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Sunday, 24 October 2010

Florida Pastor Given New Car to Not Burn Qu'ran. Sets a Dangerous Precident (That We Can All Exploit). (Text)

Official warning: If you are easily offended, or even get offended at pretty well anything, I advise you to skip this article. All suggestions made are for illustrative and comedic purposes only, and are not to be taken seriously. I am in no way advising you to actually do any of the things suggested in this article, no matter how hilarious they may be. The word 'nigger' is again used only for illustrative purposes, but has been left uncensored because, honestly, if you were clicking this link not expecting anything that offensive, you really haven't been on this Blog much. Cunt.

Am I the only one who realizes a "day" isn't 3 hours long??

It was revealed yesterday that the Florida pastor who planned to burn copies of the Qu’ran in order to mark the 9th anniversary of the Twin Towers attacks was given a brand new Hyundai by a New Jersey car dealership as a thank you for not going through with his book burning. Unfortunately for car dealerships across the globe, but fortunately for us, this has now set a precedent. So, in order to cash in on this 'outrage for cars' scheme, I’ve decided to pitch you a few ideas on how best to offend people, and what their relative value in vehicle would be.


Sit in the audience for the next Question Time, and when picked by David Dimbleby to ask the next question, call out the Conservative MP and say “You know, I hear a lot of people say that the Tories are right-wing, and ‘fascist’. But if the Conservatives really are Nazis, then why is our economy so bad? Everyone knows that Hitler had the best economic policy of the 30s”. When you are misquoted the next day in the papers and on Blogs, state that you are fed up with the media implying that every compliment directed at Hitler is “anti-semitic” and that you believe there should be a statue of Hitler built on the fourth plinth at Trafalgar square to correct the damage caused to his reputation by these implications. Turn up the next day with a news crew, a picture of Hitler, and some building materials, and get to work. I guarantee you’ll have at least a new Subaru by lunchtime.


Make a short film in which you play Jesus, but set in the modern day. Don’t specifically say it’s Christ, but imply that it could be. Open with you telling off your friend for saying that someone “Jewed him”, because it’s not nice to insult other people’s cultures. Once it’s clear that he’s got the message, show Jesus walk into the bathroom and sit on the toilet, then pull out a copy of the Qu’ran and start reading it whilst he takes a shit. There should be a cut to the end of the scene as Jesus has finished taking his shit, and he should then realize there is no toilet paper. Doing the only logical thing, Jesus tears pages out of the Qu’ran to wipe his arse with, then flushes them down the toilet. Just as they pass into the U-Bend, and Jesus has pulled his trousers up, the door to the bathroom should fly open and Allah should walk in screaming “YOU DARE DESECRATE THE QU’RAN, INFIDEL?!?!?”. Jesus should then shout “FUCK YOU ALLAH” and set him on fire using a nearby can of hairspray and his lighter. Allah should jump out the window on fire, screaming, and fall 2 stories into the garden below. Jesus should then sit back on the toilet, satisfied with a job well done, before lighting up a crack pipe and having a wank. Put this on YouTube and I guarantee that within a day you’ll either have been beheaded, or will be the owner of a mint condition classic Jaguar.


Get yourself a police scanner, and wait for anything to come across the radio about sex assaults in your area. When one does happen, race to the scene of the incident, and await the media. When the reporters arrive, act like you were there the whole time and saw everything. When they interview you, start with generic comments about the kind of day you had, then say “but to be honest, I think most rape victims bring it on themselves. I mean, all these girls go around dressed like sluts, then go crying to the police when they get raped? Please. They brought it on themselves by dressing like tramps in the first place. Thank you.” Then walk off. When this airs, there will be outrage, and you will receive threats from a lot of people. When you are interviewed about how you feel in relation to the threats, complain that “it’s only the whores who are complaining, because they know deep down that I’m right”. Publicly commission a famous artist to paint an impression of Richard Speck raping 7 nurses entitled ‘The Whores get what they deserve!’ and tell the press you intend to offer it to the King of Uganda as a gift from the British people. Then say that maybe if Ugandans followed your advice, it would stop the spread of HIV, because only whores can carry the disease, and men who kill them should be honoured as heroes. This will probably see you shot by a lesbian who wears organic sweaters, but could easily bag you a Mercedes S-Class if you time it just right.


Buy a bunch of T-shirts from Westboro Baptist Church, and start a rally in your local town shouting about how “Homo sex is sin”. Don’t even try to find a reference to this in the Bible, and do not apply any logic to what you are saying – if anyone comes at you with a logical argument for why your statements don’t make sense, just shout louder until they give up. Tell the media you are standing up for what is right, and that you want your children to grow up in a future free from Sodomy. Boycott movies such as Brokeback Mountain, Top Gun and Exit Wounds, saying they promote the ‘fag agenda’, and start using terms like ‘fag enabler’ despite them being kinda nonsensical. Threaten to boycott a soldier’s funeral, then when you are told to fuck off, whine to the press about how they are breaching your right to free speech, and claim that in response to this, you are going to burn every copy of the Gay Times in existence. When this is met by an uninterested response of “yeah, whatever”, threaten to start burning gay people at the stake as well. This could well land you enough time in prison showers for you to honestly start thinking being gay is a bad thing, but if you get lucky, you may just get away with a pay-off in the league of a mint condition Lancia Delta.


Call into a radio show on criminology (or economics), and tell the guest speaker that the easiest way to reduce crime in this country would be to make black people illegal. When asked what you could possibly mean by that sentence, tell him that you mean you think being black should be an offense in and of itself, because they are all criminals, and should therefore be locked up. When other callers start complaining about you, calling you “bigoted” or “fascist”, respond by pulling statistics out of you arse stating that more murders occur at KFC restaurants than at any other location in the country. Do not elaborate on this, it seems more racist if you just leave it at that. Invite Nick Griffin to appear in a podcast with you, and lambast him for not being tough enough on black criminals. No matter what he says, upstage him in racistness and ignorance (for example, be ignorant of the fact that racistness isn’t really a word). Example:

Griffin: Well, of course, we want to kick all the immigrants out of our country.

You: Why, so they can flood other respectable white countries like Germany??? You sound like a nigger-enabler to me, Griffin. Are you sure you didn’t vote for Obama?

Griffin: Uh, Obama’s the American President?

You: So, you helped a half breed gain access to the nuclear arsenal of the most powerful nation on Earth? My God, let’s hope his white half can keep his nigger-half in check, otherwise may God have mercy on us all!

