Black Sun -- The Nanking Massacre

I'm just gonna believe everything in this movie actually happened if for no other reason than Iris Chang eventually killed herself.

Cemetery Man

We've been into horror flix for a good while now, but it wasn't until we made some super great friends at our super shitty job that we became the Highland Cinema you know and adore today. It wasn't that long ago (only a coupla years) when all our screenings were John Sayles and Woody Allen. It wasn't that long ago when we thought of our "Splatto Jacko" worship and MonsterVision pantomiming were little more than relics of our teenage past. But before we knew it we found ourselves with brand new compadres making the trek for every new blood encrusted zombie-fest we could get our hands on. Pretty soon the Fangoria convention was a necessity. Pretty soon Riki-Oh was on perpetual repeat. Before long we decided most of them other movies were fucking boring; the only thing worthwhile in this life was the brutal depiction of the epic Hobbesian struggle.

Cemetery Man is truly outstanding all by itself, but we loved it even more than you ever could just for reminding us of our own genesis.

Hated: GG Allin and the Murder Junkies

As part of our continuing effort to expose ourselves to the most hideous things in the history of all existence we decided to watch Hated for the second time. Yeah, I can't believe it either. Wouldn't you think our need to watch a jockstrap-laden psychopath rub his own poop on his face, throw some chick into a wall, and slice himself with razor blades had already been satiated? Did we really need to hear #1 GG fan tell us about Allin's pen pal friendship with other waste-of-life John Wayne Gacy? Or see shocking Polaroids of these naked sleazebag Murder Junkies in various states of arousal? Probably not. I think we just like talking about Todd Phillips.

Crumb

Part of our Hall of Fame and the probably the Best of 1995. Famously denied a nomination. The world mourned.

R Crumb comes off as really funny and personable, and he is quite the snappy dresser. The critics surmised that art is therapy, but the social constructivist within me submits to you the proposition that interaction is therapy.