by Sean McTiernan

Of all the movies we’re discussing this month,Blood Diner is the most divorced from reality. It makes an incredibly consistent argument for its own distance from verity. While most films take place in somewhere at least tangentially relatable, Blood Diner drives across that line it in a flaming Cadillac. A Cadillac made of cannibalism, Nudie suits and wrestlers called Eddie Hitler.

Two brothers, Mike and George, run a vegetarian restaurant. They are also cannibals and so tend to include human remains in their food. And cat corpses. Of course, their restaurant is insanely popular. The implication here is: if you put a dead man’s asscheek in vegetarian food, it will probably taste better than all other vegetarian food. The brothers belong to an ancient cult. Their tradition was handed down by their uncle, seconds before he was gunned down by police after he raped and murdered an entire glee club. Blood Diner is the story of Mike and George trying to sew together women’s body parts so they can resurrect the goddess Shitaar with their dead uncle’s brain inside. Oh and they still have to run the restaurant. And there’s some wrestling and at least three musical numbers. So no, not really the proto-mumblecore movie some of you may have been hoping for.

One of my favourite minor horror characters is this fat vegetarian trucker. When asked his name he says, “You can call me Vitamin, see?”. Despite the groaning you are doing inside your head, this is an extremely excellent joke and deserves to be admired. Especially since no “real” name is given, and this pudgy beardy man is known as “Vitamin C” for the rest of the movie. He repeatedly enthuses (in an oddly-dubbed voice) about the boys’ cooking and seems obliviously friendly, despite how frequently he gets the shite hammered out of him by one of the brothers. These beatings are occasionally so severe they induce vomiting. (Also frequent: the horrible dubbing. I don’t even know if it’s intentional but I’d like to think so.)

There’s very little competition for single funniest scene in Blood Diner. I mean, how many movies have produced such a casually-received car crash?

When not preparing for the resurrection of Shitaar or cooking vegetarian meals with dog dicks, brother George Tutman is tormented by the existence of wrestler Eddie Hitler. Eddie is a bleach blond jock whose only real attempt at a costume is a swastika arm band and a moustache like the dude in Sparks. It’s a rare film that takes time out from its demon resurrection/cannibal vegetarian restaurant plot line to resolve a wrestling match, but this is a braver movie than most.

The reason the movie is so blithely offensive and unrealistically insane is quite simple: it cares about its audience. Director Jackie Kong knew that schlock cinema doesn’t present acting and emotional resonance very well. So why make the mistake many other schlocky movies make and insert long, pointless dialogue exchanges and expository scenes? Instead the film takes what would constitute the craziest five minutes of most campy horror movies and extends that maniac bizarreness into a whole movie. I’ve gotten this far and there are still a glut of lunatic scenes I haven’t even touched on yet. Like when George deep fries a naked woman’s head and then slices it off with a shovel. Or the machine gunning of a room full of teenage girls doing naked cheerleading. Or even the musical number at the end where Mike Tutman and his implausible quiff are backed by 6 rockabilly Hitlers.

This movie is deeply committed to entertaining and offending. If you you’re not driven to laughter and/or vomit by whatever’s onscreen, wait a few seconds and something on a whole other plane of crazy will arrive. Blood Diner is the opposite of Michael Haneke’s Cache. It’s non-stop stimulus, the plot is actually something you’ll want to follow, it achieves what it sets out to do and the ending is ambiguous in a satisfying way rather than just a feeble attempt to be arty. That’s right, I just took down famous movie director Michael Haneke. That’s how pumped up this movie’s ever-escalating adrenaline assualt has left me. This is what movies are about.

Sean Mc Tiernan has a blog and a twitter. So does everyone, though. He also has a podcast on which he has a nervous breakdown once an episode, minimum. You should totally email him with your questions / insults/ offers of tax-free monetary gifts.

After the magic that was California’s debates, last night was Kentucky. It went poorly. Tonight? New York’s gubernatorial candidates! All seven of them. You really should watch this on your NY1, when Charles Barron destroys Carl Paladino. Seeing as things went so well in the Chicago governor’s race, we can surely do better. By “better” I obviously mean “more violent.”

“Older workers and bosses still think that drinking together until everyone becomes drunk is the solution to everything and that people get closer on such occasions. However, the younger generation prefers more personal time after work and they see these events as a burden.”
-A banker explains the generational conflict in Korea, where the business culture is centered around drinking heavily after hours. These kids really need to respect the wisdom of their elders.

Photo by grahamhills from Flickr.

O m g just met elizabeth warren! SO EXCITED! I just know she’s going to do a great job! The whole thing was so much fun!less than a minute ago via OpenBeak

Isaac Mizrahi
IsaacMizrahi

Life just keeps throwing us curve balls. I love the idea of designer Isaac Mizrahi and Elizabeth Warren, head of the new Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, conferring about important issues. And it makes sense: they’re both bankruptcy experts. (KIDDING!) Anyway, delightful. Now I will sit back and wait for the inevitable Mary Schapiro/Tom Ford tete-a-tete to happen.

