Listen up! ‘Cause in case you haven’t heard . . . The movie POX

Written and directed by the wildly talented, wicked creative, and impressively prolific Lisa Stockton-Wilson — perhaps better known to the masses as singer / song-writer / musician / thespian / all-around Uh-Huh, Don’t-You-Wish-You-Were-Her phenomenonicon Miss Lisa Hammer —

can be obtained for the “I Mean ; I Can’t Even” section of your DVD collection.

However, for those of you more on the instant gratification tip? The film is also available for streaming, by way of the almighty TLA Video.

This already-cult classic [ as in, like: Seriously, Mary . . . Where Have You Been? ] stars the inimitable Alizarinkryz as none other than POX himself.

In addition to our fearless cult leader, a slew of other luminaries appear in this cinematic delight — including :

Who? The dude from Gregg Araki‘s ever-incandescent, Thrill Kill Kult samplin’, endless-source-of-one-liners The Doom Generation? As in : That movie with Rose McGowan so white hot in her role as Amy Blue that you either wanted to be her or be with her or what-the-fuck-ever / I-can’t-even-relate-to-you, and Parker Posey‘s best cameo appearance probably, oh, ever, and of course Margaret Cho also shows because we’ve known she’s way fucking cool since long before your newbie ass was schooled how obnoxious it is for one to refer to himself by the majestic plural “we”? And uh-huh, dark-sider with so much erudite goth damage I bet even your toilet paper and tissue is pitch-hued : even and especially I’m looking at you when I reference how cEvin Key from Skinny Puppy fractured his knee during filming?

Yes. Yes, that James Duval.

And nope, the omission of Frank the Rabbit and Donnie Darko from my truncated ramble was neither oversight nor indication aforementioned title is not also chamber-tombed to my heart [for it is! It is : and how] but rather a reminder that fucking OATH, my beloved Bloggination! There’s a topic of much greater import to which I’m attempting to tend!

So, um. That being said? The film also features . . .

Kimberly Dzwonkowski, a.k.a. Kim Helms, whose performance is so effing g-damn genius; it’s full-on intracranial hemorrhage territory.

Levi Wilson, as the suicide punch meister of your masturbatory fantasies,

Sue Fletcher, as the neurotic loyal devoteé who deems herself “Mrs. POX.” [ And rightly so! ]

Do not, however, mistake her — or rather : her character, totes and obvs — for a groupie. If the subtitled still frame hovering above this cluster of text doesn’t clarify the distinction, then honey : I don’t know what to tell you . . . [ A simple suggestion, perhaps? Two words : Life Alert. Pleazh is all mine, Bee Tee Doubs ]

Incidentally, well aware I’m giving Generous in the screen cap department, though rest assured that it’s been anything but mad cazh or madly random. Au contraire, the act is one of scrupulous selection — of painstaking deliberation — by which I attempt to illustrate the gravitas of the sitch, bitch. Said another way? This film tackles some serious territory. That’s “serious” with implied italics. You feelin’ me?

And the atmosphere? Oh, how it delivers. Yes!

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At any rate, so like. Yeah . . . It just so happens I’m immortalized in this Cinematic Great myself, with an appearance as the character Jared Silver. And while I’ve mentioned this cameo as being a parody of my comrade Jared Gold in the past, truth of the matter is : the allusion is both inaccurate and unfair. Other than the play on Mr. Gold’s surname, any satire I serve is that of my persona.

Speaking of persona, spot-check “to the left” who’s part of my posse my character’s retinue, as we serve a bit of air kisses and ass-kissing to the papparazzi. Why, it’s only the winner of America’s Next Top Model Cycle 17 : ALL ★ STARS, the reigning Queen Supreme of All-The-Scandal-She-Can-Handle : Lisa D’Amato. I mean : nada biggie or anything . . . unless you’re the type of person who intuits when someone / thing is Kind Of A Big Deal.

Tsk, tsk . . . Such a commanding cunt, my character. Just look upon the pretenshy ‘tude being given here — and to world famous sculptor and photographer David Meanix, no less! NERVE, honey. NERVE.

She’s a nervy lass herself, that D’Amato Deluxe — though make no mistake : one of her own brand . . . if not planet. Here The All-Star is again, this time immortalized via still frame with my dear friend Nicolas Luna.