After building up as much publicity as you reasonably can, reveal to the press that you intend to run as MP in your area. At your first actual press conference, state “Well, of course, those niggers in Zimbabwe got one thing right: dissenters must be butchered with machete’s!”. Make sure whenever you are seen after this date, you are holding a worryingly blood-stained machete, and tell people that when you get into power, “hunting season will be open”. You may be lynched by black people or anti-fascists, which would kind of prove you had a point (even though you were just putting it on, of course), but it’s far more likely the secret service will send someone to kill you and make it look like a suicide, just like they did with Dr David Kelly. However, there is a very small chance the Government will be willing to negotiate with you, and if they are, you’re sure to get at least an Aston Martin DB5!


Write this fucking article and not get killed. Seriously, I deserve a fucking Bugatti Veyron MkII for this shit – I did not realize I even had the mental capacity to think of shit this offensive! God, I need help.

Ok, so I've insulted Jews, Christans, Muslims, Homosexuals, Black People, Women, Immigrants in General, and used the term "retarded" in a derogatory manner, as I must be retarded to have posted this online. I think my work here is done...


The Voice From the Pillow is just a character created for the purposes of humour, and in no way reflects my actual opinions whatsoever. I swear to God! (I call him a cunt).

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Steven Seagal Against the Dark Review (Text)

So far this month, this Blog has been viewed a grand total of 1,346 times. The most viewed article I have written, by far, still remains the review I did of the Steven Seagal Legacy DVD Boxset, with an incredible 697 page views. Hell, just look at the keywords searched that most often link people to the site, and you start to see a clear pattern emerge:

Seagal is still as popular as ever. Look at those search results – it’s as though nearly everyone who visits this site comes here because they wanted to see something Seagal related! In light of this, and the fact that despite how hard I try, an article I wrote way back in April is still getting countless more views than any of my newer stuff, I have decided to dedicate another review to the Seagal fanboys out there. This one’s for you, guys!


Against the Dark is a straight-to-DVD Seagal vampire horror movie which was released last year, and it only has a rating of 3.4 on IMDB. Then again, given they have The Dark Knight ranked as being the 11th best film ever, and Inception having the same score as Godfather Part 2, I think we can take the rating on there with a pinch of salt.

Obviously, this was filmed with a very low budget. That goes without saying. The budget is listed on IMDB as being $9 million, and you can bet at least $2 million of that was Seagal’s salary. But, with that in mind, I was pleasantly surprised with this movie, and I’ll tell you why.

First off, whilst the movie was advertised as being a vampire film, I suspect that you would get the most benefit from this if you viewed it as more of a zombie film, because this is essentially what it is. It starts with an explanation of how the “infection” spread, and sets up the apocalyptic backdrop to the movie, in which small groups of survivors are forced to hold out against hordes of the creatures. In fact, as far as I can tell, the only reason the creatures are referred to as Vampires rather than Zombies in the advertising is because they can’t go out in the sunlight. So, in order to get the full benefit of this film, watch it as though it is a low budget zombie film. If you do this, and if you’re into that style of film, then I think you’ll probably enjoy it a lot more than you would otherwise.

With this in mind, then, the movie unfolds really nicely. It’s a stereotypical zombie flick in terms of plot, with a couple of groups of survivors banding together inside a hospital to get medicine, and make it out before the generators run out of power, and it is relatively suspenseful throughout. Obviously, there are bits which make you cringe a little; poor dialogue or acting, an unrealistic plot turn, but for the most part it is very enjoyable, and much better than some far bigger budget movies. I am thinking of one in specific here. A movie which IMDB gives a rating of 7.1, but which I felt was inferior to Against the Dark. I am, of course, talking about the Will Smith extravaganza, I Am Legend.

You see, in my opinion, Against the Dark is essentially what I Am Legend SHOULD have been. From the very start, we see that the zombie/mutant/vampire creatures show signs of intelligence. We see one cut the throat of a human victim she has strung-up, upside down, and collect the blood in a cup, from which she drinks. This use of tools, and demonstrations of intelligence become more and more apparent throughout the movie, until we realize that the creatures can think and speak, just as humans do. One of the characters in the film even says “if we’re the only ones left, and everyone else is infected, then we’re the monsters now”. For those of you who have read the book I Am Legend, you’ll realize that this was the entire point of the story: The title refers to the fact that he is the legend in their stories, the monster who kidnaps their children, their friends, and experiments on them. The film I Am Legend completely fucked this up, and gave it a generic “hero” ending, and that is why I would rank Against the Dark as the superior film; it is the film I Am Legend was meant to be, before Hollywood fucked it up, as they so often do.

Too right.

There is no doubt in my mind that some people will see this as a bad thing – the movie stole the most significant part of its plot from elsewhere. But to be honest with you, I’m glad. Someone had to do the basic premise of I Am Legend justice, and if it couldn’t be done with a $150 million budget, I’m glad someone could do it on $9 million.

On top of that, I personally enjoyed the effects in Against the Dark a lot more than I did I Am Legend. The reason for this is simple; they looked a lot more convincing. Why? Make-up, prosthetics, and buckets of fake blood. Against the Dark does everything old-school. In total, I think there were about 10 digital effects shots in the whole movie, and 9 of them came right at the end. I Am Legend, on the other hand, relied too much on digital effects, which led to creatures which were about as realistic as, and very reminiscent of, the mummies in “The Mummy” (Brendan Fraser version), which cost 100 times as much as the ones in Against the Dark. Again, some people will probably complain about how essentially the monsters in this were just “extras running around with fake teeth in, and fake blood all over them”. I would just like to say that I much prefer this to creating the creatures digitally, and I think we need to go back to this old-school style film making. As I said in my review of The Dark Knight, digital effects just aren’t as convincing as make-up effects. Besides, I’m perfectly happy to watch Romero’s original Dawn of the Dead, and the zombies in that are far less realistic looking than they are in this, so no complaints from me on the effects front!

Old-School effects are clearly the best.

Whilst the characters aren’t exactly brilliantly written; you have the typical overly scared woman, the slightly over-confident kid, the hard man, the stoner, the guy who doesn’t want to be a hero but total will end up being one, and a slightly less scared woman, they all work quite well together, and most of the interactions seem relatively realistic, if a little forced. The acting isn’t brilliant, but then, what do you expect on a low budget horror flick? The last truly decent low budget film to come out was probably SAW, and Monica Potter was absolutely shit in that. Cringe-inducingly bad. Yet we were still able to look past it, and appreciate the story. No-one in this film is as bad at acting as Monica Potter, despite the fact the most famous person in this other than Seagal is Keith David. Oh, you don’t know who he is? He was the black cop running the negotiations in Transporter 2, and he does a load of voices for video games. Honestly, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again; how the fuck does Monica Potter get work? She’s shit!

"I'm sure some people would say the same about Seagal!" "Yeah, pussies."

