I am Wang Dunkin, former US Navy SEAL and survival expert with over thirty years of field experience in some of the most unforgiving environments known to man. I have been in the shit and lived to tell about it, and now I am going to pass some of my life-saving techniques to you today. That is why I have stranded us on this deserted tropical island with nothing but a bag of random assorted survival tools. Knowing how to properly use these tools could mean the difference between a comfortable beach vacation and a slow death.

Let's see whats in my pack for this trip. I have a bamboo fishing rod with thirty feet of line, two fishing hooks, one energy bar, a magnifying glass, one plastic rain poncho, one waterproof match, and fifty feet of paracord. Wow, these are really great survival tools. And in my expert hands we will have all the comforts of civilization in mere hours. Now pay careful attention, friend. What you learn here might save your life some day.

The first thing that any respectable survivalist must do in a dire situation like this is get a fire started. Fire always means the difference between a rotting corpse and comfortable living, let me tell you. Luckily I have everything I need here to start a life-giving fire right away. First, I am going to use the fifty feet of paracord as kindling for the waterproof match... there we go. Now that I have a small fire going I am going to break down this bamboo fishing pole, since bamboo makes some of the best firewood known to man. Don't bother detaching the fishing line, since it is going to be pretty useless without the actual pole. But once you are warm and toasty you will be pretty glad you sacrificed these relatively useless items.

The second rule of survival is finding or building a shelter, since exposure is the leading cause of death when stranded in the wilderness. I guess I am going to have to build my own shelter here and forego the nice big natural cave over at the forest line since I already have my fire going, and anyone worth their salt knows that once you've got a fire you better not disturb it by carrying embers elsewhere. Fire is a fickle beast, and it is best not to tempt it. But the good news is that we have this plastic rain poncho to help keep the weather out!  I am going to prop it up with some sticks to keep out the coming rain, but I will let you in on a secret of the SEALs: to keep the wind from blowing the poncho all over the place you can ventilate it by tearing a bunch of holes in the plastic. See? Now the wind goes right through the poncho, making sure it is perfectly in place to protect us from those dark clouds on the horizon!

Now we just need to put the final piece of the puzzle in place by finding some food to sustain us in this harsh environment. Good thing I have this energy bar, right? I am just going to jam these two fishing hooks in the center of the bar and use it to double or triple the nutritional value by catching some fish with it! We are going to go hunting for rodents in the forest over there, but the energy bar bait can start catching fish right now. I will just toss it in the shallow water here and head off on the hunt, and when we return we are bound to have a nice, big fish dead from eating the hooks just waiting to be cooked on the fire!

One lesser known hunting technique involves the use of a heavy magnifying glass just like this one. Follow me into the forest and I will show you the tried-and-true methods of our primitive ancestors for hunting rodents. What luck! Just over there we have a big, fat rat sitting on a large rock. He isn't suspecting anything, the poor fella. Now taking a life to sustain your own isn't my favorite part of survival, but it has to be done. My fool-proof method of hunting with a magnifying glass is quite simple, just quietly line up your shot... and... THROW THE GLASS!!! ... Shit. The little bastard got away and my glass is shattered into oblivion on the rock. That never happened before. Oh well, there's always the fish that I surely caught back at camp. Let's head back, it's starting to rain.

Okay, part of surviving is dealing with the unsuspected hurdle that nature throws your way. Now don't panic, but it looks like the fire went out while we were out hunting. I guess there were too many holes in the poncho and the rain put it out. Hmmm... and it seems like the energy bar bait is gone. Must have been a really big fish that took it away before succumbing to the pain of the embedded fish hooks. What are the odds?!? I'll be damned, this is the first time I had any difficulty in a survival situation. Usually my top-notch techniques are fail proof. Good thing we still have that cave over there to keep us out of the rain. It's almost certain that there are poisonous snakes in the cave though, but I will show you a little trick with smearing your feces on your body to keep them at bay. Our rescue boat isn't due for three more days now, so let's make the best of it. I've made a career of making mother nature my bitch, and I won't let a few setbacks like these get the better of me. Let's go.

Greetings, readers.  Tonight I present you with another installment of my demented film reviews with a critique of Schramm: Into the mind of a serial killer.  This is yet another german horror flick to make the list, and shares much in common with Nekromantik, including the director, while maintaining a contrast worth mentioning.  It was directed by Jorg Buttgereit back in 1994 and follows the demise of Lothar Schramm, known as “the lipstick killer”.  Instead of focusing on the more gruesome elements of shock cinema this film instead gives attention to the mindset of the killer and his insanity.

