Arm yourself with knowledge (and an automatic) and you’ll be a lot safer when you go out in the world.  Also don’t be a “cool” white person by deliberately living in the shittiest part of town and realize that the reason burbs, such as Detroit-bordering Ferndale with liberal arty hipsters are safe is because cops are profiling people who look “suspicious.”  Also, if a homeless man asks me to get him a 40 at the liquor store, I typically do because I’m a nice guy.

Let’s Have a Shout Out to the TRUE King of Rock ‘n’ Roll


Note: This was originally posted at The New Paine, so it would be fairly accurate to assume that the readers of that blog are not too familiar with the “guerrilla history” of rock ‘n’ roll.  I’m sure the readers of THIS blog have more than a cursory knowledge of the topic.

One of the dorkiest and most annoying things that right wingers try to do is rationalize how it’s possible to hold conservative views and still be a rock ‘n’ roller.  They write stupid articles like this National Review piece about progressive rock, this list of the top 50 conservative rock songs or this article about Republican Grateful Dead fans.  What a dumb way to tell people who don’t give a shit that you’re “one of them.”  It’s even dumber when some Republican brags about how he’s a Rage Against the Machine fan; who cares?  Rage Against the Machine sucks ding dongs.

I’m assuming the majority of the readers of this blog are not super knowledgeable about the secret, guerrilla history of rock ‘n’ roll.  When asked who the king of rock ‘n’ roll is, most people will probably say Elvis, the Beatles or the Rolling Stones and, while those are all great performers/bands, they really don’t hold a candle to the one and only Ian Fraser “Lemmy” Kilmister, the unstoppable, long haired, bearded, side burn sporting, leather and bullet belt wearing, Rickenbacker slingin’, mole faced, hoarse voiced singer/bassist for Motorhead.  Like the Ramones and AC/DC, Motorhead were known for their consistently pleasing, hooky and LOUD brand of rock ‘n’ roll.  Some call it metal, some call it rock, some call it punk, but to Lemmy this meant NOTHING.

The history of rock ‘n’ roll can parallel the history of the world – after society was born, it broke apart into various factions, some warring, some united, and driven by copious amounts of revolutions, counter-revolutions and counter-counter-revolutions.  Punk against prog, metal against punk, hardcore against new wave, grunge against glam metal, rock against disco and so on and so forth…

Lemmy was the grand ambassador.  In the late 1970s, when punk rock came to dominate the underground London rock clubs and give the middle finger to the older generation of aging hippies cum prog musicians who packed arenas with drugged out, long haired nerds and played endless songs utilizing mountains of expensive musical equipment, there was Lemmy who paid allegiance to no scene.  One day he would pal around with big time, multi-platinum selling theatrical art rockers Queen and big time metal act Black Sabbath and the next day he’d hang out with Joey Ramone or attempt to teach the bass to Sid Vicious, who never got it down, but joined the Sex Pistols anyway.

As the years and trends passed, Lemmy became friends with virtually anyone who wasn’t a dick; a google search would produce a bunch of photos of Lemmy hanging with, well, anyone!  Motorhead superseded all of the trends – punk rock, the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, thrash metal, death metal, black metal, glam metal, grunge, garage rock and continued to release album after album after album of brilliant satisfying rock ‘n’ roll until his passing a few days ago on December 28th at the age of 70.  Lemmy’s death came as a shock only because, in the world of rock ‘n’ roll, Lemmy seemed virtually unkillable.  Other musicians toned down their partying, started families and bought expensive pieces of real-estate to make sure they would have a nice pot of gold once they finally hung up the guitar.  Or, as the Rolling Stones, AC/DC, ZZ Top and Aerosmith have done, would pat themselves on the back for how long they’ve been going at it, yet only release an album or tour once every decade.  What DO these guys do in their spare time?  Oh, yeah, tend to their real-estate careers or play golf.

Not Lemmy; he lived, ate, drank and breathed rock ‘n’ roll from his teen years to his death.

Born on Christmas of 1945 in Stoke-on-Trent and raised in North Whales, Lemmy was abandoned by his preacher father after only three months, which might help explain his blatant disdain towards the Christian religion and his developing atheistic viewpoint.