Other than Keith David, the only familiar non-Seagal face in this movie is Danny Midwinter, who turns up on British TV every now and then (he was in Lewis, and I have a feeling he may have been in Doctor Who as well, but can’t be sure). But regardless of how unknown most of the actors are, they perform admirably, and for the most part their performances are fairly believable.

The direction in the movie’s pretty good as well. Quite a few of the shots are clearly done with a long lens, so we get some cool shots where the focus will shift, and there are some fairly inventive shots as well; looking in mirrors, then panning round to follow the characters round a corner, etc.

But, of course, what you really paid to see is the ACTION:

Holy Shit - Seagal's in Machete??? Why wasn't I told? I know what I have to go and see next!

Just as a warning from the get-go: Seagal isn’t in this film that much. The movie mainly focuses on the survivors trying to escape from the hospital, whereas Seagal plays a “hunter” trying to get in and kill any infected he finds. Still, it cuts to Seagal often enough that you feel it is still a Seagal film, even though he’s not the lead, and when he is on screen, the action’s usually pretty good.

Though obviously not THIS good...

Although there’s not much Aikido shown in the movie; Seagal only goes hand-to-hand right near the end, there are plenty of scenes of Seagal and his pals cutting swathes through hordes of infected with their samurai swords and knives. There are some pretty badass moments involving Tanoai Reed, who looks a bit like The Rock (in so far as I'm fairly sure he's Samoan), and apparently played the bouncer at the Midnite club in Constantine. My favourite of these happens near the start where he puts his hands through the glass in a window, grabs an infected, and pulls his head, neck and upper-torso through the window space, before sticking a knife in his chest, then snapping his neck. It looks exactly like the sort of thing Sam Fisher would do in one of the later Splinter Cell games, and is fucking Bitchin’! The scenes where Seagal gets his shotgun out also had me cheering, too.

He certainly looks better with a shotgun than a guitar, THAT'S for sure.

On the subject of Seagal, it should be noted that, as with Attack Force, he did not return to do the ADR voice recordings after the movie was wrapped, so is dubbed in a couple of scenes, mostly the ones where you can’t see him speak. However, unlike Attack Force, you can’t tell it isn’t him in this film (his character hardly speaks, being a badass hunter, and his voice has changed so much anyway you just kind of accept the differences without thinking about it).

That’s about all I can say about the movie, really. There are a couple of good twists where you are expecting one thing to happen, then something different does, and not to ruin too much, but the scenes with the French Doctor in are creepy as shit, and add another layer to the film, making it more than just a zombie-flick. Some of the choice in editing bothered me a little, for example cutting to gore-shots where they weren’t really necessary, but other than that, I really quite enjoyed this movie.

If you’re into Seagal-style action films and low-budget zombie flicks, then this film is definitely for you. Or, if you were upset the book I Am Legend was ruined by the film, why not watch this and see what could have been? It doesn’t have the loneliness and the journey through the human mind the Will Smith version did, but at least it’s got the right ending. Enjoy!



3 Stars

Not amazing, but good fun, and great for a cheesy low budget horror. Hell, great for a low budget Seagal film to - and more fun to watch than a lot of Blockbusters to have come out recently. I wouldn't say I prefer this to the Saw movies, but i would definitely recommend it over The Hurt Locker, Iron Man 2, and so on. But then, I'm a Seagal fan - we're as bad as furries when it comes to defending our hobby - so don't just take my advice, do what you think is best for you!


For more Seagal-related Goodness, be sure to check back in the next time I raid the movie bargain bin at ASDA.

Tuesday, 19 October 2010

How to Get That One Girl - A Guide to Stalking (Text)

We’ve all got that girl we’d do anything to spend time with. A work colleague, an Ex-Girlfriend, that cute girl from the coffee shop who totally held your hand when she gave you your change. Hell, someone out there probably even fancies Tulisa from N-DUBS (*cough* PAUL *cough*). The point is, we all have these little obsessions, but often cannot do anything about it. Well thanks to me, Voice From the Pillow, LLB, now you can – with this simple step-by-step guide!

Voice From the Pillow: My Guide to Stalking like a Pro!

"What do you mean rape face?"

Tip 1:

Make sure the object of your affections is, in fact, real. We’ve all seen that video on Efukt of Chris Chan fucking an anime character sex pillow in the missionary position whilst screaming “Julie”, so don’t even pretend you haven’t. The point is, Chris was clearly under the impression that the person he was sending this video to was an actual human female named Julie who was into that kind of thing (that should have been the first giveaway, really. The fact that he already fell for the whole “Clyde Cash, Guido extraordinaire” thing being the second), but instead sent it to what is commonly referred to as a “troll” or “/b/fag”, who then proceeded to upload it. So, before you even consider beginning a stalking regime, be sure the object of your desires is a tangible being, not a creep who for some reason wants a guy with aspergers to send him a video of himself fucking a pillow. If you find yourself in that situation, you are unfortunately on the wrong end of the stalking process, and need to rethink your tactics.

Whilst we’re on the subject, make sure it’s not a character you’re in love with, but an actual person. I once had a friend who was infatuated with Madonna in the “Just Like a Prayer” video, but when he finally went to see her on the “Sweet and Sticky” Tour, actually threw up after realizing that the Granny skeleton shoving it’s crotch in a Homosexual’s face on stage was the true persona (and appearance) of the woman he thought he loved. I also had a similar problem, falling in love with Enrica Villablanca from Splinter Cell Double Agent, and spending every night for 2 months under the impression that I was Sam Fisher. The Doctors at the hospital weren’t too happy with that one, especially when I learnt that my OCP could stop pacemakers (I was later informed, upon my release in August last year, that what I thought was an OCP was, in fact, a taser I had stolen from the security closet, and what I assumed to be pacemakers were, in fact, other people’s hearts. And the person I had assumed to be Emile Dufraisne was, in fact, David Cameron, who had been visiting to show his support for non-custodial sentences, a policy he reversed the very next day, curiously enough). The point is, no matter how sexy a 33 year old brunette PHD student-slash-terrorist may seem, if she’s not real, it’s a waste of time trying to impress her. Plus, if you’re the kind of guy who still hasn’t stopped ripping one of his friends for watching Star Wars porn about 5 years ago, it makes you look like a hypocrite.

Whoa! Too Political!

Tip 2:

I recommend stalking multiple women. Whilst to some of you that may seem like you are being unfaithful, bear in mind that in some cultures, such as in Spain, it is perfectly acceptable for a man to have 7 wives, and 7 mistresses per wife, and 7 cats per mistress. Now that’s a fuckload of cats, even if they aren’t going to St. Ives.

