Forwarding address

Farewell, High Sheriffs of Google — you brainless rat bastards.

Coiled Pleasures is now at WordPress, with a bounty of bazongas, brownies and buttondowns.

http://coiledpleasures.com/

Attack of the High Sheriffs

Joe Bob Briggs used to refer to the forces of darkness at the Dallas Times-Herald as the High Sheriffs, and while that paper is long gone, the impulse to be a high sheriff is stronger than ever.

Witness this announcement I just received from Google:

In the coming weeks, we'll no longer allow blogs that contain sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video. We'll still allow nudity presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or where there are other substantial benefits to the public from not taking action on the content.

The new policy will go into effect on the 23rd of March 2015. After this policy goes into effect, Google will restrict access to any blog identified as being in violation of our revised policy. No content will be deleted, but only blog authors and those with whom they have expressly shared the blog will be able to see the content we've made private.

Our records indicate that your account may be affected by this policy change. Please refrain from creating new content that would violate this policy. Also, we ask that you make any necessary changes to your existing blog to comply as soon as possible, so that you won't experience any interruptions in service.

Now, while it is true that I frequently post screen shots from films, and those screen shots often contain some degree of nekkidity, it is always presented in a highly artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific context — so much so I want to puke.

So some busybody years ago decided to flag "Coiled Pleasures," and now this. 

Well, fuck'em. See that, Google? Piss off, you brainless rodents. I'll take this show elsewhere.



This is okay:

This is not:

Hi, I'm Fat Slob. How Do You Do?

So it's been snowy and cold and generally miserable this winter. Plus I am about 20 pounds overweight, so three-quarters of my stuff doesn't fit.

This does: a two button Brooks sack jacket, Lands End cotton sweater vest, J. Press red uni stripe oxford and tie, LL Bean lined Chinos, Hanna cap and Allen Edmonds Eagle River boots with a Vibram lug sole. And a J. Press lambswool scarf (which they are giving away at the moment, by the way).

Okay, that's it. Off to the gym! And then to see "50 Shades of Grey"! Gee whiz!

Empty "Canyons"

Paul Schrader's "The Canyons" (written by Bret Easton Ellis) is a tedious piece of crap about bored decadent Hollywood people of marginal talent and interest.

Blah blah blah...

A self-portrait, in other words.

It has some nekkidity, but some of it involved Lindsay Lohan, who really needs to get her act together.

It also has a real life Porn Star, James Deen. He talks too much.

As does everybody in this clunker.

...blah blah blah blah...

You can't make an exploitation film, or even a daring, boundary-pushing flick, and bore the crap out of the audience.

A Fast-Forward Special -- to the dogpile scene, which is icky.

...blah blah blah blah oh let's get nekkid blah blah blah blah.

Zero coils. A complete waste of time.

Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead — Now With Improved Glop-O-Rama

You won't believe how the Nazi zombies gassed up the tank.

Not content with the undoubted triumph of 2010's "Dead Snow," Tommy Wirkola has made a sequel. "Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead."

This title is a little misleading, because the "red" refers to some Red Army soldier-zombies who are just as dead as the Nazi zombies.

However, we are dealing with a generation that thinks the Berlin Wall was an album by some old guys called Pink Floyd. So we must make allowances.

If you recall, in the first flick Martin and his dopey friends went to cabin way the hell out in the woods in Norway and accidentally woke up Nazi commander Herzog and his zombie battalion.

In that one, everybody died, including Martin's girlfriend Sara, who is now called Hanna, but is still dead.

But what we didn't know is that Martin got away, but somehow wound up with Herzog's arm in his SUV.

So when the EMTs found him, they brought along the arm, and the kindly doctor reattached it — to Martin, who had cut his own arm off with a chain saw when he was bitten and infected.

Got that?

Well, this arm is capable of all sorts of stuff, including superhuman strength and resurrections.

Martin finds he can do all kinds of neat stuff with his Nazi zombie arm

Now, your Nazi zombies are complex creatures, and rarely do they have a simple agenda.

