“The more liberal stories that were buried the better chance conservative stories have to get to the front page. I’ll continue to bury their submissions until they change their ways and become conservatives.” -phoenixtx (aka vrayz)

I’m watching movies now that my parents wouldn’t let me watch when I was a child. My mother would always make me close my eyes during sex scenes, while my father would finally remember halfway through a bloody massacre to cover my eyes. I watch Shattered starring Tom Berringer. After a car crash down cliff side and extensive plastic surgery Berringer fucks his wife to The Moody Blues and the camera flashes from bed sheets twisting at dusk, to waves crashing against rocks at a beach at dusk. I watch re-watch Hellraiser and fall asleep in the middle. I find Silence of the Lambs brilliant, terrifying, and hilarious, particularly when Biggs throws a wad at Jodi Foster, and when Buffalo Bill yells at the girl in the well to, “Put the fucking lotion in the basket.” I watch Cocktail starring Tom Cruise and Elizabeth Shue and watch him throw bottles over his shoulders and behind his back. He discovers love with Shue and realizes he must love himself before he can love her. She’s secretly rich. They fuck. He opens a bar and they have a child. I re-watch Predator and remember being particularly fond of Jesse Ventura claiming the helicopter to be full of “slack-jawed faggots” and that by chewing tobacco you would become a “sexual tyrannosaurus” just like him. I watch 9 ½ weeks and am vaguely disturbed and aroused. I watch The Garbage Pail Kids movie and am vaguely disturbed and aroused. I think about Babbling Brooke splattered with ketchup and mustard going down on Cole Gate as he jerks his tongue to paste the bristles of his toothbrush. I think about Potty Scotty and Art Apart, Itchy Richie and the lovable Adam Bomb. I look at Boney Tony and Alien Ian and I think, this is my first experience with experimental poetry.