Junkfood Cinema

Junkfood Cinema Podcast

Junkfood Cinema. You’ve heard plenty of cyber banter on the “true classics,” on what’s popular in film now, and about projections for movies yet-to-come. Junkfood Cinema is a shame-free celebration of those films that have managed to slip through the cracks of time; the lost children of the medium.

These are films relegated to mainstream obscurity, and most even erroneously dubbed as “terrible.” To ravenous genre consumers like Brian Salisbury and screenwriter/novelist C. Robert Cargill, there is nothing more satisfying than gorging on cult and exploitation gems with the mad gluttony of a pre-dawn fourth meal.

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; eat it, Mayans! Eat it with cheese! Yes, despite our best efforts, we’ve managed to survive another year and therefore it is once again time, in clear defiance of your best interest or our lawyer’s behests, for the Junkfood Cinema Awards. This year’s Junkies marks the third anniversary…of Film School Rejects’ editors proving monumentally lax in their duties. This year, we’ve rolled up our sleeves (because of the gravy stains) and dug deep into our own 2012  archives to craft a host of new and exciting (read: meaningless) categories for which let’s face it, there could only really have been one winner. And the winners are… …not going to like being associated with this column.

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; there arose such a taco platter. This is the broad-faced, round-bellied bad movie column that mines the lustre of greatness from schlock of even the dimmest merit. We tear open the stinker, throw up its faults, but in those wildly flaunted faults we find a bundle of enjoyment. As if that weren’t enough for all our readers on the nice list, or the naughty list (let’s face it), we then pair the movie with a unseasonably fattening snack food item guaranteed to eventually make you shake when you laugh at our terrible puns. If ever there were a holiday film worthy of being called ho-ho-horrible, it’s the infamous Star Wars Holiday Special. Instead of lamenting on and on about the innumerable woes of this holly jolly abortion, which would require several ticks off your sadvent calendar, it seemed more appropriate to gather everyone around the fire place, as the sugar cookie Pop Tarts roast away, and read you the classic story Twas The Night Of The Star Wars Holiday Special by Verily Ann Author. This is a real book that really exists for good and true but don’t look it up because that’s mean.

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Junkfood Christmas Movies

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; a real kick to the chestnuts. This is the most offensively festive (offestive?) bad movie column on the dingy, loosely strung tinsel garland of the internet. Every week we stumble drunkenly into Schlocka Claus’ stable and mock the lamest reindeer. You know, the one with the red nose…who is also a terrible movie. We should add “a grasp of figurative language” to our Christmas wish list. The absurd means by which we lampoon these absurd movies is made even more absurdly absurd by our synonym-for-absurd love for these movies. When we’re done examining this wildly conflicting relationship, moreso even than the one we have with bacon-wrapped sugarplums, we will offer you, the masochistic reader, a snack food themed to the movie in question. This week, we’ve reached deep into our sack and pulled out something truly naughty. We will now wait while you bleach from your mind the resulting image of that unfortunate phrasing. Vomited? Back? Good. Today’s Christmas offering is so bad, it’s practically its own Grinch. I’m speaking of course about the legendary, two-sizes-too-huge flop that is Santa Claus: The Movie. It’s essentially an origin story for Kris Kringle; Fatman Begins if you will, Silent Knight Rises even if you won’t. It is a titan of terrible, a colossus of crap…the sultan of suck. Wait, is it about Babe Ruth? No. No, definitely Santa Claus. What we’re getting at is, we don’t think you’re ready for this bowl full of jelly. Inspired by […]