Remember, the more women you stalk, the more likely you are to find one who actually enjoys it. Take me, for example, in November 07, I met this cute little blonde girl outside a bar whilst I was carrying out surveillance on another woman, and rather than stick with my original target, I thought “fuck it, I know where she lives – let’s give Blondie a whirl”, and it fucking worked! She totally let me take her home that night!

You know, after I’d put Roofies in her drink and tased her when she attempted to escape from my car.

Ice Cold, Baby!

But seriously, this technique works every time – hit on as many girls as you can, and eventually you may trick one into coming with you. This works especially well if the woman in question is inebriated. But don’t take my word for it: This technique is actually recommended by Mike “The Situation” Guidoking. So there you have it.

This man makes 'Clyde Cash' jealous. Jus' sayin'.

Tip 3:

Don’t bother with anything too fancy. Remember, stalking isn’t really about getting to know the person better, or having physical interactions with them, it’s about fulfilling a fantasy in your head of what could be. Imagine seeing the most beautiful girl ever, and imagining the two of you getting married and having kids or whatever the hell you’re into. Now imagine that you work up the courage and go speak to her, then it turns out she has a Scouser accent. Boom, a perfectly hot fantasy ruined by a woman opening her Goddamn mouth. This is also known as the Lorraine Bracco effect – if this happens to you, pretty soon the only fantasy you will be able to have about her is the one where you stuff burgers down her throat to prevent her from speaking. Of course, it doesn’t HAVE to be burgers you use…

It could be a hotdog.

I recommend just keeping your distance and photographing subjects you are interested in, unless you are just planning a one night stalking harassment session and don’t see it going any further the next day. But if you are going to be photographing your victims, remember rule one: No flash photography! A perfectly good night’s stalking can be ruined in a split second if you forget to turn your flash off – after all, bushes don’t just flash by themselves, do they? It’s a mistake I’ve made before, believe me…

Tip 4:

Whilst we’re on the subject of rookie mistakes, remember to bear in mind that your judgment isn’t always at its finest when you’re trashed on vodka. Or Drugs for that matter.

“Drugs”, in this instance, includes Cannabis incense sticks.

I’m a great fan of clear-headed stalking. After all, who needs any more intoxication than that of a woman, walking home all alone at night, vulnerable. Just thinking about it makes me feels slightly high. Or is that the PCP I was smoking earlier?

Rodney King supports PCP. Do you part for Racial Justice.

Tip 5:

Baby Steps. I know you’re going to want to go into kidnap and rape fantasies straight off the bat, but trust me, ease off a bit. When you finally become a serial killer a few years from now, you’ll see that your casual stalking days were some of the best of your life. Not only was the anticipation itself so much more exhilarating than the act of mutilation itself will ever be, but not having the police on your back day and night is actually fairly pleasant, regardless of how gangster it is or is not. This is the voice of experience talking here – do you want to be the next Stephen Griffiths? That’s what I thought.

Tip 6:

When you do finally decide you’re ready to progress to serial killing, remember: preparation is king. No-one likes a killer who picks up the odd prostitute and lazily strangles her. Hell, the only reason Gary Ridgeway has any fans is because of the sheer volume he killed. Same with Shipman – if you break a record, no-one gives a fuck about your M.O. But you have to prepare yourself for the fact that you may not make it to “Most Prolific Serial Killer of All Time”, and whilst prostitutes are certainly easier to abduct, and strangling is easily the most efficient way of dispatching them, it’s not very original, and won’t earn you points in the style category.

Imagine serial killing like a game of SSX X-treme Snowboarding ‘Tricky’ – sure, the fastest person wins the race, but you unlock way more features if you come last but do the best tricks. That’s kind of how the serial murder game is. Go on Facebook. Right now. Harold Shipman, the most prolific killer ever, has 58 fans. Ted Bundy has 3,394. For killing a 6th of the number of people. Why? Because brutally killing and eating teenage girls and 20-something college students is far cooler than putting some old people to sleep, that’s why! So, whilst we’re at it, here’s a list of what’s hot, and what’s not:


Killing female law and medicine students – these are supposed to be the smartest girls of their generation, and should definitely know better than to trust strangers. It’s quite an accolade to lure a 20-year-old law student into your car to murder her. Have at them!

Cannibalism – Cannibalism has always been hot. Why do you think Silence of the Lambs was such a popular film? Because some creepy dude got naked to Q Lazarus? NO! Because Lecktor chowed down on his victims, that’s why!

Trademarks – Everyone remembers The Candyman, the Killer Clown – come up with something that people will remember! But bear in mind:


Naming yourself - I know there’s a fine line between coming up with a trademark, and going all-out and naming yourself, but leave the nicknames to the press, ok? You don’t want people to know that you came up with your own name, or they’ll just think it’s plain sad. It gives people the impression that all you care about is being remembered, and that the actual killing part doesn’t honestly interest you. Remember, nobody likes a fame whore. Put simply, would you rather be The Boston Strangler, or Katy Price? That’s what I thought.

Killing pets – now, I know the Trailer Park Boys is an awesome film, and they kill cats and dogs for a living, but bear in mind: you are nowhere near as charismatic as Ricky.

This guy fucking OWNS you.

The main complaint people tend to have about Patrick Bateman in ‘American Psycho’ is that he killed the Homeless Man’s dog. For some reason, people prefer animals to other people, so don’t kill them, or you’ll be hated by everyone other than Satanists. On a side note, killing Satanists is hot, because it’s funny to see them pray to Satan, like in that MillenniuM episode.

Killing Comedy Bloggers – the world needs more free laughs, so leave internet comedy writers and reviewers alone. Luckily, as 99.9% of these are male, it shouldn’t affect you. Unless you’re into dudes, in which case hey, it’s your choice! I’m not going to judge you!

Stick to these rules, and you’ll be fine. Happy stalking, guys!


Before I receive any complaints about posting 3 serial killer articles in a row - it's the run-up to Halloween! Lighten up, will you? This is the only time of year we can fully express our dark sexual fantasies without being ostracised! Except Valentine's Day, which is waaaaay creepier...

Monday, 18 October 2010

The Mystery of the Stolen Lyric - A Voice From the Pillow Adventure! (Text)

It was a day just like any other, I was researching for an article on what various album covers would look like with pictures of Tacos inserted in them, and had just scrolled past an amusing photoshop of Big Black’s Songs About Fucking when I saw it. The cover to Sonic Youth’s “Goo”. I had seen this T-Shirt worn by Indie-kids before, but as I tend to ignore anyone wearing shutter-shades or drain-pipes, had never read the words.

because, seriously, fuck this guy.