We now live in a world where the United States Department of Justice has to file a court brief asserting that “Islam is a religion and therefore entitled to freedom of expression.”

by Tyler Coates

15. Wakey Wakey

14. The Twees

13. Skeet Skeet

12. Penguin Prison

11. Penguin Penguin

10. Oh Snap!

9. Mantyhose

8. Le Divorce

7. Jenifer Convertible

6. Gringo Star

5. Gay For Johnny Depp

4. Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.

3. COOLRUNNINGS

2. Care Bears on Fire

1. AIDS Wolf

Tyler Coates moved to New York City to enjoy the majesty of it all.

Here’s the video for Twista’s new single, which features some dynamite production from the veteran Chicago team of No I.D. and Traxster (I don’t know what that sample is, but I wish I did) and a cooled-out guest verse from Raekwon. Twista, who was original known as “Tung Twista,” and, as you might know, was named the world’s fastest rapper the Guiness Book of World Records, delivers a typically complicated and impressive staccato rhyme. Ignore the part where he says that he’s “as good as Pelican Brief is…” (Because, really? Was The Pelican Brief that good? A matter of opinion, I suppose.) And listen to rest of the song, which is even better than The Pelican Brief.

The Soft Boys’ Underwater Moonlight and A Can of Bees have been re-released on the Yep Roc label. While Moonlight-easily one of my top ten albums ever-got a reissue about a decade ago, this is the first time Bees has been available on CD in about twenty years. Strongly recommend.

by Erica Sackin

I’m not sure why you’d actually want to know how to pick up a young hipster woman. We’re all too-skinny obnoxious know-it-alls who sneer at you for listening to last year’s Billboard Charts topper (unless it’s Lady Gaga, of course). Maybe you like the masochism, I don’t know. Maybe you have a tattoo fetish. Maybe going to rock shows and eating all-organic locally sourced beef and/or vegan meals found in dumpsters is cheaper than that new Ferrari you’d otherwise get in your quarter or mid-life crisis. Maybe you’ve been reading the collected works of Mystery the Pickup Artist and want to expand your repertoire (in which case, stop; there’s a strong chance you shouldn’t be dating any girls, anywhere, ever). Maybe you’re a slightly nerdy boy in a low-fi surf rock band who loves to bake his own pies but is too desperately shy to work up the nerve to talk to the gorgeous brunette with half her head shaved and a tattoo of some Joy Division lyrics on her thigh (in which case, you’re adorable, email me). Whatever your reason, it’s obvious you’re going to need some help. Because I’ve seen you doing it wrong.

Here’s the big secret about dating hipster girls: we’re just the same as everyone else, only cuter, better dressed, and know way more about music and pop culture than you do. But in the end we’re still looking for the same thing everybody else is: someone who’s cute, smart, funny, won’t be too much of a jerk and is at least familiar with the discography of Matt and Kim.

So lose the keffiyeh (you look like an idiot and no one’s worn those for three or twenty-three years), put down the Monster energy drink, stop asking people if they like Arcade Fire, and listen to me.

Step one: Come to us.
I don’t know where you live and, frankly, I don’t care. Unless it would make a good crash pad because it’s around the corner from our favorite dive bar that serves those frito pies we always end up craving at 4 a.m., nobody’s going to care. Come to us. We’re very busy! There’s band practice on Tuesdays and Sundays; graphic novel book club every other Friday; kickball league on Wednesday nights; rehearsal for our new performance art/dance troupe that still doesn’t have a name on Thursdays; our volunteer shift at the rooftop farm is every third Monday; and sure, our bike gang may not go on rides again until next summer but that doesn’t mean we’re not going to get drinks together every Saturday afternoon and plan for it. We just don’t have time to venture outside of the the 3.5 neighborhoods where all this stuff is happening, let alone to come and meet you in a bar in midtown. Instead, make the trek to our neighborhoods. Join the clubs we’re in. It might even give you something to talk to us about.

Step Two: Yes, just talk to us.
We may look judgmental, but mostly that’s just our eye makeup running a little and making us squint. Really, we’re quite nice. It’s okay if you don’t have as many tattoos as we do, or can’t quite muster up enough testosterone to grow a full beard. There’s an 80 percent chance our last boyfriend was a starving artist who moved into our place after two weeks of dating because the art studio where he’d been crashing didn’t actually have a bathroom aside from the shared one down the hall, and we just had to kick him out after discovering that not only did things like “paying rent” stiffle his creative spirit but so did that hassle called “fidelity,” as we found out thanks to that blond skank he went home with from Union Pool. Who gave him bed bugs.