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Junkfood Christmas Movies

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; giving fruit cake is tantamount to treason. It’s that time of year again, when we put on ugly sweaters, drunkenly sing carols off-key, and forget how much we hate Aunt Bagatha. What? Who doesn’t have an Aunt Bagatha? For all of me here at Junkfood Cinema, Christmas is a time to suck down as many festively-shaped sugar cookies and assorted pies as humanly possible before slipping into the firm embrace of a ho ho heart attack. And of course, I give myself the gift that keeps on giving: a giant stack of my favorite holiday movies. These movies are often, as you might expect,  terrible, but every once in a while a highly-regarded classic slips in. When this oversight occurs, my baser impulses, the ones that account for my DiMaggio-like twenty-eight year streak as a resident of Santa’s naughty list, take over. I begin to image ways to corrupt said classic films and stuff them back in your stocking as twice-baked/half-baked/bake-me-something-right-now-I’m-hungry treats. Today’s subject, or rather subjects, offer a particularly easy corruption. Director Bob Clark is renowned for making one of the most beloved Christmas movies of all time: A Christmas Story. It is a movie so adored that some TV stations actually showcase it in 24hr rotation on Christmas Eve. Luckily, A Christmas Story is quality enough that we overlook the fact that the one and only movie that should EVER be played on TV in 24hr rotation is Raw Deal. What some people […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema. What we do here, besides significantly skew the national cholesterol averages, is to blur the line between the worlds of bad movies and worse food. Like junk food, we recognize the lack of substantial value in these movies as far as film school dieticians are concerned, but we will still happily and lovingly scarf down box after box of sweet, frosted VHS tape… (Our metaphors have mixed like as similes allusion parable — sorry, third sugar stroke today). Where this approach becomes fuzzy, like gravy-left-on-the-counter-for-eight-days fuzzy, is when a bad restaurant is at the center of a bad movie. As devoid of taste as either the restaurant or movie (or both) may be, we can’t help but find ourselves wishing we could slip the surly bonds of reality and cross through the screen. We also wish the bonds of Fazoli’s hours of operation weren’t so surly, to say nothing of its night security guard. Such is the case with Nickelodeon’s 1997 fatsterpiece Good Burger. It began life as a sketch on the comedy/variety show All That, and then someone decided this marvel of noncomedy was worthy of a filmic adaptation. I guess that sketch where Amanda Bynes screams at people didn’t quite have the legs as did a sketch that boldly draws attention to the … ineptitude of fast food employees. Inspired by a recent article in the New York Times, in which restaurant reviewer Pete Wells eviscerates Guy Fieri’s Times Square cafe by simply […]