The film begins with Lothar, unconscious on the floor of his apartment.  Then we see that he has fallen from a ladder while painting his walls, which are covered in blood from a recent murder.  He answered his door to see a pair of Christian missionaries, who he lets into his home to discuss his salvation.  When he leaves the room to fetch refreshments he returns with a knife, cutting the throat of the man then changing to a hammer to dispatch the screaming woman.  It was while cleaning up after this crime that he lost balance on the ladder due to a prosthetic leg, and fell to his death.

The film then covers the last few weeks of Lothar’s life, including his relationship with a female neighbor that happens to be a prostitute.  He clearly yearns to be with her, masturbating with an inflatable vagina while hearing her servicing a client through the wall.  We learn that Lothar is a taxi driver, and frequently escorts his whore neighbor to some of her “house calls”, where he has insane and detached daydreams waiting for her.  The line between reality and insanity is difficult to define, and we are treated to scenes of Lothar waking up to find his legs freshly severed, and finding a quivering, oozing vagina with teeth in his bed.  His mental state deteriorates even further until we are treated to a scene where he drives several nails through his uncircumcised penis.

And although he kills strangers without batting an eye he is unable or unwilling to kill his prostitute neighbor, even after drugging her in his apartment.  He simply strips her nude and takes pictures before dressing her and tucking her in for the night.  It is shortly after that he takes his fall and bleeds out on the floor, dreaming of a dark figure striking him down in a foggy abyss.  The film ends with a glimpse of his neighbor tied up in a stranger’s home, in dire trouble after Lothar fails to escort her on her last date following his death.

This film is more interesting than many of the shock horror films I have reviewed in this series.  I appreciate that the director elicits sympathy for the killer without giving him any obvious human virtues, but rather by showing the chaos that goes through his mind all day.  Lothar does not seem like a mindless killer, and appears to be almost harmless when he is not furiously battering and stabbing his victims.  The scenes that stick in the viewer’s mind are not images of bloody murder or dismemberment, but of dark and demented fantasies within the killer’s mind.  And while it is short at just over one hour long, it achieves its objective by keeping the viewer from trying to analyze the killer and just observing his madness and personal tragedy.  This one is worth a watch to anyone more interested in the mindset of killers rather than their specific crimes.

Last night, I had a few friends over to watch men pummel other men in tights and/or bicycle shorts.  Hamtackle and Sir Chapsworth can't get enough of the mixed martial arts, homo-erotic extravaganza that is UFC.  Personally, I am not entirely interested in UFC but I still agreed to host the shindig.  Vicon showed up with a stack of Little Caesar's, so it was shaping up to be a wonderfully drunken evening.

It was raining pretty hard while we were watching the Tickle-fist competition, so we stepped outside to watch the storm.  I live in an area that does not get too much rain, not to mention torrential downpours.  So It was pretty incredible to see the streets swelling with water.

Suddenly, I saw a large toad hop in my front yard.  I see toads all the time but I still like to look at them.  The rain let up for a moment so I approached the amphibic beast.  Much to my surprise it was not the common toad but an American Bullfrog.  "What the fuck?"  I thought.  I don't live very close to any ponds or streams.  Where did this little fucker come from?

How could this slick skinned critter have ended up in my suburban neighborhood?  Could a tornado have scooped him up and placed him in my yard?  Is this the start of a plague like in the bible?  Was one of my neighbors cursed by a witch?  Could a masturbating chimp have dropped him off once sexually satiated?

Did you ever see that video of the chimp using the frog as a Fleshlight?  Fucking hilarious.

My answer on how this unexpected guest arrived at my house was easy to discover.  Just a search for American Bullfrog on Wikipedia produced the following info.  "On rainy nights, bullfrogs, along with many other amphibians, travel overland, and may be seen in numbers on country roads."

I was about to release my moist new friend when he was snatched away by Sir Chapsworth and Hamtackle.  They spent the next few hours watching UFC and sharing their new Fuck Frog.  The frog lived through the night but I don't think he'll ever fully recover.

