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Hold onto your handcuffs, Vixens and Voyeurs! This week, Mr & Mrs N drop a bombshell that will shake the foundation of the UK swinging scene! Get ready for an episode drenched in nostalgia, massive news, and a tantalizing glimpse into the future. The Ns are making an EARTH-SHATTERING ANNOUNCEMENT that marks the end of a legendary era and the birth of something utterly unprecedented. They reveal the details for their LAST EVER V2V Club party at the iconic Liberty Elite Club—your final chance to experience the magic that started it all! But that's just the beginning. The biggest question remains: WHAT IS THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THE V2V EMPIRE? Tune in to hear the Naughty Podcasters explain why they are closing the curtain on one chapter... and teasing the jaw-dropping, seductive new world they are about to unlock. They are inviting YOU to accompany them! You won't believe what they are doing next! This is one you CANNOT afford to miss!

Our website was attacked by China, Sydney Sweeney: Bombs & Boobs, Ace Frehley's cause of death, Dave Portnoy v. antisemites, Leslie Jones pops off, K-Pop pass out, and Doug Podell retires. Win tickets to Michigan/Ohio State through Hall Financial! Does the Detroit Lions' John Morton have anything to do anymore? Our website was hacked. Thanks a lot Government shutdown… and China. The 2026 Grammy nominations came out Friday. The Tish Hyman vs transgender story has an update as Kyle Grant Freeman (Alexis Black) has a shady past. The IOC is putting a nix on trans athletes wailing on women. ‘6 7' is so dumb, but getting national press. Movies are just BOMBING lately. Aimee Lou Wood vs Sydney Sweeney. Zendaya vs Sydney Sweeney. We like her work in The Voyeurs. Ford is considering ending the electric F-150 Lightning. Ace Frehley's cause of death is revealed. The Government shutdown just about over. So are we going to get a $2,000 check, or what? Doug Podell is retiring from radio after 50 years. Another deer hit while listening to The Drew Lane Show. ‘Cut the Crap' from The Clash was so bad that people are still talking about how bad it was 40 years later. Leslie Jones hopped up on the Good One podcast and she popped off on Tony Hinchcliffe among other rants. Dave Portnoy is battling antisemitism. Zohran Mamdani remains a polarizing politician. Guests at Kris Jenner's James-Bond-themed-70th birthday party was a Hollywood who's who. Chappell Roan is nauseating and a huge diva on the red carpet. Down goes a K-Pop star! Someone got awfully handsy with Halsey. If you'd like to help support the show… consider subscribing to our YouTube Channel, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter (Drew Lane, Marc Fellhauer, Trudi Daniels, Jim Bentley and BranDon).

The Time Riders: Part 2 When you've got a time machine, practice makes perfect. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Always The Student. Mark was lying on his back, panting while Becky squirmed and writhed on top of him, moaning in pleasure. His hands were on her opulent tits, kneading them just how she loved it. The lovers were covered in sweat as she ground her cunt down onto his cock, taking him deep inside. He matched her sensual rhythm, pushing up while she pressed down, squeezing his shaft with each thrust he made. "Yes, Mark;” she gasped, her hands resting on his chest while she writhed on him shamelessly. It didn't matter that she was his former high school Physics teacher, or even that she still was, in a sense, she was committed to fucking him because she'd promised herself she'd enjoy this, and Becky did her damdest to always follow her own advice. "Yes, baby, right there;” Becky now began gyrating her hips in a circle on top of him, interrupting the rhythm that would certainly had led to both of them cumming and she wanted to prolong this session. She felt Mark regain control of himself, adapting to the new pace, although he continued to molest her tits, pinching and tugging on her nipples. Her flawless skin glistened with her exertions, the wonderful scent of a woman making love permeating the air. "Hmm, good boy," she purred, smiling down at him. "You're learning." "I've got the best teacher I could ask for." Mark replied, grinning back. "Forget all the time travel stuff you're helping me figure out, you're amazing in bed, Becky. I've never cum so hard before, not like when I'm with you." "You're so sweet, darling," she cooed, reveling in the feel of his throbbing cock deep inside her. Ever since that night he'd snuck into her home and failed so miserably at trying to seduce her so she would change his Physics grade, they'd become ardent lovers, with her being nearly as addicted to their sex as he was. "You make me cum really hard too, just so you know. And the gift you brought me back from London was so thoughtful. How would you like to fuck me next?" Mark nodded, pondering her question. He had indeed brought her back a gift, from London in the 1880's. He'd come back with a lovely dress from the period and a bottle of Italian wine. Even though she had never accompanied him on a temporal trip (except that very first one, to prove he had a time machine at all), she seemed to have an innate understanding of how to time travel without screwing