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Listen up, junknuts. Normally we’d coddle you and explain how things work around here. But dammit man, there isn’t time for that today. Blah blah blah comparing bad movies to junk food until we’re stupid fat; stupid and/or fat. We have been presented with a crisis unparallelled in the history of humankind. I am choking back very real tears as I write this. Hostess, the purveyor of the only things that matter on this planet, has been forced out of business by a striking bakers union. The panic level here at Junkfood Cinema has not been this elevated since Oops! All Berries cereal had us convinced that the delicate balance of Captain Crunch had been irrevocably upended. You may laugh, but this is almost precisely kind of what the Mayans predicted and further emphasizes that the world totally might end in December. Now, I’m not an expert on labor laws or corporate litigation, but I am chubby and paranoid. Therefore, I have arrived at the only reasonable conclusion that we have entered the second Prohibition and somehow also Hostess will soon be our currency. As these delicious cakes are now illegal (that’s what they said, right?), we must find ways to smuggle them into our mouths using (shudder) substantial normie food. We have therefore entered the Junkfood Cinema alternate universe in which the food is the focus. In this universe, we select movie pairings to the food. We have come up with culinary disguises for some of our favorite Hostess […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; home of Her Majesty’s Secret Sauce. This is the movie column with the license to grill…terrible movies. We fry everything else. Every week we moon-rake a bad movie over the coals, shaking it, stirring it, and a third Bond pun as well. We mock the living daylights out it, but just when it seems we have a view to a kill, we offer the movie a quantum of solace in the fact that we actually do harbor an affection for it. At the end, as we’ve never been a proponent of the idea of live and let diet, we serve up a disgustingly delicious snack food themed to the movie and sure to add a few double chins to those double-0 agents. One of the problems with being a diehard fan of the James Bond franchise, is that it’s impossible to then be a JamesBond fan of the Die Hard franchise. Wait, no, that’s not what I was going to say. The real problem is that your fandom often prevents you from avoiding some of the series’ worst entries even though you really ought to. Sure, Skyfall was tremendous, but does that mean I can finally resign myself to never again watch Die Another Day? No, it’ll still be there, impossible to resist; like a burn at the roof of your mouth that you can’t stop tonguing while watching Die Another Day. It’s so bad, that I’ve actually had to come up with new methods […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; the only thing tricky about our treats is getting to them before we do. This is the scariest movie column on the internet. It combines the horror of watching terrible movies with every child’s worst nightmare: heart disease. Every witch-filled week we are haunted by a terrifyingly bad film that we manage to exorcise from the house by mocking its many ghastly faults. Then, because we don’t speak ill of the dead…when they’re in the room, we profess our undying affection for said abomination. Lately, we’ve been going the more conceptual route, which is frightening in and of itself considering the unsettling dearth of smarts in our skeleton crew. However, knocking on the door of Junkfood Cinema will always yield a delicious, if sure-to-kill-you-slowly, snack themed to the movie. Happy Junkfoodween, bats and ghouls! This is our absolute favorite holiday of the year. While we know many of you may be conflicted and not wish to choose Halloween over that other big holiday at the end of the year, we have no compunction about telling Guy Fawkes Day to take a flying fawk. This is the time of year when adults are allowed to be children again…wild, boozed up, scantily clad children. Okay, well maybe not children, but at least more inclined to indulge their love of things like candy, scary movies, and dressing up in costumes. This tradition is not lost on the horror genre and even the schlockiest of titles often feature Halloween […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; we cook Pop Tarts in the VCR. This is the weekly internet movie column that John Carpenter recently heralded as “something I’ve [totally] heard of.” Each week we bring you a horrifically bad movie, forcing you to topple with us into the void, careening like damned souls through the film’s innumerable faults. Just when our doom seems all but certain, the fall stops suddenly as we land on a giant marshmallow peep. From one unspeakable nightmare, right into another. We are grateful for the fall, the journey that led us to sweet reward. To then celebrate the journey that will lead to our losing at least one foot, we will pair the movie with a decadent, themed snack. Of all the things Junkfood Cinema has been accused of — and that is a lengthy, chubby list — no one would ever call us ahead of the curve. We are indeed well within the curve — mid-curve even…sub-curve. Curvacious? How dare you. If you thought “old-fashioned” was just a drink order, you obviously haven’t seen the mountains of VHS tapes dotting the landscape of JFC headquarters. This supposedly outdated technology is our preferred viewing method for every film ever.