I had a series of brand new experiences yesterday that I thought I should share with the Popular Irony audience. After dealing with it for years without any trouble, and having perfect dental checkups for years, I had my one and only wisdom tooth surgically removed after noticing a hole in it that quickly grew until a piece broke off. All other teeth are in good condition, and I guess I should consider myself lucky for many reasons since I was only born with one wisdom tooth to begin with, and because although it was virtually inaccessible to my toothbrush I was able to avoid any problems with it until recently. Many of my friends and family have gruesome stories of impacted teeth and the painful horror of the surgical aftermath, but I got through it with just a simple extraction.

But I would like to officially complain about the name "wisdom tooth". What is wise about extra teeth that virtually always need to be removed to prevent life-threatening infection and excruciating pain? A big reason that life expectancy has increased so much in the last couple of centuries is due to advances in tooth extraction, and impacted wisdom teeth were frequently a fatal diagnosis until modern medicine. And since I only had one, what are the implications there? Am I considered to be only 25% as wise as most people? And now that I had it removed am I essentially just a common retard now? Some of my closest friends would say yes. But they are assholes.

The entire process was a greater pain in the ass than it was in the jaw, and that is not a dentist molestation joke. I am pretty sure I am unattractive enough to avoid any anesthesia hanky-panky, but then again I am not sure it would be entirely unwelcome. I'll take what I can get these days. But my brain has been torturing about this process since I decided to have the tooth removed, keeping my already minimal sleep patterns down to under four hours nightly. And it only got worse when I got to the doctor's office when I had to wait for two hours while rudely making sure everyone in the waiting room understood I was not interested in small talk. Then it was my turn.

The doc seemed like a nice enough guy until he made me sign the liability waiver where they explain in detail just how bad the procedure could be, from accidentally breaking your other teeth, to puncturing your sinus and causing a potentially fatal brain abscess. Then I got to appreciate a whole new aspect of being a fatass, the subtle game of "pin the tail on the donkey" that the doctor had to play in order to find a vein in my arms. I got to enjoy five attempts before a successful IV was in place. But once he had it in I felt fine. He said it was the valium.

Next thing I remember was the familiar sensation of a man's hands in my mouth, and everything was over. I felt like I took a punch to the face, but was otherwise alert and feeling well. Now I will get to enjoy my upcoming european vacation without worrying about the ticking time bomb of infection in my mouth, and I get vicodin to boot! But just to show you the level of dedication I have to this blog, I asked to keep the tooth for documentation purposes. Enjoy this image and try to imagine just how disgusting I must be for this to have come out of my head.

I am fucking made of success!

I'm a busy guy.  A real fucking "Go Getter".  I don't have time for bullshit and time wasting.  My life is a constant flow of action followed by great accomplishments.  I am a fucking business dynamo. 

Cook breakfast?  Fuck that shit!  I eat a motherfucking breakfast bar.  Iron my clothes?  Fuck that shit!  Just get it moist and throw it in the dryer for a couple minutes.  Exercise?  Fuck that shit!  I run my exercise tape at double speed and get the workout done in half the time.  Microwave soup?  Fuck that shit!  I chug soup cold from the fucking can. 

Every day, I find  new way to take minutes from the mundane and use them for something that fucking matters.  Just today I found a way to save myself at least 30 seconds a fucking day.  It's fucking brilliant.  I wipe while I shit.  None of that "finish pooping and then wipe", fuck that!  I wipe while i shit.

I got the idea watching my dog drag his ass across the floor.  It looked satisfying as fuck!  I also noticed how delectably clean my dogs anus is.  It is fucking uncanny!  I knew I could incorporate this tactic into my busy, daily life.

What I do is get a large bath towel.  I stand in my empty bath tub, naked.  I squat a bit and wrap the towel under my groin like I am flossing my butt crack and balls.  I push as hard as I fucking can and when I feel the feces started to leave my body, I vigorously rub with the towel, back and forth, back and forth.  The towel grabs the shit and wipes my ass at the same time.  Now you need to rotate the towel lightly with each pass otherwise the poop goes back on your ass.  Less than 20 seconds later, the ass is clean and the towel is not.  Then I just throw that fucking towel away. 

I am a huge fucking success so I can afford to buy all the fucking bath towels I want.  My fucking toilet paper has a higher thread count than your bedsheets.  There are some downsides though.  Pushing that hard tends to rupture blood vessels around my anus.  It causes bleeding and huge hemorrhoids.  That is the price of fucking success. What about the feces on the floor of my bathtub?  I pay a maid for that shit!  I don't have time to push those nuggets through my bathtub drain with my toes!  That is what I pay Svetlana for!