But there they were, staring me right in the face, along with a crudely photoshopped image of a taco.

“We killed my parents and hit the road”.

It couldn’t be possible. I had heard these lyrics countless times before, only varied to “killed our parents”, and not spoken by Sonic Youth. Could it really be true? Did Acid Bath really steal that line from Sonic Youth? I couldn’t believe it – and yet here was the proof, staring me right in the face. I’m not that up on Sonic Youth albums, but I knew for a fact that Goo came out before When the Kite String Pops. Could my second favourite stoner sludge Doom-metal band really have stolen from these Indie motherfuckers? There was only one thing to do – I would have to delve into the worlds of both bands, and explore their innermost depths, to discover the truth.

“You Scream, I scream, Everybody Screams for Morphine”

Amazingly, the Taco-editors seem to have the exact same taste in music as I do...

If you wanted to know about the roots of an Acid Bath lyric, the obvious place to go would be to the band’s bassist and founder, Audie Pitre. Unfortunately for me, Pitre had died way back in 1997, at the surprisingly young age of 26. I say surprising, because Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain all made it to 27 before finally succumbing to the effects of the Rock N Roll life style. So, I was instead forced to track down vocalist Dax Riggs, who I found backstage after a Deadboy and the Elephantmen reunion gig.

“Yeah, I stole the lyric. So what?” he said, completely unconcerned with the seriousness of it all.

“But why?” I asked, still unable to comprehend what was happening “Acid Bath is one of the greatest stoner sludge doom metal bands to have ever existed. How could you have stolen your lyrics from a band that fucking Indie kids wear T-Shirts of?”

“Bleed me an Ocean, will ya? It’s just business. You listen to your competition so you can gauge what you’re up against, and cash in on what’s popular. You don’t wanna just release Old Skin all the time. That’s how you end up forgotten, a Dope Fiend strung out on Cheap Vodka, waiting for the arrival of the New Death Sensation, so that you may feel the embrace of the Mortician’s Flame, and rest among the Graveflowers of Venus Blue, as a New Corpse. With Thirteen Fingers. Understand?”

“Uh… sure. But why would you steal a lyric from Sonic Youth? I mean, you guys had so much going for you – do you really want to go down in history as being nothing more than that band who stole lyrics from that T-Shirt the Indie kids like?”

“It was never my choice. I used those lyrics as an Ode of the Paegan, to depict What Color is Death, so that Jezebel could understand the Finger Paintings of the Insane, and see that Dr Seuss is Dead, laying among the Bones of Baby Dolls alongside her, a Dead Girl. Diäb Soulé.”

“Ok, I’m going to be completely honest with you now, I have no idea what the fuck you just said. Is there something wrong with you?”

“The Doctors had me Tranquilized so I could not prevent their Paegan Terrorism Tactics. They’re trying to get The Blue Locust Spawning again!”

Just as I began to reach for the nearest heavy blunt object to defend myself with, in this case one of the massive Dildos from Rammstein’s special edition version of Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da, which happened to be on the table next to me, Riggs’ Deadboy bandmate Tessie Brunet walked in.

“What’s going on here?” asked Tessie, as I attempted to inconspicuously hide the 11inch pink rubber Dildo behind my back. She was kinda hot, and in different circumstances, I imagine me, her, and Ollie Riedel’s Rubber Cock could have had quite a bit of fun.

But I was here to do business, and you can’t let your dick think business. After all, how many cocks have MBAs? Point taken…

“Nothing.” I replied “I’m just asking Dax about some Acid Bath lyrics”.

“Well, you won’t get much out of him” answered Tessie, looking over at Dax in a sympathetic manner “he lost it a few years ago whilst we were on tour. Apparently someone compared us to The White Stripes, and he just couldn’t take being compared to such a pile of wank. They don’t even have a bassist for fuck’s sake! What kind of a band doesn’t have a bassist? Honestly.”

“Uh, you don’t.” I responded, clearly to the disdain of Brunet’s sensibilities.

“WE’VE HAD FOUR FUCKING BASS PLAYERS!” she screamed at me, the anger glowing like a napalm fire in her eyes. “It’s not my fault they keep quitting on us!”

“Ok, ok. My mistake” I said, attempting to cool off the situation so I wouldn’t have to deploy the Dildo that was now hidden up my shirt sleeve “I didn’t mean to insult you, I just wanted to know about this lyric is all.”

“Ok, I guess I may have over-reacted a little” replied Tessie, clearly understating her psychotic reaction to a factual statement “which lyric did you want to know more about?”

“It’s a line from Scream of the Butterfly” I stated, not sure of how much she could help, not being a member of Acid Bath “where Dax sings about how he and his Angel killed their parents, then hit the road.”

“Ah yes, I recall that one” acknowledged Tessie “What do you want to know about it?”

“Well” I said “I just discovered that it’s a line that’s used in a Sonic Youth song which came out before Hymns of the Needle Freak, and I just wanted to know if Acid Bath stole it from them, and if so why? I mean, Acid Bath are way better than some shitty Indie band.”

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT INDIE MUSIC!” Tessie roared, picking up a TV and hurling it at me. I dodged it, and deployed the weapon up my sleeve, which hit her square in the eye. Do chicks like that kind of thing???

“Aaaaargh!” she screamed out in pain as I ran away, kicking myself for forgetting that any band a reviewer compares to The White Stripes is obviously going to be Indie, and not appreciate attacks on the genre. It looked like I was going to have to find another way to get the information I desired. But how?

“Cinderella’s Big Score”

I found Sonic Youth’s hideout in the town of South Jonic, in Maryland. It had taken me 3 days, and 4 fights with Hobos, but I had finally discovered their base of operations. I walked in slowly.

“Hello?” I called, subconsciously putting my hand on the grip of the .45 tucked into the back of my jeans as I did so “anyone here?”

“Who the fuck are you?” came a female voice, and I looked up to see Kim Gordon standing at the top of a flight of stairs. At least, I’m pretty sure it was her. Sonic Youth only have one chick in their band, right?

“I’m a journalist” I lied, figuring it sounded slightly more respectable than saying I was a Blogger, and slightly less creepy than saying I’m an expert in the field of psychopathy and sexual offences, which I kind of am, but not in that way.

“A journalist, huh?” she smiled, walking down the stairs and coming to a rest in front of me. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Well, Ms Gordon” I responded, trying to sound professional “I was interested in knowing the roots of the lyrics you featured on the cover of the Album Goo”.

“Of course” she replied, looking disappointed “that’s all anyone wants to know about. Well, follow me.”

She walked off into the back of the darkened house, into what I presumed was the kitchen. I followed, nervously, wondering what I might discover.