At age 14, he saw some rock ‘n’ roll people on TV and all of the girls screaming at their feet and decided that was the career for him; as Lemmy once quipped, that, for some reason or another, any time a guy a picks up a guitar, he’ll have women swarming around him.  Done deal.  A few years later, Lemmy was slingin’ axe for local groups the Motown Sect (“I hate that soul shit”) and the Rockin’ Vickers, the latter who recorded a solid cover of “Dandy” by the Kinks.

But, what’s really fascinating is that Lemmy witnessed the Beatles at the Cavern club in 1962.  Anyone who thinks of John Lennon as a long haired, peacenik married to Yoko Ono and singing the 1970s version of “we are the world” called “Imagine” probably isn’t aware that, in the early 60s, Lennon was a cussing, fighting, fried chicken chomping, teddy boy, who wouldn’t hesitate to drop his guitar, walk off the stage and kick the crap out of some heckler.  The big misconception is that the Beatles were the “nice” band the Stones were the brooding, bluesy tough guys.  The Stones were upper middle class blokes who traded blues and early rock ‘n’ roll 45s and posed like 60 year old blues men – essentially they were the “wiggas” of their time.  Some might even call what they did “cultural appropriation.”

Anyhow, by 1967, the rock world changed; hair got longer, drugs got trippier and psychedelia was the name of the game.  The class of ’67 includes the Doors, Hendrix, Pink Floyd and Joplin.  Lemmy was a small player, but a charming fellow on the London underground scene, roadie-ing for and dealing acid to Jimi Hendrix, who Lemmy still thinks is THE best guitarist of all time (maybe he’s right?).  In 1968 Lemmy played guitar, sang and wrote all of the songs for Sam Gopal, a tabla percussionist from Malaysia, on his extremely druggy, hippie-delic album Escalator before joining the mediocre Opal Butterfly.

His big break, however, came in 1971 when, at age 25, he joined the space rock band Hawkwind; I consider them to be the musical equivalent of Dr. Who before Dr. Who became popular in North America.  In other words, Hawkwind is an institution in its own right, a cult phenomenon that began in 1969 and is going to this day, releasing albums and creating a science fiction world through their music, lyrics, art work and expansive stage show.

Lemmy replaced his guitar with a bass, to which he applied his aggressive playing style and helped give Hawkwind a major kick in the ass, helping to create the driving “space rock” sound.  According to Lemmy, Hawkwind was NOT about peace and love, but about attacking you with lights, lasers, unfathomably loud sounds and a big breasted, nude dancer named Stacia.

Unfortunately Lemmy’s tenure in Hawkwind lasted less than four years.  After singing lead on the group’s only hit “Silver Machine” and playing on four albums – Doremi Fasol Latido, Space Ritual, Hall of the Mountain Grill and Warrior on the Edge of Time – he was unceremoniously dismissed from the band.  Accounts differ as to what actually happened, but two things remain clear; Hawkwind were like a nation in that they had so many members that a civil war of differing interest was inevitable and that, with Lemmy’s departure, Hawkwind would never be the same again.

Lemmy once humorously said that he had been fired from so many bands, he started one of his own to prevent that from happening again.  In 1975, at age 29, that’s exactly what he did.  Starting in the bohemian Ladbroke Grove district of London – an area where naive hippie types drop acid, rage against “the man” and worship Socialist and Anarchist losers – Lemmy formed Bastard.  According to manager Doug Smith, a band with a name like that was never going to get anywhere; of course these days people wouldn’t bat an eye lash with the existence of bands like Anal Cunt and Nunslaughter, but 1975 was a different time!  So Lemmy changed it to the slightly less offensive Motorhead, named after the final song he wrote for Hawkwind and based on his love for amphetamines.
I’m not going to go into the extensive history of Motorhead since that would be tedious and has been covered elsewhere.  I’m here to discuss what their music means to me and why I believe Lemmy is the true king of rock ‘n’ roll.  After a few missteps, Motorhead was flying.  Over the course of its 40 year existence (which is officially over according to current drummer Mikkey Dee), the group released 23 studio albums, numerous live albums, compilations, singles and EPs.  Like AC/DC, Slayer and the Ramones, many accuse Motorhead of making the same album over and over again.  This assessment is both lazy and false.  The group stuck with the heavy blues rock format, but kicked up the speed to unfathomably fast tempos, their albums were consistent in sound and tone, the album covers all look the same and Lemmy stuck to mostly the same themes in all of their songs, but mindless repetition it was not.