Business business business!!  Success is earned motherfuckers!  Sometimes you gotta put up with bleeding anal ulcers to save a few minutes.  FUCK!  I am late for something important.  Thanks for sapping my fucking time!  You are the reason this country is failing!  Sitting down to poop.....   Fucking bourgeois fucks!!

Well, we did it. Despite our rigorous schedules of doing absolutely nothing of value Terlet and I have managed to keep this shitty blog going for a full year now. So to mark the occasion I decided to pull the veil back a bit and shine some light on the pale underbelly that spawned this little website we call Popular Irony. Now I am not so diluted to think that anyone reading this has been with us for very long, and certainly not since the beginning, but I am going to pretend for the next few minutes that we have some kind of dedicated following of readers that stuck by us for the past twelve months, so please humor me.

I started the blog by myself on a whim back on July 5 2011 after doing some painful introspection. I was 30 years old and had already lived a bit longer than I ever expected to, or maybe even a bit longer than I would have preferred, and I had just recently attended the wedding of my future fellow blog writer, Terlet. He and I have known each other since we were kids, attending grade school together and playing high school football, but really got to know each other when we attended college together when I lived with blog contributor and non-sexual male companion Sir Chapsworth. But when he was married in our home town I went back for the first time in many years, and seeing all our old friends that gathered from across the country had the predictable effect of making me critical of myself.

I had been working for the same company for a decade and knew it would never go anywhere, felt alone in the world, and was afflicted with the not-very-unique condition of having failed to live up to the potential and expectation that everyone but me saw in myself. I guess I was just looking for something to look forward to, a way to express my thoughts and try to be a little creative. I started writing some posts that were just half-assed renditions of personal stories and thoughts of mine, and had no expectations of anyone ever reading it.  But I was enjoying myself in my anonymous online forum.

I had told no one about my blog, probably due to my self-consciousness about it's admittedly shitty content, but decided to reach out to Terlet for some feedback so I sent him the link. But I had ulterior motives. I knew that if I kept things up Terlet would want to be a part of my pet project, and secretly hoped to benefit from his artistic and comedic creativity. We had discussed working together in the past, mostly on stories and graphic novels, but never followed through. But with such an accessible online forum it became more easily achievable, and I was able to get Terlet interested when I posted my first completely fictitious and comedic post entitled "Midgets, Dwarfs, and Other Unfortunate Half-Humans". Terlet called me and said that he liked it, and was interested in possibly starting a blog of his own, so I offered to give him administrator rights to my blog instead.

His contributions were immediately beneficial to the blog, from a complete site redesign to registering the popularirony.com domain and popularirony@gmail.com address, and we both spent a month and a half publishing one post each every day to build a catalog of content, eventually alternating days. But since that first day one year ago we have not missed a single day, making sure something was posted here no matter how hastily produced or pathetic. We were enjoying the interaction with our readers early on, tracking our pageviews, and working on blog promotion.

Since then our focus changed from writing short stories to producing absurd characters, and we made several lackluster attempts at integrating other media such as video, spoken word, music, and art. We now regularly poke fun at every conceivable taboo subject from religion to pornography, violence to politics, drug abuse to homosexuality, and everything in-between. And while I admit that we often "phone it in" from time to time, I enjoy the process as much now as when we started, if not for the chance to share a laugh then for the excuse to meet up and work on content. And far from thinking about stopping, I am eager to try new things and expand our production. Right now we are working on producing a podcast and have several ideas for projects that range from puppet shows to pen and paper role playing games, but never without our trademark absurdity.

So I guess I want to thank our fickle audience now, the silent, anonymous readers that have grown in terms of numbers but shrunk in terms of interactivity. I don't care if you refuse to comment or send email. I enjoy your faceless consumption of our daily filth, and amuse myself by imagining what kind of people you are. My only evidence comes in the form of reviewing our analytics and trying to devise what kind of person sees the offensive content we have created and doesn't immediately turn tail and run, but subscribes to the feed and checks in regularly to see what's new.

My best evidence to the kind of person that reads Popular Irony is by analyzing the search terms that draw people from google. So I want to end by sharing some of my favorites. These are actual keywords that people search in google to find our blog:

watch granny fuck

vomit pictures

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So thanks for reading, and we will be back tomorrow with our regularly scheduled unfunny comedic filth.