things up, which was very easy. He took hold of her hips and slowly rolled her onto her stomach. She purred as she pushed her legs together and then knelt over her thighs. She put her chin on her arms and sighed as he pulled her ass cheeks apart and pushed his cock down into her cunt. Her clamped legs made her feel tighter than ever and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. Keeping himself up on his hands, his back arched so that she was pinned beneath him, he began to piston his hips, fucking his teacher. "Oh, Mark;” she murmured. "It's so good this way. Your cock feels so wonderful inside me." "Uh, God;” he breathed, shuddering as she squeezed her cheeks together, clamping her cunt around him as he thrust. "I never wanna stop fucking you." "I don't want you to," she gasped as he hit her sweet spot. "And because you; oh; have your time machine; we can find a way; to fuck forever;” She squirmed and writhed beneath him while he pushed up and down on her, both of them getting slick with sweat. They groaned and panted together. He leaned down and bit her shoulder Becky keened in pleasure. Trembling, she arched her hips, pushing up against him. She could feel his cock twitching and swelling inside her. "Gonna cum;” he breathed, pushing down and straining. "Uh! Yes, cum in me, Mark!" she wailed. She pressed her face into a pillow as she screamed, feeling her student's cum spurting inside and filling her spasming cunt. Mark shook and groaned loudly, so glad they were in her house and could be as loud as they needed to be. Her slammed his hips down onto her, tingling pleasure blossoming through him. Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them limp and breathing heavily. He reached under Becky and put his hands on her tits, squeezing gently. She hummed and undulated her soft cheeks beneath him, milking his cock for all of his cum, her wet cunt wanting every last drop. They said nothing for several minutes, just lying there in bliss. Becky finally slowly turned over, Mark's cock slipping out of her and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeply. He pushed his still-hard cock back in and moved back and forth gently inside her and she squeezed him in rhythm. Tongues tangled and they hummed contentedly into one another's mouths. "God, I want to find a way to have multiples of you fucking me all at once," she purred, smiling into his eyes and caressing his cheek. "One in my cunt, one in my ass, another in my mouth; hmm, that sounds heavenly." "Yeah, but won't I, like, blow up spontaneously, or collapse the universe if I encounter myself?" he asked somewhat warily. He liked the idea of fucking all Becky's holes, but not if it made everything go boom. She giggled and bopped his nose. "Silly. Why are you asking me? You're the one with access to this time-travel police force. What did you say they were called? TEA?" "Yeah, they said they're called the Temporal Enforcement Agency." Mark confirmed. "I called them Teabaggers and they didn't think that was funny." "Oh, be nice to them, darling," she chided gently. "After all, they're protecting the timeline for crazy kids like you." "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, knowing she was infinitely more sensible than him about these things. She was already so much smarter at this temporal stuff than he was. The only reason his little trip to 1800's London went well was because she'd prepped him and made him think it through. "Getting myself killed is apparently pretty easy." "Boo, and then we couldn't fuck anymore," she said, sounding sad. "And even if you stopped time-travelling tomorrow, I'd still want to fuck you. You've unleashed a demon in me." "I know it," he laughed. "I have to rest a few days after our marathon fuck sessions, only to come back in your next day to keep up with your libido. Not that I'm complaining, mind." She giggled. "Well I do love to fuck," she agreed. "Maybe one day, I'll go with you. I'd love to fuck in a harem bath house or a Parisian brothel." Mark rolled off her and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could almost see the steam rising off them. As tricky as time travel was, he never would have ended up in bed with his Physics teacher if it hadn't been for his time machine. "That chronometer the agents gave me comes in really handy," he said, his thoughts drifting. "It actually gives me little warnings if I'm getting too close to another temporal event. It means I can't do some things I'd like to do, but things get complicated." She smiled. "You said they called it 'the Limelight Effect' or getting clock hammered, depending on what you were trying to do." He nodded. "They didn't like it when I called it 'clock-blocking'." "You said they had no sense of humor." Becky mused. "But maybe practicing with your Holmes Field Device in minor ways will help." He turned and looked at her. "How so?" "Well," she began, turning on her side to look at him, her hand propping up her head. Her nipples gently kissed the skin of his arm. "How about you take me out for dinner? We'll pick a low-traffic area, somewhere time travelers don't go. You said that your chronometer dials are difficult to physically turn and the Holmes Field device always skews numbers if you're trying to get anywhere that would prove troublesome." He