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; our bubblegum is teeming with spider eggs. Legend tells of a bad movie column that resides in the darkest, stormiest parts of the internet. They say on this very day many years ago, a bad movie was murdered in this column. It was mocked mercilessly for all of its innumerable faults in what was supposed to be a prank, but things got out of hand. The perpetrator, JFC, tried to bury the evidence (i.e. their love for the movie), but it came back. When it comes to schlocky movies, like a car door handle at the end of a particularly silly 50s cautionary tale, JFC is hooked.  That affinity for awfulness should serve as warning to others…that we have an affinity for awful. To celebrate our addiction, we will guzzle down all the pop rocks and soda we can find, or some other snack food themed to the film that won’t dissolve our insides…quite as quickly. There are plenty of myths and tall tales swirling about the collective human consciousness, this one however is horrifyingly true. It occurred in the ancient era, in the time before time: September, 1998. According to the elders, it was a strange time to be alive. A man called William the Clinton was ruling our land, diamondbacks and devil rays were added to the field of professional baseball, and humankind was presented with the unfortunate task of choosing between Armageddon and Deep Impact. As the story goes, autumn’s arrival was […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; the only thing we haunt is casino breakfast buffets. You’ve arrived at the most unsettling of bad movie columns on the perfidious den of wickedness known as the interwebs. Every week we present for your viewing displeasure a particularly ghastly piece of cinematic schlock unearthed from the vaults of unspeakable horror (alias the Rubbermaid trash can full of VHS in the garage). As we force your unsuspecting eyes to behold the nightmarish horrors of the movie’s shortcomings, we cackle with sinister delight. We go so far as to then reveal our morbid appreciation for said filmic abomination. To top off the torture, we will force a fiendishly tasty snack food, themed to the film, down your cowering gullets. This boys and ghouls, is Junkfood Horror. October is the month that everyone watches horror movies. From the hardcore weirdos to the sissiest of sissy babies, for at least a few weeks, we all enjoy a good scare. As we sit on the front porch of Junkfood Labs, devouring bag after bag of “fun”-sized Snickers because the trick-or-treaters apparently won’t be showing up for several hours, and several days, it occurred to us that there is really no getting away from the horror genre. When November 1st arrives, you can lock away all your copies of The Exoricist and Amityville and Maid in Manhattan, but the irrepressible evil there contained will not relent. “Oh wait,” you say interrupting my column with your smelly internal monologue, “I can […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; send in the Mounds, or at least the Almond Joy. This is the weekly internet column that may appear as any other, but go in for a closer whiff and get sprayed in the face with our hilarious lack of taste; wholly evident in the phrasing of that last sentence alone. Every week we bring a bad movie to the middle of the center ring. We mock it, we roast it, we hit it repeatedly in the face with a lemon harangue pie. But then, we bring out the giant seltzer bottle of whacked appreciation, which is a totally real thing. Once the foolish movie feels only slightly less foolish, we offer a reprieve from this metaphorical circus in the form of a decadently unwise snack food item themed to that movie. October is here, and that can mean only one thing…the end of voter registration! Actually, that wasn’t what we were thinking, but it is an important reminder and we implore you to do your civic duty. Hehe, doody. No, for those of me here at Junkfood Cinema October means a month-long celebration of the greatest holiday this side of the annual return of the McRib: Halloween. In an ongoing effort to keep our wanton mediocrity at least on theme, we’re once again instituting Junkfood Horror. We begin this year’s slate with a hilarious bit of federal mail fraud. We maybe kinda definitely don’t worry about it intercepted a letter to the Chiodo brothers […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; they don’t make buns like this down at the bakery…well they do, we just bought them all. This is the weekly bad movie column that makes all other bad movie columns look far better by comparison. Every week we serve up a delightfully terrible movie with every intention of ripping it to shreds. But then, as we are forced to spend two hours with that celluloid terror, a funny thing happens. We begin to fall in love. The film engenders a genuine feeling of adoration within us that we can’t always fully articulate even as we articulate it. So yes, Junkfood Cinema has officially been reclassified as a form of Stockholm Syndrome. To wash down the deeply disturbing breakthrough we’ve just had, we will offer a disgustingly awesome snack food themed to the film. Fantastic Fest may be over, but its effects linger like the hangover we may or may not but totally are experiencing as we/I write this. One of those effects is the scorched Earth where once stood the Drafthouse theater that showcased a repertory screening of 1987′s Miami Connection. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Junkerford, isn’t Miami Connection a little too mainstream for this column?” Perhaps you’re right, but my name is Junkseph. However, despite the fact that everyone and their sister, Everywina, has seen this masterpiece, it somehow managed to go unreleased on anything but VHS. Drafthouse films, the harbingers of international genre fare of spectacular quality, as well as […]

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Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; we caught a bad case of Mr. T-Virus after watching D.C. Cab. You’ve shambled your way into the Internet’s most desolate landscape. We have survived the apocalypse of taste and logic and what remains are ravenous hordes of slack-jawed goons hellbent on consuming as much garbage as inhumanly possible. These monsters tear apart the tasty flesh of bad movies, devouring the flaws with growls of snark. But then, out of nowhere and completely scoffing at the laws of physics, the flaxen haired heroine of irrepressible adoration somersaults through the air and puts a bullet in the heads of all those undead jabs. Once the horde has been beaten back, we will celebrate with a themed snack food that will do to our stomachs what Alice does to the infected. You may have noticed references in that previous paragraph to the Resident Evil franchise. Well, we laid them on pretty thick so don’t go patting yourself on the back too hard there, A.O. Scott. This week, we’re getting the sixteenth…or eighth…or possibly just fifth Resident Evil movie. So in honor of the release of Resident Evil: Redundancy, we thought we’d shine a blinding spotlight on the franchise’s misunderstood, admittedly dastardly, Umbrella Corporation. Surely, they can’t be as bad as they are, right? True, they are in fact THE resident evil of Resident Evil, but what did they really do beyond create a virus that destroyed the world and then continued to make worse and worse monsters […]