Everyone knows that the 4th of July was originally adopted as a federal holiday to commemorate the signing of the declaration of independence, officially cutting ties to Great Britain, but very few know the deeper significance that the date has accumulated over the years. We here at the Patriotic Historical Revisionist Society of America are here to bring you the whole story.

Lets go back to 1948, just after the end of world war II. America was still licking it's wounds that came with the huge national sacrifice necessary to single-handedly rid the world of the scourge of nazism, and we were struggling to convert our factories back to their original purposes after they had been repurposed to support the war, families were keeping up appearances and moving forward despite the toll that was demanded of them, and the world was looking for a way to properly thank their yankee saviors for the selfless and heroic rescue that led to the death of Adolf Hitler.

But America remained true to their grand international stature by demanding no tribute from wounded europe to repay for this rescue, and instead focused on once again dominating international trade and culture the world over. It was the great Winston Churchill that first suggested that some gesture was necessary to thank the United States for it's thankless heroism, and made a formal invitation to the heads of state of every european nation, including the still untrusted Italy and Germany, to convene in a fealty council in an effort to inspire unity in europe once again. The subject of their council was simple: to find a fitting way to thank the US for avoiding the seemingly unstoppable domination of the nazi menace and the inevitable decline of mankind.

France offered to create a new and exciting cheese in the honor of America. Italy offered to adopt the American national anthem as their own. Sweden considered sending every female on her 18th birthday on a pilgrimage to America to lose her virginity. Ireland thought of making an annual gift of 20% of their yearly production of Guiness and whiskey. But in the end it was Churchill himself that decided the matter and united all of europe to accept his proposal. So when July 4th of that year rolled around a european vote was called, and it was unanimous. Europe declared the United States as the international leader of all of europe and pledged loyalty and obedience to our wonderful nation for all time from that day forward.

I know what you are thinking. "Why haven't I ever heard of this? There seems to be some animosity between the US and europe from time to time, and the president never makes demands of europe that would be implied by their status as the leader of europe. This just doesn't make sense!" But the answer is simple. America has taken the high ground and once again proven to be the finest example of civilization that has ever been by refusing to act on it's power over europe, even declining the offer to collect a tax on all gdp of every european nation citing it's own distaste of taxation without representation. And in doing so America has cemented itself in the history books as the most just and grand country in history. Enjoy independence day and spread the word of America's reign as leader of all of europe, and thank God for every blessed minute you get to live in this fine country of ours.

Churchill addressing the fealty council

Sheriff Andy Taylor is dead?!  Who the fuck would murder a small town sheriff?!  There is no way this is natural causes, it is far too suspicious.  I suspect foul play!  This is outrageous!  Move your ass Darlene! The first 48 hours of a crime are the most important hours.  This horrible bullshit will not go unsolved!

We have to act fast! We are going to need the best of the best for this case.  Darlene, put a call into Atlanta. To the Law Offices of Ben Matlock!  The Fulton County Courthouse will have to do without him for a few days.  This is too fucking important.  He may be a lawyer but he is the best person I can think of to crack this case.

.....What the fuck do you mean Matlock is dead, Darlene!?  Who the fuck murdered Matlock!? 

What monster could do this?  Who else is going to have the fortitude and conniving southern geniality to solve this horrible crime.  Fuck!  Well, try calling Columbo.  Columbo is the finest homicide detective in the nation.  I will pay to fly him in from Los Angeles, it will be worth it.  Sheriff Taylor and Matlock deserve nothing but the best.  No, I don't know his fucking first name!

 ......  Columbo is dead!?  Who could get the drop on Columbo?  He was so wily and always breaking cliches.  I am getting fed up with your bullshit Darlene!

Fuck!  It sounds like we have a serial killer.  How the fuck are we going to solve this case?  Somebody is murdering Americas greatest defenders of justice!  Wait a second... Wait a second!  Place a call to the New York City Police Department's Eleventh Precinct and get me Detective Lieutenant Theo Kojak.  That Greek sonofabitch might be our only hope to shed some light on this fucking case.

...........  What the fuck!? No!  Not him!  Not Kojak too!  GODDAMN FUCK STICKS DARLENE!

This can't be happening.  Maybe I should think outside of the box.....  I heard about this Catholic priest in Chicago who solves murders like he's handing out the Eucharist.  Send for Father Dowling!