considered what she was saying. "So, take you to some remote village in the past where no one else is ever interested in going. We can try finessing my control of the device." She nodded. "Precisely. I don't know about you, but I speak flawless French, we could visit a little village in France's past and we could get some dinner. You could learn how to deal with the locals, get a feel for what you'll have to do if you keep travelling the time stream." "It's weird how you can say words like 'time stream' so naturally, like it's normal," he sighed. "Still, you're right, careful practice is probably a good thing." "It'll be fun," she said, reaching over and taking hold of his hip to turn him into her. Her tits were now squashed to his chest, his soft cock against her gooey cunt. "How bad a teacher can I be for this? You made it through my physics class without tearing a hole in reality." "And yet I failed," he sighed. "I doubt I can fuck my way out of every bit of trouble I get myself into." She giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the bed and leading him to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee while she stroked his cock gently, She shivered as she peed, feeling his cum trickling of her, pulling him closer and taking him in her mouth. She hummed as she bobbed back and forth, enjoying their mingled taste. Mark had to admit that he was enjoying how relaxed she was around him now that they were lovers. "So," she said finally, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a quiet pop. "We'll shower and get cleaned up. Then we'll head to the public library to figure out where and what we're doing. Anybody asks, I'll say I'm helping you with your schoolwork." He smiled slyly, feeling a familiar tingle in his cock at the thought of showering with her. This was going to be a good night. "So here's a question," she remarked as she watched Mark get dressed in the outfit they'd bought for the occasion, hidden from prying eyes in her basement, where he kept the Holmes Field Device. They'd visited a costume shop and found clothing that was a good fit for the period they were visiting, that being France in the 1600's. "Did they ever tell you about any contacts you can make in the time stream? You know, like dealers?" He looked at her quizzically. "Dealers?" "Sure," she said, nodding. "There must be time-travelers who make their living by providing goods and services to other travelers. I mean, you need to be able to get money and supplies somewhere, so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb, right?" "Yeah, that'd make sense," he admitted. "I mean, I got lucky when I tried going to London and got that dress, I managed to pawn off some knick-knacks I'd brought with me, because I didn't know how else to pay for anything. And they thought I was just some ignorant American. I got out a lot quicker than I thought I would." "I think we should find out," she reasoned. "If you're going to do this, you should really learn how to find what you need." "Exactly how much time-travelling do you think I'm gonna be doing?" he asked, giving her a wry look before continuing to put on his new outfit. "Well, we know you have no future as a physicist, maybe you'll find something you're good at in the time stream," she giggled, making him sigh. She moved forward to help him get into his clothes, since he clearly had no idea what he was doing. "And even if you don't know how to find a dealer, I'm willing to bet that they'll know how to find a traveler." He couldn't argue with that logic and stood still while she corrected his attire, kissing his nose as she finished. He then watched as she got into her own period garb, doing so much more efficiently than he had done. She saw him looking at her and winked. "In spite of my physics major, I also did a lot of work in theater," she quipped, holding her top loosely in place over her opulent tits. "I've been in Les Mis a few times, so I know my way around period garb." "I feel bad about you bringing that jewelry to trade for money," he said, wishing he had more to offer. He didn't just yet, however. "Oh, they're nothing, it's just old gold I never wear," she said dismissively. "I'd probably just end up selling them in a pawn shop at some point. This way, at least it's getting some use. I sell these things I never wear, we get the proper currency, then we go and have some fun. I don't see how this can be a bad thing." "I guess I just feel like it should be me paying." Mark murmured, trying not to blush. "Silly," she giggled again. "You're an eighteen year-old boy. What one earth could you possibly have accumulated that the time stream would be interested in?" "Well, you got me there," he sighed, giving up and letting her continue. "Maybe I'll make it big in the time stream and then I can keep you buying you the presents you deserve." "Ooh, you honey-dripper," she cooed, smiling and kissing his nose before stepping back and examining him. "Well, you're starting to look the part. I'll use some gel in your hair to tousle it a little and then I think we're probably as close as we can get, since neither of us has syphilis or tuberculosis." He waited while she fixed his hair and then took care of her own, pulling her golden locks back in a bow. She was wearing a peasant dress, one that