It’s just that the band’s sole intention was to make good rock ‘n’ roll at three to four minutes a clip (with the very occasional epic making it to six or seven minute length) and nothing more; they never made a double concept album with an elaborate story about a boy’s journey to be a hero in some fantasy land, they never made an acoustic album, they never did an all covers album of old jazz favorites and they never went through phases to prove to people that they vigorously changed in chameleon like fashion to adapt to trends that would be outdated six months later (ahem, David Bowie).  They were just a good time rock ‘n’ roll band who believed in the CRAFT of writing good – nay GREAT – songs that delivered instant pleasure and immediate gratification.

Lemmy’s outlook on life was painfully simple; as Viv Shrimpton said in This Is Spinal Tap, “have a good time all the time.”  Lemmy also claimed that Motorhead are not a political band, but then slightly contradicted this statement when he said, “if I see things as fucked, I’m gonna tell you they’re fucked.”  What did Lemmy see as “fucked”?  War, religion (well, Christianity specifically), politicians and businessmen (basically anyone who wore a suit and sat in an office for a living) and would occasionally attack some of society’s other demons, such as media corruption (“Talking Head”), censorship (“Brave New World”) and child molestation (“Don’t Let Daddy Kiss Me”).

What did Lemmy see as “not fucked”?  Sex (sometimes with underage girls), rock ‘n’ roll, gambling, touring in the U.S.A. and telling various versions of “the man” to shove it.  Oh, and did I mention sex?  The only time in the group’s career where they caused controversy was in 1991 when some feminist harpies complained that the song “I’m So Bad (Baby, I Don’t Care)” is sexist.  This surprised Lemmy more than anyone else, who wondered why they didn’t pick up on other, more blatant songs such as “Jailbait.”

But sexist Lemmy was not; how could he be when he gave full support and backing, not mention collaborating with contemporary, all-female metal band Girlschool?  Lemmy wasn’t racist either, nor was he homophobic.  In fact, in one case, he tricked drummer Mikkey Dee, a good looking glam rocker into hanging out at a gay bar.  Don’t let the hairspray and makeup fool you; Dee was PISSED! But that’s how you build tolerance, by submerging someone in another world.

And yes, I can forgive Lemmy for advocating for the election of Barack Obama in 2012 under the hilarious pretense that Romney would make abortion illegal just like that.  I can understand the concern; when your sperm is floating around in 1,000+ women, abortions probably would save you from going bankrupt.

Above all, Motorhead were a fan’s band.  You either were part of the cult or you weren’t. Motorhead never released an album that sold as much as Back in Black, Appetite for Destruction, Metallica’s self-titled black album or Nevermind.  Their most popular album is still their 1980 masterpiece Ace of Spades and, if I’m not mistaken, it hasn’t even gone platinum!  Indeed there are hundreds of thousands of little bands crawling in the underground that are infinitely less popular than Motorhead, but, what makes Motorhead unique is that they have remained just under the radar, possibly the world’s most popular underdogs and the band that everyone’s favorite bands listened to.  Metallica site Motorhead as a primary influence, name dropped them in just about every interview, performed at Lemmy’s 50th birthday party and even covered several of their songs.  Did this make Motorhead any more popular?  It truly makes me wonder about the taste of the average music fan.  Ironically Motorhead’s one Grammy award came from a cover of the Metallica song “Whiplash.”

In a way, it’s kinda cool; I feel like I’m part of a secret group within a group.  It didn’t matter what sub-sect of the underground you were a part of because Motorhead appealed to all of them.  A Motorhead audience could consist of long haired metal heads, spiky haired punk rockers, pompadour sporting rockabilly dudes, just anybody who enjoys good rock ‘n’ roll.

And, after a long day of work, isn’t that what everyone needs?  In a world where we’re bombarded with threats of terrorism, politicians who want to take away one right after another, high unemployment rates and a media that distorts stories and plays up special interests to drive a narrative, isn’t that what anyone wants?  To sit back with a beer and crank up some loud, ear damaging rock ‘n’ roll music?

Oh and, their logo/mascot, known as either “Snaggletooth”  or the “War Pig” looks hella cool on t-shirts!