We emerged in a dank utility area, filled with various white goods. As in appliances, not goods that only white people can buy. She took a seat on top of the washing machine, and I was just wondering whether she was going to turn it on and use the vibrations as a masturbation aid when she spoke.

“I suppose you want to know which one of us came up with the line then?” she asked.

“If that’s not too much of a problem?” I responded. She held my gaze, calculating her next move.

“Do you like my Dirty Boots?” She asked, flashing me a glimpse of the black leather fetish boots she was wearing.

“they’re very nice” I lied.

“You can have them, you know?” she said, in a bizarre attempt to apparently buy me off.

“No thanks” I answered “I don’t think they’ll fit me. Now, about the line…”

She sighed, and looked up into my eyes. I was worried she might be trying to read my mind, so averted my gaze slightly to look at the ‘Titanium Expose’ refrigerator magazine sitting nearby.

“We got the idea from Oliver Stone” she said, softly. I rounded on her.

“What?” I said, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“You heard me” she replied “Oliver Stone, the guy who directed Wall Street. He gave us the idea for the story.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible” I stated firmly, becoming agitated. She must be lying. She MUST be.

“Honestly, it’s the truth” she said, getting down from the washing machine, and standing before me once again. “It all happened in the summer of ’89. Stone was in the neighbourhood, celebrating the wrapping of Born on the Fourth of July. We were all getting drunk, and partying, when I realised my kittens, Scooter and Jinx were missing”

“I see…” I said, not really seeing, but showing off the active listening skills I had acquired whilst studying Interviewing and Testimony for my Criminal Psychology Course.

“We looked everywhere for the two of them. After all, it’s not as if they could have just disappeared into thin air like some sort of Disappearer, is it?”

“Quite” I said. Man, I was good at this active listening shit – I was gonna nail that Interviewing and Testimony unit! “Please, continue.”

“Well” she said, getting back to the story “We decided the only place they could have gone was Old Dr Benway’s House, so we crept in, and began to sneak up to the bedroom…”

“We?” I questioned. Honestly, this was so easy to do I couldn’t understand why the police force and Home Office take so long teaching their recruits how to do it.

“Yes, Mildred Pierce and myself” she replied.

“Interesting” I said, not really that interested as I had no idea who the fuck Mildred Pierce was “keep going.”

“Well” she said “We got into the bedroom, and started to look for the kitties, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a man in a Tunic…”

“Uh-huh” I said, thoroughly bored now and contemplating whether or not it would be easier just to shoot her and go interrogate Oliver Stone instead, given she’d named him as an accomplice. After all, at least I know Oliver Stone can tell a good story – fucking Platoon is the shit!

“I screamed ‘Mary-Christ’ and turned to run out of there, when we saw that the man was Tom Cruise!”

“Come again?” I asked, genuinely surprised this time.

“You know, Tom Cruise, the actor!” she said, as though I was a complete and utter moron. “He’s the inventor of the Christian Scientist movement!”

“I’m fairly sure he’s not” I said flippantly “but feel free to continue.”

“Well, he stood up like one of those Tuff Boyz, and started to walk towards me, when Oliver Stone walked in, drunk as a skunk, and started screaming about how he was going to make Tom Cruise and I the star of his next picture, which was going to be about-”

“CHARLES STARKWEATHER AND CARIL FUGATE!” I screamed, finally getting it!

“No, Mickey and Mallory Knox” she said “apparently, he was going to use his telepathic abilities to implant the idea into Quentin Tarantino’s brain, and then buy the script off him once it was written. I have no idea why.”

“Yes!” I said, excited as a paedophile watching a young boy through binoculars on Christmas morning “and Natural Born Killers was based on the case of Charles Starkweather and Caril Fugate! I may just have solved this thing!”

“Well, I hope that’s all you need” said Kim, “Because that’s all I know… Right Now”.

“I think that is all I need!” I said, turning to walk out of the door “thanks for the help!”

“Don’t mention it” she said, getting back up on the washing machine and turning it on. “Sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

“Sorry” I responded “But I have a case to solve!”

And with that, I ran out of the building, the orgasmic screams of Kim Gordon following me all the way down the road to the nearest Taxi rank, where I beat another hobo into unconsciousness just to show the cab drivers I wasn’t to be fucked with. This was going to be a good day.

"Lights out tonight, trouble in the heartland"

It was snowing when I got to Lansing, Michigan, Fugate’s current home city. Starkweather had been executed for his crimes in 1959, so she was my last hope. I walked up medical centre Wikipedia informed me she now worked in, and walked up to the reception desk.

“Ms Fugate, please” I stated. The receptionist gave me an odd look.

“You’re not one of them weirdos who is interested in them murders she was accused of way back, are you?” she enquired.

“Of course not” I responded curtly “I was always more of a Bundy man myself”.

“Hmmm…” she seemed to be deliberating whether or not I was to be trusted “ok, then – you have the face of an honest man.”

“I know” I said “it wasn’t easy slicing it off him, though!” I laughed. She gave me a cold, hard stare.

“Caril’s in the staff room” she said. “The code’s 8653. Do you want me to write that down?”

“I think I’ve played enough Splinter Cell to remember a 4 digit door code” I responded, and walked off down the corridor.

I got into the staff room after my 51st attempt at the code. Which I thought was very impressive, given a 4 digit lock has 10,000 different combinations, or something. I walked in, and saw her sitting at the nearest table. I gotta say, she was pretty fucking hot for a 77 year old woman.

“Caril?” I asked as I approached her.

“Yes?” She said, looking up.

“I’m a Journalist, I’m investigating some lyrics I believe were based around you and Charles Starkweather. Would it be ok for me to have a moment of your time?” I asked.

“Can’t you just Google it?” She said.

“… I suppose” I responded, shocked I was unable to think of this earlier. “Do you have WiFi here?”

“Sure” she replied. And with that, I took out my laptop, and logged into Google. I searched for ‘Goo album cover lyrics’ on Google. I was linked to the Wikipedia page, which told me the truth.

“So…” I said “The picture is of the witnesses in the Moors Murders case”

“and my guess would be that the quote is somehow related to that case” she said.

“yes, that would be my guess too.” I said “back to England it is!”

And with that, I dived out the window, and ran to the nearest airport. There was a little trouble at customs, because apparently seeing an out-of-breath guy running through the terminal screaming about the Moors Murders isn’t normal in America, fucking shit country that it is.


I ran into Broadmoor penitentiary a mere 4 hours after my flight landed at Gatwick international (how’s that for timing?) and went straight up to the nearest guard.

“I need to speak to Ian Brady” I panted “Please, it’s urgent!”

“Uh, Brady’s in Ashworth Hospital” the guard replied “you know, in Merseyside”.