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Junkfood Cinema - Large

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; the only thing we shamelessly rip-off is the wrapper from our Arby’s Big Beef ‘n Cheddar. This is the weekly Internet movie column that shatters the crystalline standards of good taste. We lambast a bad movie and scatter the shards of its dignity across the floor. Then, like a senile geriatric rodeo clown, we scream yippee-ki-yay Mister Tucker and run barefoot over those shards, a testament to our troubling affinity for said bad movies, an affinity that does not die with ease. Have you ever noticed how good Die Hard is? If your answer is anything other than “indubitably” or “shit yeah it is,” please give me your address so I can mail you one hundred dollars…that will probably look and feel like face punches but I promise are totally dollars. If you are among those whose faces are  not currently in danger of postal pummeling, then you recognize the sheer awesomeness of John McTiernan’s violent ode to both Hitchcock’s wrong man theme and receding hairlines. For those of you who haven’t seen it, welcome to our planet and please give my regards to Lord Zoonax. It’s the story of a sweaty, tender-footed cop who goes to visit his estranged wife during a party in the tallest building in all of Die Hard. This unfortunately timed reunion occurs just before evil crime boss Severus Snape invades the party with an veritable food court of international terrorists. John McCop must sneak through air vents, eat Twinkies, […]

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Junkfood Cinema - Large

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; death wish, thy name is Baconator. You’ve wandered foolishly down the back alleys of the internet, and arrived in a really bad neighborhood. By that, I of course mean a neighborhood full of reprobates with a predilection toward criminally bad movies. Sure, the denizens of the dilapidated JFC tenements will surround the movie and stomp it liberally with mockery, but that’s simply the initiation. Surviving the onslaught of snark indoctrinates said bad movie into the gang, and much streetwise love is subsequently lavished upon it. That’s when we crack open a six-pack of Twinkies, or some other disgustingly tasty food themed to the movie, and chase away all semblance of respectable taste. This week, we strap on a Kevlar vest we know won’t at all save us and prepare to stand toe-to-toe with Paul Kersey. Who’s Paul Kersey? If you don’t know his name it only means you haven’t crossed him yet…or that you haven’t seen any of the Death Wish movies. Paul Kersey is Charles Bronson, and Charles Bronson is the soft-spoken angel of mustachioed death. He has had arguably the worst luck as a husband and father. First, his wife and daughter are sexually assaulted by a gang of Jeff Goldblum-led punks, which are the worst type of punks, then his wife is murdered and his daughter goes catatonic. But wait, there’s so, so much more. He moves to a new town and, wouldn’t you know it, his daughter (just out of the […]

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Junkfood Cinema - Large

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; training wheels are sexy, dammit. You cycled your way through all the worthwhile content on the Internet, and fifteen minutes later you wound up here. Every week we examine movies so bad, watching them is like riding a bicycle without an overused simile. We kick the tires so hard they go spinning off the frame and irrevocably disrupt the game of ultimate Frisbee going on in the park we’re apparently in for this scenario. But then, just as we’re about to reach the highest gear of snark, we hit the brakes and admit that we’re head-over-handlebars in love with said bad film. To help ease the resulting bloody wounds, we will indulge in a delicious themed snack food item to tide us over until the ambulance arrives. Bikes! As we all know, any films made after  1989 are inherently inferior to the inferior movies of the years prior. However, there are miraculously rare occurrences when inferior movies from the inferior inferior movie era, i.e. right now times, are the type of inferior we find superior. In these instances, the movies playing in the multiplexes actually manage to exemplify the highly low standards we demand from our schlock. This week, one such glorious failure is Premium Rush. Starring that little Chinese girl from 3rd Rock from the Sun, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Premium Rush is about a group of people who ride bicycles for a living. No they don’t wear fancy yellow jerseys nor, disappointingly, are they circus […]