Though why don’t we duck out of the crimson-hued amniotic murk a hot little second and allow this portrait by celebrity photographer Piper Ferguson to provide a bit of transpiration sensation we’ve got on the happs. As for macro? Well, I consider it imperative to emphasize how apropos the term “celebrity photographer” is in relation to The Mighty Ms. Ferguson. Not only is she an established music, fashion, lifestyle, entertainment, marketing and advertisement-based photographer; she also has directed several critically-acclaimed music videos.

Short of the long? She rules. [ See : ref ; see ref ]

As for the micro, on the other ominously-manicured claw? Namely, my intent is to draw attention to the live Madagascar Hissing Cockroach Brooch Nic is wearing. [ His name was Henry — and incidentally, yes : I miss his inimitable charm and designer resplendence. Very much. ]

Alright, then. Whether as spokesmodel, event host, or all-around superstar, if there’s anyone who’s no stranger to this URL, it’s the remarkable Lenora Claire. The subtitles suit Miss Thing pretty well, hrmm?

Oh! And the end credits. As far as I’m concerned? Myriad, the choice of adjectives and adverbs to denote emphasis, one of which is : truly an integral component of film. It’s like . . . Closure. Such a recurring motif in our lives ; why not do it well? Fortunately, The Hammer does. [ And how! And HOW. ]

Yep. Me again. Is that a problem? Whelp, I suppose you can either “Take A Number,” or commence dialing Whine-One-One for a waaahmbulance, if that’s the case. S’anywaaaay, spoilers / teasers / What-The-F, I might as well tell you : I serve some Off-The-Cuff while the credits roll . . . some of which veers into LOL territory ; some of which isn’t as clever as I wish it were. — that’s “I,” as in : me ; as in : via my standard persona, rather than that of an ‘alter’ [ Case/point, the Jared Silvér scandalabra ].

And O.K., sure : the spelling of his name is a bit off, but it’s still the one and only Jeffree Star. Not that I need to tell you or anything . . . I’m just bein’ all “Hey, fangirls! Heyyyyy.”

Next in the queue? Despite the fact she’s shot me down in the past, I can’t help but adore the actress, comedian and burlesque performer who’s a “small package with a very big presence” : The host of Lunatic Fringe, Miss Selene Luna! [ Wow. I kind of, uh, wrote that in a Booming! Radio! Voice! Didn’t I? Never mind that the only person listening to my internal dialogue is Yours Truly; instead, we’re movin’ right along . . . right along here, instead. . . ]

And you know, not to pat myself on the back or anything — if you’ll excuse the platitude along with the prerequisite “I’m-So-Modest” pleasantries, perhaps better called out as B.S. — but it’s a cool thing when one’s predictions come true. No, I’m not trying to be all Nostradamus and shit ; instead, I’m just giving another shout to my girl Lisa D. I’ve quoted myself before, and might as well give homage again . . . In an article that ran in Swindle magazine shortly after D’Amato‘s appearance on America’s Next Top Model : Cycle 5, I stated “In [our] current climate where politically-correct pleasantries have replaced the witty banter we once knew as engaging conversation, D’Amato’s moment as a rule-breaker and a risk-taker could not be more opportune.”

Actually, I sing Lil’ Chicklet all kinds of praises in that piece, but point of the matter : I still do. Sing her praises, like, “Way Crazies,” that is. Though now I’ll do us all a solid, and clap my trap from further outbursts. About Miss Thingus Herselfness, or hell : about anything.

Correct, that is . . . of immediate import, I intend to take my own cue and bring this beast on an entry to an end. Besides, if you’re able to read, then you’re already privy whom the gent in the screen cap hovering above this text is . Mssr. Gold has his own humorous, memorable moment in the line-up, which blahgity blah nope : I won’t be sharing. So exhausted by this point; I’m delirious . . . i.e., you’ll have to purchase or stream for more details.

Blah blah same story with blah, who’s brilliant. [ No, but seriously! ]

And uh-huh, yep : there he is again. Whereas I, on the other manicured claw? So, so out of here.

Now, I realize I’ve provided an F-Load of information. I mean : I know I personally have worn myself out . . .

[ Kitty Diggins has a few thoughts on the matter ]

So. To re-cap?

POX. Stream it. Buy it. Be it.

As for anything else in your life? That is all.