So Martin thinks they might be satisfied by getting their stupid treasure back, but he is sorely mistaken.

No, they have to finish their original mission, which was to destroy a little town called Tvnkj or something.

There is a whole lot of plot here, and to boil it down a bit, what we wind up with are four teams: the Nazi zombie team, led by Herzog; the Red Army team, led by some big tall zombie; Martin's team, which consists of Martin, the gay guy from the museum, and three nitwits from the US who call themselves The Zombie Squad; and the police, who are only there for comic relief.

Zombie Squad geek poses for photo with his first confirmed kill

The film is in English, which makes it slightly easier to be confused but lacks the Ingmar Bergman atmosphere that made the original so deep and profound.

However, it expands on the original's highly creative use of intestines. I have never seen an intestine used as a gasoline siphon before, and neither have you,  I'll bet.

Wirkola breaks the Glop-O-Meter on this one. Heads, feet, guts, arms all roll. Explosions. Nifty hatchet work. Intestine as garrote, siphon, electrical wire. Necrophilia (implied). Pet zombie. Bad running joke about the language of seagulls. Norwegian cops with Irish accents. No nekkidity (automatic one-coil deduction). Very confusing.

Three coils.

Review: Tacky Fly Box

I've seen these around and bought a couple. I am in the middle of Early January Fly-Fishing Angst Mode, when the only fishable water is about two miles of the West Branch of the Farmington, right where it comes out of the dam, and my idea of a good time is watching Davy Wotton videos while curled up in a blanket.

It's a slender thing, measuring 3/4 inch thick and 3 1/2 x 7 inches in area. It fits into a Fishpond chest pack. You could probably cram three or four in.

There are slots for 168 flies, but unless these flies are tiny and you want to use tweezers to get them in and out, I don't think you'll get every slot filled.

Hard to say how it works until I get out and try it, but I think it will allow me to consolidate all the nymphs in one (or two or three) boxes with a lot less bulk involved.

"Big Tit Zombie" Hits New Exciting Lows (with bonus French phrases)

Takao Nakano's 2010 "Big Tit Zombie" is an unusually stupid and tasteless film and as such zooms to the top of the CACA charts.

It stars Japanese porn queen Sora Aoi, aka Aoi Sora, aka Aoi Sola, and aka a few other names that are all remarkably similar.

She doesn't have especially big tits, either, but le tout ensemble is quite attractive. Especially when wielding a chain saw.

The plot, such as it is, has five strippers working in an unsuccessful club that just happens to be connected by underground passage to a dank dungeon with Cabbage Patch dolls and a well. Oh, and there is a Book of the Dead.

Naturally one of the strippers reads from the Book of the Dead. It is de rigueur in these situations. Otherwise the movie would just be called "Big Tit," or possibly "Big Tits," and where would you be?

Zombies emerge from the well, and hilarity ensues.

What sets this one apart from, say, "Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead" are the sushi scenes (once with sushi, once with entrails).

And where "Zombie Ass" had unusual things erupting from the butt-type area, "Big Tit Zombie" has a fiery...

Uhh.

I can't say it. The area from which the fire explodes is, uh...

Adjacent! That's it. The fire comes from a region of a lady actor's personal body that is adjacent to the butt-type area of the personal b.

The film is also very meta, which can mean anything. In this case it means that the subtitles rarely match the dubbed dialogue, which creates an ever-changing dialectic and existential tension that calls into question the very nature of cinema itself.

(Ha! Top that, dog-ass New York Times!)

It also means the director is shouting things at the actors, and you can see the wires on the tentacle things.

Four breasts (each set twice). Chain saw splitting of zombie, twice. Book of the Dead. Gibberish Latin that's not even Latin. (It's not even close.) Mt. Fuji as subject of subtextual jokes. Amusing zombies. And that fire thing.

Four coils, unreservedly, and a nomination for the next Iron Coil award.