We’re might not break our facade of cool to come over and talk to you, but chances are if you offer to buy us a drink we’ll take you up on it (let’s be real: we’re living off our credit cards, don’t have health insurance and are drinking here because they sell PBR & a whiskey shot for $3. Of course we will take you up on it). We probably have a lot to talk about-we too may harbor an unhealthy obsession with “Jersey Shore,” like the latest Ke$ha song, or be equally fascinated by Insane Clown Posse. My friend Jesse says, “the biggest difference between trying to pick up a ‘hipster girl’ and J-Woww is most hipster girls will value commonality much more than your average girl. They have had a life of feeling disillusioned and outcast from others and want to feel like they have a friend in this dark, cold universe. If you feel there is a strong chance her favorite movie is Harold and Maude, just like yours, bring it up ASAP.”

So: you like bikes? Mention that the fixed gear bike we parked outside is kinda sexy. Happen to think our faded Slayer t-shirt is awesome? Well then, say so. Tell us you like our tattoos, although be careful with that one. As my friend Jackie warns (whose tattoos are admittedly pretty awesome): “Do not under any circumstances refer to my tattoos as ‘tats’ or ‘ink.’ That just sounds douchey. A line like
‘I really like your work, who did it?’ can work quite nicely, and is most effective if you actually know some artists and/or shops. But!” she added, “no touching the tattoos, they are not 3-D and you are not invited to put your hands on me… no matter how cute you are…. That will have to wait.”

Step Three: Don’t be creepy.
This one especially goes out to that dude last Friday night who thought it was hilarious to keep asking if we had nipple piercings, that guy who “jokingly” said it looked like we were wearing our dead grandmother’s jacket and then tried to get our number, and especially the dude who hands out those “Karaoke Wizard” business cards around the Lorimer stop and then systematically hits on every single Asian girl in the bar regardless of whether or not she is there with her boyfriend.

Stop it. You’re creeps. This is creepy. And negging doesn’t work. There is a reason none of these techniques are working, and it’s because you’re transparently a douchebag. Also, we have self-esteem! We have enough to worry about at the moment-we have about $20 in our bank account, didn’t sleep well last night because our downstairs neighbor was holding a pop-punk showcase that went until 4 a.m. and we’re rushing to finish making enough necklaces to sell at the flea market this weekend. The last thing we want to worry about is whether or not some random creep (you) is going to try to roofie our drinks. Talk to us like a normal person, make us laugh, that’s all great. But it’s not endearing to make fun of our shoes. It took us an hour to get our hair to look this good-we don’t want to have to run home and shower just to wash your sliminess off us.

Step Four: Bone up on pop culture.
You don’t need to don skin-tight acid-washed jeans or try to pull off that southwestern poncho. You don’t have to love Best Coast or Dan Deacon. But please. Loose the baggy blue jeans with the tattered bottoms. Toss the trucker hat. Expand your itunes beyond U2 and Coldplay. That’s the great thing about the Internet-you can listen to music, read about fashion, find out what you like and update your life a little. Because after a certain point, sporting something like a goatee isn’t just you being adorably nerdy. It’s you being so out of touch with current culture people will start to worry a sociopath.

Step Five: It’s not called flakiness, it’s called letting your plans evolve.
The last time anybody I know made and stuck to solid plans was somewhere around the spring of 1989, when no one but yuppies in the movies carried cell phones, because they were still the size of bricks. We’re not flaky, it’s just that often times something better comes up. Sure, on a Monday afternoon it sounds like a great idea to go see the new 3D Wes Craven movie with you this weekend. But on Saturday afternoon we all of a sudden remember our friend’s art opening is that night and then Sarah texts about this loft party where the guy from our favorite band Slaughtered Twin’s new side project Half Absorbed Twin Fetus is playing their first ever show, and, well, we’re not going to miss that.

But you know what will impress us? If you can keep up as we hop from that matinee Todd P show to our friend’s zine launch party to fried chicken dinner to a couple of bars and then dancing until 4 a.m. at our friend’s DJ night. Or better yet-come up with something more fun to do and we might just follow you anywhere. Pop-up art party in the back of rented U-Haul trucks in Bushwick? Birthday party with a boxing ring and a slip ’n’ slide? We’re up for it. Sure, the traditional dinner and a movie date might be dead, but it’s been replaced by something better-making each night into an epic quest to have the time of your life.

On a related note, sorry about not returning your phone call. Next time text, email, IM, Facebook or direct-message at us. We’ll probably respond in a few minutes, instead of the week it took us to realize you’d left us a voicemail.

Sponsored posts are purely editorial content that we are pleased to have presented by a participating sponsor, in this case Gillette; advertisers do not produce the content.

Erica Sackin is our Spandex Report columnist, which focuses on the lives of the young, so she would know. She is also the proprietor of Erica Saves the Day.

Photo by Jon Gos from Flickr.

A man in Sheffield, England, has been delivered from a lifetime of crippling earaches after doctors found a tooth that had been lodged in his ear canal for 33 years.