“I only submit my material to professional reviewers.”
    "We've received complaints over your use of the term ‘wiener dog bondage’."
    "These amateur hacks filling the DVD shelves represent the toilet paper of the horror film genre."
    "I can't believe you gave a good review to that piece of (garbage).  You obviously lack the sensibilities to reach the elite viewing audience that we serve."
    Damn.  I've had the AC/DC song Shot Down In Flames ringing through my head these past few months. 
    So I liked the film "I HATE YOU".  So I’m still giddy over the arrival of the latest Asylum screeners.  So I'd much rather watch Micro-Budget “amateur hack” films than the latest big budget studio PG-13 horror remake. 
   When did the horror reviewing community become so highbrow and snobbish that they would attack the very movement (micro-budget horror) that has created a renaissance of renewed interest and buzz, and revived a genre that had all but died out, reclaiming its rightful place on the Metroplex marquees and video store shelves?  "The elite viewing audience?"
    Remember the days when the mom & pop video stores were sprouting up like Starbucks do today? Before the Blockbuster/Hollywood Video conglomerates “Wal-Marted” them all out of business? The slow, anticipating walk down dark, tight aisles, weaving through handmade plywood shelves painted white. Horror, the section in the back (usually close to the western style swinging double doors that led into the “over 18” section), about six foot wide, was jammed with the 30 or so sequels of our favorite unstoppable teen killers, mixed with psycho romps named after every holiday and event on the calendar. And if you were lucky, the owner may have a true love for the genre and manage to scrape up a few Herschel Gordon Lewis allotments, some Romero gems, an occasional Toolbox Murder or Dementia 13. Big party when Evil Dead arrived. Even with these, you had to watch The Exorcist and others over and over.

    "Shot down in flames."
   The quotes at the beginning of this article, I must admit, I let them get to me.  I felt crushed at letting everyone down that I had contacted in earlier months with my "delusions of grandeur" letter, spelling out what I hoped to accomplish with the creation of my web site UnClean Zine On-Line.  I told people I would help promote their products by submitting reviews to other “well-established professional sites” that normally overlooked non-studio backed films.  Instead of helping to spread the word, I discovered the closed-door mentality in place as “educated” critics turned their noses up at the micro-budget achievements, or practice their editorial poison by picking apart films they had no intention of giving a fair shake to, an exercise calculated for establishing their role as knowledgeable critic. I see it as the inevitable fulfillment to the paraphrased adage "Those that can’t do, criticize."
    Hell yeah, I got a chip on my shoulder when my site was frozen for two months for using the keyword wiener dog bondage in the search engine description. These times really helped coalesce my writer's block, which solidified with various personal family crises that arose.  You don't realize how close I came to shutting everything down. 
    Then I looked through the stack of screeners that I've accumulated over this time; reviews outlined but never fleshed out, people with true love of the genre that felt I earned a chance to show that I could help them spread the word about their products.  I’ve alienated a few folks during this period of inactivity, which only helped to compound my mood of failure. And restart my sense of determination.
    I'm gonna give it another shot.  For the little guy, the true fan, the one not looking to gush over the latest CGI created, video game inspired guaranteed box office hit.  The drive-in addict who remembers how fun it was to sit outside in the dark watching Toolbox Murders, Last House On The Left and The Hills Have Eyes back-to-back-to-back, eating foil wrapped hot dogs while Pic smoke burned his eyes and tinny pole speakers buzzed his ears. 
    I hope to make up to those who I’ve let down.  And bring together many others that share the simple love of the horror movie. The love that's created not from the star appeal of the film's cast, the believability of the movies monster look, or the shade of Karo syrup splashed over its victims. 
    Hey guys, the crappiest horror film out there is still fun to watch with a few buddies and some beer on a Saturday night.  And to the “Simon Cowell” wannabe critics, remember: even the most expensive productions have the occasional boom arm in the shot or fish line moving the creature’s arm. 
    One last thing.  If you keep buying tickets to Land Of The Dead, The Devils Rejects, Wolf Creek and Hostel, maybe Hollywood will quit trying to sell you on giant pythons swallowing up its films cast. 
    Though that's doubtful.