....  Don't fucking tell me... He's dead too isn't he?  Bullshit!  Darlene, I don't know how you get paid to be fucking worthless!

This murderer will never stop.  We need somebody who understands the criminal mind.  Our only hope my be with another great lawyer.  A legal dynamo.  One of the greatest criminal lawyers in history.  Get me, motherfucking, Perry Mason!!

  ....... You are fucking kidding me!?  Perry Mason would know better... HE WOULD KNOW BETTER!!  DAAARLEEENE!!!

Goddamn shitting cunts!!!  Who the fuck is slaughtering these people!? ....  Think, Darlene, think!!  Who the fuck can we get!?  ......... Famous mystery author Jessica Fletcher!?  Fucking Jessica Fletcher!?  That's it!   I've solved it!  Jessica Fletcher fucking killed Andy Taylor...  She fucking killed them all!  It all makes fucking sense!  I've suspected her for years.  She lives in that tiny town of Cabot Cove in Maine, but every week she manages to solve a murder.  It's insane!

I bet the cops were finally getting suspicious so she started knocking off the best criminal minds to prevent capture. I'm sure that Jessica Fletcher has a crazy sex/murder addiction.  I bet she tried her little tricks in the small town of Mayberry.  That shit don't fly in Mayberry.  Fucking Sheriff Taylor was onto her shit and I bet she knew it.  She murder/raped him to keep him quiet, Basic Instinct style.  Goddammit Sheriff Taylor!  Why didn't you carry a fucking gun!!??  It is the only reasonable explanation.  Darlene, check that body for signs of rape.  Now, I just have to prove it...    Darlene, place a call to the LAPD, ask for Sergeant Joe Friday.

....... Darlene?  You are the worst kid sidekick a veteran cop could ever have.  Go back to the orphanage.

The sperm bank is a place that pairs up poor but genetically desirable masturbators with sexually barren relationships such as infertile male partners or lesbians. It serves a needy population that is either unsatisfied with the quality of available children within the adoption pool, or women that feel a burning need to sacrifice their womb to the demands of their insistent biological clock. In my humble opinion, anyone that feels the need to procreate should be talked out of it or settle for an already-living baby that was the product of another couple's hasty mistake, particularly in the case of infertility. We have enough people on this earth and children get on my nerves. So how can one sabotage this useless industry and strike a blow for negative population growth? Well I have a few simple ideas.

Now there are many methods one could employ to damage the reputation of these baby factories, such as disseminating misinformation to the media and internet forums. Call the media anonymously and claim that you are HIV positive and have been successfully donating to various sperm banks for years, and the failure of the banks to detect your illness has recently led to personal guilt that led you to speak up. Or maybe you could claim that you were a long time employee that has been switching samples with your own, and have probably fathered thousands of children. Either way you should see a dramatic decrease in business.

But the best methods of trolling sperm banks is accomplished from within. Firstly, you will need to gain access to the sperm bank reserves, which can be quite difficult unless employed by the bank. So either make a career change or take a rather serious risk by pretending to be an employee. From there you have two excellent options to sabotage some unsuspecting couple's genetic future. The less cruel of the two options involves messing with the expected outcome by switching the samples around. My best suggestion is that you switch all the blond haired, blue eyed donors with african-american ones. Not only will you potentially destroy the relationship by adding a suspicion of cheating in the couple, but you could possibly get lucky and crush the dreams of a few unsuspecting racists! Two birds with one stone, baby! Imagine the disappointment of a white supremacist in the delivery room when the kid is born... priceless.

The second option is more hardcore, but will go a longer way toward discrediting sperm banks as a whole. You will need to get a hold of a non-toxic chemical that can taint the sperm without killing it outright, and while there are many you could choose from, some are difficult to obtain. But if you are proficient in chemistry, you can download a simple pdf with instructions on how to synthesize acrylamide, which is present in tobacco smoke and can cause a whole host of birth defects of varying severity, all the way up to cancer! If you don't have the necessary skills you could always employ a chemistry student from your local university and they shouldn't have much difficulty performing this step for you, provided they are not incompetent. To avoid suspicion just explain that you are an inventor working on your own formula of industrial grouts and cements. Then just spike the samples (a little will go a long way) and your job is done. Cue the three-headed baby!