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Junkfood Cinema - Large

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; every bit as important as Time Cop. This is the Film School Rejects column celebrating movies that are damme stupid, damme shallow, and damme awesome! Every week we tear into a lovably bad film like it was a Belgian waffle, which by the way was the nickname of our indecisive foreign exchange roommate in college. We will roundhouse a cinematic stinky cheese in the face with mockery, making plenty of surprise sex faces in slow motion as we do so. But as we are kicking it, we are simultaneously revealing our fondness for these flicks; kicking in the face with the other foot the notion that they are without merit. It’s actually a very difficult maneuver that has us executing a groin-punishing mid-air split. As we ice down our tender bits, we will gorge ourselves on a nauseatingly tasty snack themed to the movie we just watched. This week, the Alamo Drafthouse played host to one of the most epic showcases of epic film epicness to ever be epic. In celebration of the impending/now(ish) release of The Expendables 2, a tribute to one of its newest cast members was conceived. Three classic Jean-Claude Van Damme films, at least as classic as that combination of words allows, would serve as the appetizer for the bloody bullet feast that was sure to be The Expendables 2.

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Junkfood Cinema - Large

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; the only type of kicking we advocate is kicking back…and also roundhouse. You’ve just smoke-bombed your way into the Internet’s most ninja-based bad movie column. Every week we knuckle down (or up) and punch apart a mega mountain of a terrible film. We’ll throw shurikens of snark at the movie’s faults in a sneak attack of thinly-masked adoration. Just when the movie is beaten down to the point of committing seppuku, we will distract it by offering it a disgustingly delicious themed snack. This week marks the twentieth anniversary of one of the most important films ever made. A film that challenges convention and plumbs the very depths of the human soul. It also features ninjas. I’m referring of course to Lawrence of Arabia, or possibly 3 Ninjas. Yeah, no I definitely mean 3 Ninjas. This 1992 film asks the difficult, thought-provoking questions. Can kids be ninjas? Are they only permitted to do so in odd-numbered groups? Did Home Alone suffer from a karate deficiency? In it, a trio kick-happy fighty-tikes are taught the martial arts by Sensei Inexplicably Asian Grandpa. They then use their kid’s-table-Bruce-Lee skills to take on Diet Steven Segal and Not Quite Odd Job aboard their drug ship. In honor of the anniversary of this masterpiece, we gathered together our go-to focus group, a.k.a Mrs. Tobias’ third-grade class, to engage in a vital scientific experiment. We gave them a series of mad libs designed to construct the perfect title for the […]

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Junkfood Cinema - Large

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; Mr. McDonald, tear up this restraining order. You’ve marched into the most patriotic bad movie column since the dramatic toppling of Lee Greenwood’s Stars and Schlock Forever. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that not all movies are created equal. Some are endowed by their creators with certain inexplicable faults. We here at JFC are dedicated to the proposition that perhaps despite these faults, these films have elements that come together to form a more enjoyable union…than most would have the patience to endure. Then, in the last course of human descent, it will be become necessary for you to ingest a sugary themed food item week keep in the cupboard by the pebbles, Fruity Pebbles and Cocoa Pebbles. Communism, after consulting a dictionary recently and rectifying a longstanding misunderstanding, is not in fact that cracker-and-juice portion of church. It is a set of political and social ideologies with but one goal: destroy America. It was founded by John Lennon, the red walrus, and fear of this growing movement would later be spread in America by Senator Paul McCartney; a scare tactic known as McCartneyism. The Beatles were quite divided as it turns out. But how is it that we finally defeated this great threat? If there is one thing the movies have taught me, it’s that they are easily the best possible source for historical truth and all films essentially exist within the same universe…even if that universe is my fry-grease-and-Nintendo-addled brain. So […]

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