“I thought Merseyside was in Yorkshire?” I asked, surely there couldn’t be more than one high security prison/hospital in the same county.

“No, you’re thinking of Teesside” said the guard. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way we can get you to see Brady. We have the Crossbow Cannibal, if you’re interested?”

“What, that tosser who picked his own nickname?” I asked rhetorically “can I tell him that real men let the media name them, and don’t try and come up with their own nickname they want people to remember them by?”

“Uh, sure, I guess” replied the guard, and he took me over to a cell marked ‘Stephen Griffiths’.

“What’s he doing in Broadmoor by the way?” I asked the guard quietly as we approached the cell “Surely he shouldn’t be in here unless he’s been convicted?”

“True” replied the guard “But he’s a mecha-fag. Wakefield doesn’t have time for mecha-fags, so they sent him here.”

“I see. So a Mecha fag is a Muslim homosexual or something, right?”

“That would be Mecca-Fag” said the guard “and no, he’s just a douche. Here you are.”

The guard dropped me off by the cell.

“Who are you?” Came the voice from inside.

“Stephen Griffiths?” I asked.

“That’s right” he said, coming over to the door “who are you?”

“I’m a journalist” I lied for the third time “and I just wanted to say what an honour it is to meet Pepsi Sutcliffe”.

“What?” he said in surprise “What did you call me?”

“Pepsi Sutcliffe. You know, because Peter Sutcliffe is the Coca Cola of Yorkshire based serial killings, and you’re just a poor imitation of him.”

“You son of a-”

Griffiths ran at the bars, and went headfirst into them, cracking his skull open on one of the bars, and fell slumped to the floor. The Guard turned up again.

“I think you should leave” he said.

“But I didn’t even get to rant at him about what a gay name ‘The Crossbow cannibal’ is yet!” I said, disappointed.

“Tell you what” said the guard “If he wakes up, how about I tell him for you?”

And with that, I left Broadmoor with a smile on my face. I may not have discovered the true origins of the lyrics written on the cover of Goo, but I managed to screw with someone who has mental difficulties. And in the end, is that not what made this country great to begin with?

"Most Likely You'll go you way, and I'll go Mine"

In a twist of fate, it seems Ian Brady heard about my plight, and sent me a confession admitting the origins of the lyrics a few days later. Apparently, he and Myra Hindley had written the lyrics together on a napkin during their trial, and the napkin had then been sold at auction to the highest bidder, a collector named “Stephen King”. When researching his project “Mickey and Mallory Knox, the totally bitching killers who are totally not the characters from Badlands”, Oliver Stone had contacted Stephen King about the Starkweather case, knowing King had followed it intensely throughout his childhood, and at a meeting between the two of them had stolen the napkin believing it to be magic. He had later passed the lyrics on to Kim Gordon in the attic with Tom Cruise, although the whereabouts of the napkin itself is unknown. In an Ironic twist, it turns out Ian Brady hates Hipsters, and swears on his release that he will murder everyone on the planet who owns a copy of Juno. If you want to join the campaign for Brady’s release, there is a link at the bottom of the page. I’m glad I could solve the case of the missing lyric, and prove once and for all that Acid Bath stole that line from a hardcore source, and not some hipster piece of shit. I think a child murderer qualifies as being Hardcore, don’t you?

The King of Hardcore agrees.


Stephen Griffiths goes on trial on November 16th. Please do not reprint this article until after the trial comes to an end or he may claim it infringes on his Article 6 rights under the European Convention of Human Rights, but if he does, he’s a total Mecha-fag.

Sunday, 17 October 2010

Changeling Review (Text)

I had wanted my first Blog post in over a month to be something a bit special. I figured I’d gone so long without posting that I should bring out the big guns for my folly back into the world of the internet, especially considering the fact that I missed the site’s 1 year anniversary completely. Sure, I don’t have many fans, in fact, I’m not entirely certain anyone is actually going to read this. But, I still enjoy writing these reviews and bizarre snippets, and I do appreciate the little feedback I get. So, in order to kick start the second year of Voice From the Pillow, I had intended to review the new Rhys Ifans movie, Mr. Nice.

This would have happened last Tuesday, were it not for the fact that my local cinemas do not seem to be showing it, just as happened with The Bad Lieutenant when I wanted to see that. In fact, the only cinema within an hour’s driving time of me that was showing the film happened to be in a city currently undergoing massive reconstruction works to the roads, and I got completely lost in the diversions and was unable to find the cinema, so unfortunately, there will be no review of Mr. Nice.

Instead, I hope this review will suffice, and I hope you continue to visit the site for yet another year. Maybe we’ll even get some more fans this time round. Here’s to hoping!


I don’t know why, but for some reason I had a very different idea in my head of what Changeling would be than it actually was. In some ways, I think I must have mistaken it for A Mighty Heart; Jolie’s other movie about a Grieving Woman trying to find out what happened to a loved one.

I knew the basic story was that Angelina Jolie’s son goes missing, and is replaced by a different boy, but for some reason I thought the entire film was focused on her trying to convince the media that this boy was not hers, and showed the breakdown of her sanity as she was constantly ignored, and told she got her boy back. Whilst this is a part of the plot of Changeling, it is not the entire story, and what I’m about to tell you will undoubtedly change your view of the film if you are unaware of what actually happens, so spoiler ahead.

Changeling is all about a serial killer. It is a serial killer movie through-and-through.

Whilst the first half of the movie unfolded exactly as I expected it would, we were soon introduced to the real story, that of Gordon Stewart Northcott, one of the youngest serial killers ever to be apprehended, and the perpetrator of the Wineville Chicken Coop Murders.

Having not been aware that this was the focus of the movie, this came as a rather pleasant surprise to me, because although the first half of the film had been executed perfectly by the Director (Clint motherfucking Eastwood, which I hadn’t realised right up until the end credits, butprobably should have guessed), I wasn’t really sure where it could possibly go after Jolie’s character, Christine Collins, was institutionalized, and had feared that the second half of the film would be drawn out, and boring. Instead, we had a classic switch in the tone of the story, as we went from a movie about a woman whose child was missing, to a movie about a serial killer abducting and murdering young boys.

My mother, who had been the one who picked up the film, assuming that it was just about a woman coming to terms with her son disappearing, did not seem to enjoy this turn of events terribly, because although not too explicit in the level of violence shown, it was still somewhat graphic. But I really enjoyed it.