So the next time you walk through a department store and wish you had a shotgun to deal with the rampant plague of self obsessed kids remember these suggestions. After all, we all have to share this world we live in and we should have a say in just how fucking crowded it gets.

Hello again, filth hounds! Welcome to another installment of Films For Fiends with your dear Hamtackle, where I watch the most offensive and vile movies available, ruin the plotlines, then give a brief review. Today I bring you August Underground's Mordum. It strikes me as an incredibly cheaply made indie goth shock film, but let's not judge a book by it's cover.

The film is entirely shot with what looks like a handheld VHS camcorder, and begins with a man catching his girlfriend fucking another man, who we later find out is her brother. When confronted the woman uses a transparently fake special effect to "cut" herself, and her boyfriend tries to let off steam by tracking down a random man and attacking him with a hammer. Afterwards the couple searches the man's house to find disturbing evidence of a household of junkies, complete with maggot-ridden food and overdose victims, before settling in to cut apart the body of the hammer victim.

Then cut to another home, where our duo inexplicably have a pair of people tied up and locked in wooden chests. They pull one woman out and rape/sexually assault her, and torment a man with a knife and scissors, forcing him to castrate himself. This leads to further sexual torment for the female prisoner as the pair shove the severed cock into her vagina. Classy, I know.

The next ten minutes or so consists of throwaway footage of the couple aggravating a store clerk and eating in cheap restaurants before returning to their lair to further abuse their captives, which still have yet to have any backstory explained. The woman proceeds to abuse the prisoners, leading to disgusting footage of a chunky emo girl laughing and puking on two other chunky crying emo girls. Forget gore, this is the most disturbing aspect of this film and will probably be a lifetime boner-kill to everyone but the actors involved. Oh yes, and now there is another man in the video, who we see brief glimpses of as the camera is passed around. This goes on for around twenty minutes until the dark haired fat chick is disemboweled, and the light haired fat chick is suffocated and beaten. The scene ends with one of the men having sex with the stomach wound of the recently dispatched dark haired woman.

There is quite a bit of cinematic body exploration in the middle of the movie, from the men showing their tiny, flaccid penises to the woman rubbing her pussy on everything within reach and playing with one man's toes. And not surprisingly the filmmakers don't miss the opportunity to show off their musical skills, you know, since they are making a movie that no one but me will watch. And can you guess what kind of music they play? If you guessed "incompetent death metal" then you get a cookie!

We are then treated to disjointed scenes of the group getting piercings and having fake fistfights, punctuated by additional close up shots of them flashing their genitals. The off-putting woman seems to have an amazing talent of vomiting on command, and they take the camera on a tour of their home which is by now littered with rotting body parts. These people must know someone with actual skill in prop making, as the body parts are passable effects considering that the quality of the film leads you to expect paper mache or something equally cheap.

Tragically the group suffers from increased infighting, resulting in more shrill screaming and hilarious arguments before ending abruptly with the insinuation that they all killed each other. The end is quite welcome, as is the implied death of all characters involved since they are not developed into any kind of story and inspire no emotions other than contempt and pity. To say it was pointless would be an understatement.

Now I feel like I should offer a brief warning for this movie, as if you intend on watching it you will have to put up with some of the most annoying performances ever captured on film. The female lead shrieks constantly, the male leads giggle like retards, and there is an overwhelming odor of chubby, unwashed emo throughout. Make no mistakes, this movie was made for the expressed purposes of shock value and overall it tries WAY too hard. I suppose that when the "filmmakers" finished this work they were pretty convinced they had produced one of the most shocking movies of all time. But all they had done, in my opinion, is create an unwatchable, poorly edited, steaming pile of shaky camerawork filled with self indulgence. It is clear that a group of social reject friends got together and decided that instead of cutting themselves and writing shitty poetry they should make a movie.

From what I have read there was a decent amount of uproar following the release of this film as many thought they were watching genuine torture-porn, but from what I can tell this is mostly because the acting and camerawork are so terrible that many might conclude that it must be genuine. Bravo, shitty producers. Bravo. Overall I would say that these people tried so hard to be dark and "edgy" that it is like Marilyn Manson and Criss Angel had a baby, got it addicted to meth, beat it into retardation, then filmed it's dreams.  But in a hilariously bad way. I fucking hated this movie, but unfortunately I downloaded two others by these filmmakers already so I might as well review them in a future installment of Films For Fiends.