My Bloody Podcast
After a month-long sabbatical devoted to fireworks, hot dogs, and the peculiar patriotism of horror fandom (because nothing says “Independence” like a masked killer with
August 3, 2025
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After a month-long sabbatical devoted to fireworks, hot dogs, and the peculiar patriotism of horror fandom (because nothing says “Independence” like a masked killer with
But the reason the scene endures is because it’s us. It’s every dumb, joyful car ride we’ve ever had, every off-key duet we’ve ever screamed
Frailty is horror with a soul, a brain, and, most disturbingly, a body count that feels frighteningly plausible. It’s a film about family, faith, and
On the gloriously unhinged 130th episode of Fear and Loathing in Cinema, Bryan, Chelsea, Wade, and, making a cameo so brief it rivals Dave Matthews
The result? The funniest film since “Netflix and chill” was still edgy. Perhaps it’s time to update the phrase: The Naked Gun and fuck. Because
There’s something oddly comforting about the fact that, in any column like this, Martin Scorsese is bound to show up early and often, like a
There are filmmakers you respect, and then there’s Mike Judge; our unassuming, soft-spoken Nostradamus of middlebrow America. If Kubrick dissected humanity’s cosmic anxieties, Spielberg gave
Some people move to Texas for the brisket. Others come for the low taxes, wide skies, or a spiritual reawakening via H-E-B. But for Chelsea
If Marvel wants to course-correct, they could do worse than watch James Gunn’s Superman on loop for a few days. Or maybe, just maybe, stop
Yes, Dumbo; that compact, unassuming film, originally intended as a short and clocking in at a brisk 64 minutes; waddled onto screens and, to everyone’s
There are a few moments in cinema so uproariously funny, so joyously absurd, so perfectly executed, that they are seared into the collective comedic consciousness
There are few films that could convince four grown men in 2025 to willingly dodge the U.S. military draft, board a non-refundable flight to Hong
Before Ari Aster made us afraid of attics, flower crowns, or what a mother might do with a piano wire, he was dreaming of spurs,
Let us now consider the curious case of Randle Patrick McMurphy, the grinning, cigarette-dangling, borderline-saintly delinquent at the heart of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
On Episode #127 of Fear and Loathing in Cinema, a podcast that functions as both group therapy and cinematic exorcism, our scaly trio of hosts
By the spring of 2025, it became clear that horror; the moody misfit of cinema, the goth cousin at the awards season cotillion; was no
It was a hot and emotionally unstable weekend in Arlington, Texas; the kind of weekend where the sun cooks your retinas while thunderclouds loiter ominously,
By the time the sun finished melting over Arlington, Texas; a place where the heat is best described as a spiritual experience and the only
It’s 48 hours until the ring ropes are cinched taut and the pay-per-view lights flicker to life at Globe Life Field for All In, but
In Texas, July is less a month and more a state of suffering. The sun doesn’t shine so much as it slow-roasts, hovering over the
The show’s biggest flaw; its inability to decide if it wants to be heartfelt or farcical; is also, weirdly, its strength. Life, as Too Much
We’ve all been there. Or if we haven’t, we’ve hovered awkwardly near the edge, pretending to examine a bottle of shampoo while someone else’s emotional
The film’s emotional core, though, is a quiet scene in Kansas. Just a conversation between a son and his parents (Pruitt Taylor Vince and Neva
Let me preface this with a confession that might get me canceled at brunch: I love Woody Allen movies. There. I said it. I realize
On Episode #126 of Fear and Loathing in Cinema, our beloved panel of armchair cine-soldiers (who may or may not be honorary members of the
If Night of the Living Dead was Romero’s Beatles-on-Ed-Sullivan moment, The Crazies was his concept album no one understood until three decades later, probably while
It’s 4:17 PM. You’ve been in the airport since roughly the Truman administration. The air smells like burnt Starbucks and the fear sweat of business
There are few universal human experiences more demeaning than a job interview. First dates, maybe. An MRI with bad jazz playing in your headphones, sure.
If you were alive in the late ’70s or early ’80s; or were simply the kind of child raised on VHS tapes and questionable parental
On Episode #172 of My Bloody Podcast, the trio of hosts; a dino hunter with a flair for the dramatic, a bespectacled paleontology nerd with