As you probably already know, I’m rather partial to movies about serial killers, and love some of the portrayals you see of them. In fact, I watched a good few of them over the summer, as they seemed to be showing them fairly regularly on the Horror Channel. Whilst I love some of the movies about fictional killers, such as American Psycho or Silence of the Lambs (both of which feature killers based around Ted Bundy – though different aspects of his personality in each case), I really enjoy watching the “True Horror” movies, which tend to be on a much lower budget, and are usually made for TV, because I find it so much more interesting to watch a portrayal of an actual killer. Seeing a big budget movie about a serial killer, then, was somewhat of a pleasant surprise, because it meant they had the budget and skill to make a movie as spectacular as the fictional ones, such as Silence of the Lambs, whilst at the same time have a genuine character study of an actual killer, adding another layer of fascination to the story. And you know what? They achieved it.

Some of the serial killer films I have seen recently have been hardly based in fact at all, and are pretty lackluster, especially if you know the story already and are watching it being butchered, as happened with the Ed Kemper movie. Others I thought were fascinating, and felt would have been incredible if they had just been made on a big enough budget, with the right Director in charge, such as Bundy, or The Riverman (as in those are two of the movies I enjoyed, I am not advocating Gary Ridgeway be released in order to direct horror movies. Although…). It was great, then, to see an interesting story, handled competently without differing too much from the actual events, and made on a big budget.

The story behind Gordon Stewart Northcott is an incredible one, and even though Eastwood does not delve too deeply into his world, we still get a good taste of it. In fact, it is in a large part due to the fact that the film is somewhat removed from Northcott’s story that it is so interesting. We’ve had countless movies in which the serial killer was the lead and which didn’t focus on the victims too much, and none of them will ever top American Psycho for its sheer brilliance in bringing such a character to life. On the flip side, we have also had a lot of movies based on the actual victims of serial killers, or on Government agents trying to stop them. What we have not had before is what Changeling delivers, a movie about a serial killer, told from the point of the unaware family of one of the victims, and later filled in by the killer’s somewhat accomplice and cousin, as he confesses everything to the police in a fit of guilt.

The fact that we are never told Northcott’s motivation for the murders makes the movie all the more brilliant, because it keeps the fascination in the character alive. If we were told at the very start that he was molested at a young age and that he was simply re-enacting his hurt on the young boys he kidnapped, then it would have taken away a lot of the intrigue in the character which Eastwood creates by keeping his distance from events in Northcott’s past. I suppose this is also the reason why it is never explicitly stated in the film the Northcott molested and tortured his victims, because implying it not only increases the level of horror as opposed to showing the events, but also keeps us that little more detatched from events, so we can see things more through Christine Collins’ eyes than we would if we had the full facts of the killings, as we would do were the movie from Northcott’s point of view.

The actor playing Northcott, Jason Butler Harner, also turns in what must be the performance of a life time, nailing the role of psychopath on the head. He goes from superficially charming with a grandiose sense of self worth to a nervous, depressed wreck and back again with seeming ease, and really portrays the traits of a psychopath effectively. Aside from his execution scene (which I shan't go into in this review, except to say it is outstanding and I don't want to spoil it), probably the best moment Harner delivers is when he is first captured, and led away by Canadian police. When a reporter asks him how he managed to evade capture, he jokingly says “well, clearly I didn’t”, clearly showing both the lack of remorse and the glibness you would expect from such a character, and yet moments later he angrily yet still charmingly states “no comment” when asked about the boys he murdered. Few actors can pull off that level of character acting, but Harner nailed it, and let’s hope it lands him some other decent roles in future.

Whilst we’re on the acting, I should probably mention that Angelina Jolie turns in a fantastic performance as the grieving mother, and can play paranoid, angry and depressed emotional states very effectively. My one and only complaint was the token moment where she is crying and you see a tear just roll down one of her cheeks uninterrupted, which movie producers seem to think is how people cry. My only problem with this is that it looks unrealistic. People tend to either break down crying and make a lot of noise, or they tend to go into a state of shock and just not react. I have never seen a case in real life of someone crying how Jolie does in this movie. But then, I suppose I’ve never seen someone go through what she had in real life.

Also whilst we’re on the acting, the fact that the police captain seemed to switch from being American to Irish unnerved me slightly, but it wasn’t as though his performance was awful, I would have just liked it to have been a bit more convincing. Other than the accent, I felt the actor did very well portraying the role, and most of the acting across the board was very impressive.

One thing I would have liked to have seen the movie do is mention how Northcott’s mother was involved in the murders, and that although Northcott himself could not be proved to have killed Walter Collins, his mother pleaded guilty to the killing and served 12 years of a life sentence for doing so. I think this would have tied things up slightly better towards the end, but with the confession from the boy who escaped still serving as a small glimmer of hope in spite of it.

Overall, I was very impressed with the film. Eastwood went for the classic neutral tones cinematography that we see on almost all movies set in that time period, and it really worked in this instance. His directing choices all seemed to be perfect, and the actors all turned in good performances. I really felt they did the story justice, and it was a pleasant surprise seeing how it evolved across the course of the movie. Though, of course, I should note that when Northcott is referred to as a serial killer in the film, it is factually incorrect because such murderers were not referred to as “serial killers” until much later on.



4 stars

A very clever film, showing the damaged caused by a serial killer to the mother of one of his victims, this movie is definitely worth watching, and I would highly recommend it. Eastwood is on top form once again, and this is certainly a film you won’t want to miss. It does get a little slow towards the end, but still maintains the levels of excellence it displays throughout.

Now I'm just waiting for Church of Misery to do a song about Northcott...


Voice is currently taking a Masters degree course in Criminology and Criminal Psychology, and is studying Psychopathy and Sex Offending at this time. So yeah, I know my shit, bitches!

Fucking Cracked, Always Trying to rip a Brother Off...

As you all know, when stuck for ideas and desperate to get an article out so I can remain vaguely relevant, I steal my ideas from the guys over at Cracked. Such as this one, or this one. Hell, even this one is partially influenced by Robert Brockway's writing style (though to be fair, he totally stole it from Hunter S. Thompson). Now, I know this may not seem entirely ethical, but they're one of the biggest fucking comedy websites out there, they can totally afford to have their shit stolen. I, however, cannot, and this is what seems to be happening.

I was first alerted to the situation when I noticed an article on Cracked which described how the effect of being in love is exactly the same as being on drugs. Sound familiar? And today I noticed that Dr Mr Cody, the smug bastard, is discussing his failed attempts to start an internet meme. Again, sound familiar? It's like the editors finally had enough of my stealing their ideas or video clips, and decided to come onto my Blog and steal mine. How is that fair?

Oh, and before you say anything, they totally know this Blog exists because finally I come at the top of search results if you type "Voice From the Pillow" into Google, which they totally must have done, cos it's gotta be one of the most searched phrases ever.

I'm onto you, Cracked, so watch it.