accentuated her small waist and large bust. His outfit, was more akin to a gentleman of northern Europe, with a blue vest and white breeches that he found rather tight, especially around the crotch. "So, milord," she lilted, threading her arm through his and smiling at him. "Shall we sally forth?" He nodded and walked over toward the time machine, his chronometer in hand. 17th Century, France. "Combien allez-vous me donner pour ce pendentif?" Becky asked the owner of the dingy little shop they were standing in. Candles flickered on the walls, dimly illuminating the musty room. The shop-owner, a wizened little man wearing crooked spectacles, looked up her with rheumy eyes. He held out a gnarled hand and she gently put the dull gold bangle into it. Her brought it close to his face, examining it intently. He weighed it in his palm and then scratched the inner surface, testing its contents. He licked his lip as he considered her offering. Finally he put it down. "Onze Louis," he declared, nodding. "Onze Louis, quatre livres, douze sous et vingt-et-trois deniers." Mark looked at Becky, who was considering what he had told them. After a few seconds, she seemed to think he was being reasonable. "Bien. Tout en livres et sous, s'il vous plait." The man counted out one hundred and sixty-six sous and pushed them across the counter. His eyes widened slightly as she pushed a gold necklace and two rings to him for appraisal. Half an hour later, they exited the shop with a small purse containing the equivalent of nearly fifty Louis, a small fortune by the standards of the period and their locale. "Here you go, milord," she said sweetly, pressing the purse into his palm. "It's only appropriate that you carry our funds, since you're the one cosplaying as the aristocracy." "Except my French sucks balls." Mark muttered as they walked down the dirt road. It was mid-morning and they'd arrived in a fallow field outside the town. Google maps indicated that it was empty in the modern day and online archive maps from France in 1652 indicated that it was much the same way back then. With careful calculations of time and distance, they'd arrived without incident. "Well, you speak Spanish, so we'll pretend you're from Madrid or something," she said simply, holding his arm again. "And I'll be the lusty French tart from Rouen who travels with you, keeping you enamored with our fair country." "You'd be stupidly good at Larp, you're really getting into this," he sighed. Larp?” Live action role playing. Any other hidden talents I should know about?" Mark inquired. "If I told you then they wouldn't be surprises," she pointed out. "We women love to be mysterious." "Well, at least you're a woman, most of the girls I know who do that stuff are just crazy." "That's because they're teenage girls, who are, by definition, 'bugfuck insane'." Becky added. "A lot of women are too, I suppose, but at least there's a chance our hormones have straightened out. Probably not much different here, except for the mortality rate." They walked down the cobblestone rode, attracting the occasional stare as they walked into the town. They stopped a stout, middle-aged man and asked where they might get some decent food and accommodations. "You are dressed rather unusually to be walking," he said, looking at Mark. "You seem to be a gentleman of quality, sir. I am the town's physician and apothecary, my name is Henri. And yours, monsieur?" Mark stuttered. "Mark, uh; mon nom; es;” "Marco," Becky interjected suddenly, relieving him of the burden of struggling to make his name known in French. "He is Senor Marco Del Strade, and he is a baron from Valencia." "I thought I was from Madrid." Mark whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Shut the fuck up, I'm thinking on the fly here!" she hissed back. "What did the Spaniard say?" asked the portly physician. "That didn't sound Spanish." "A curse of our association," she said sweetly, beaming a radiant smile at him. "The baron speaks no French, and I no Spanish, so we communicate en Anglais, with which we both have some facility." "A rather unusual arrangement," grunted the man. "Nonetheless, it would not do for our humble town to allow a gentleman of quality to not be looked after. I would recommend L'Auberge Des Loups." "The Wolves' Inn?" Mark muttered out loud, knowing enough French to get that translation. "That doesn't sound too safe." "Be at ease, my friends," Henri said, chuckling. "The wolf is on our town coat of arms, and the Inn is our most reputable establishment. If you have the money, they will give you what you need." He turned and pointed down the road. "There, you can see the inn from this spot. The two-story building with the gambrel roof and all the smoke coming out of the chimney. See it?" "Yes, good sir, and we thank you." Becky said, curtseying before smiling at the man and putting his rather fat, gout-ridden hand in hers. "For all of your help." "Ah, well, yes," he said, blushing and withdrawing his hand from hers. "When you go to the inn, tell the proprietor that Henri sent you. This will make things easier for you." And with that, the man waddled off. "He seemed nice, I guess," Mark mused as they resumed their trek into the town. "I mean, I missed a lot of what you two said, but it seemed to agree with you." "We just need to mention his name when we get to the inn and that'll apparently make our lives easier." Becky replied, thinking how quaint everything was. She couldn't believe she was actually in seventeenth century France! But then, she was fucking her former student who was a time-traveler, so clearly anything was possible. She had already promised herself she would enjoy every moment of this experience. She'd chosen the year as carefully as possible, noting that there were no major Plague outbreaks mentioned and she had insisted they bring very discretely concealed medications with them. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, they continued down the main street until they reached the inn. They tacitly avoided stepping in the various effluences that trickled between the cobblestones and stepped over the unconscious peasants who were sprawled in the middle of the street before opening the faded green doors and entering. Dark and musty, lit by wall sconces and an ancient wrought-iron chandelier overhead in which guttered many candles, the large common room was like something out of an HBO special, minus the lighting budget. Large, round table dominated the space, while a great hearth and a long counter encompassed most of the back wall. Lots of sun-browned peasant faces turned to look at them while some stringed instrument plunked away from a corner. The place smelled of smoke and what was probably body odor. Still ignoring the stares, Becky led Mark up to the counter, behind which stood a surly-looking man with a black moustache and beard. He observed them with interest as they approached. Mark stood silently while Becky addressed the man in French. "My lord the Baron is looking for clean and welcoming accommodations for the night," she began, indicating Mark. "Henri sent us to you, saying that you were the establishment in this town worthy of his business." "If you can pay, then yes, we will be able to room you comfortably," he answered, looking at Mark. "Our best room is one livre per night. I assume the baron can afford this?" She looked at Mark now. "A single night is one livre. Those'd be the silver coins. Get one out and just give it to him, without showing how much you actually have." Mark nodded and fished out one of the coins indicated, putting it on the counter for the proprietor to inspect. Satisfied, the man nodded. "This will cover the room. If his lordship has need of a bath or food, we can provide these things as well." "Fresh food?" she asked pointedly. "Only the freshest for the lord," laughed the man loudly, causing people nearby to chuckle. "Is he a mute?" "No, he is Spanish and speaks no French," she said flatly, fixing the man with a hard look. "You can speak to me, his servant, if you feel the need to communicate. You can bring him food now, and your finest wine, good sir." She then turned and took Mark's arm, leading him over to an empty table in the corner, once again ignoring the gazes that followed them. She sat down and sighed, nodding. "We'll eat and then see about the room and a bath," she declared, looking around and taking everything in. "If it's big enough, I'm sure we can get into all sorts of trouble in the tub." "I'd like that," he said, finally relaxing. "I'm glad you're taking to this so easily, because I'm way out of my element. London in the 1880's was hard enough, and all I was doing was pretending I was an American traveler. France in the time of the Louis the Sun King, that's a little out of my league." "Don't worry, once you hit your stride, you'll do fine," she said gently, patting his hand. "I've just had more weird experiences over the course of my life than you have and am adapting a little quicker is all." A jug of wine, two goblets, some hearty bread with butter and some onions and cheese was brought over by a wench who looked like John Rhys-Davies in drag. She belched and tottered off, having delivered her goods. "Although I'm not so sure about adapting to that." Becky said, shaking her head to clear it of the image. She unstopped the jug and poured the dark red wine into their goblets while Mark portioned out the bread, butter, cheese and onions. They both dug in, finally realizing how hungry they were. "Oh, wow, that's good," Becky remarked, looking into her goblet, having tried the wine. "Just remember to eat a lot of bread and butter, Mark, or you'll have the hangover from hell." He'd never had a wine quite like this before and they quickly polished off the jug before ordering another. They finished their bread and cheeses before being presented with a roasted suckling pig and two pheasants, stuffed with local herbs. They enjoyed eating, but the wine was strong enough to eventually get through all the food they'd lined their stomachs with. Becky was giggling and tipsy within the hour. "I can't beli; believe we're here in France," she said, her head tilted to one side. "An' we're gonna fuck; in the tub; an' then in our room, because; because; defiling the timeline; sounds like fun. It's fun, you know, to fuck across history;” "It is," Mark agreed, not as drunk as Becky but still feeling rather buzzed. His tongue felt thick from the wine, which she had explained was not treated with any modern pasteurization process and therefore would be full of tannins and sediments they would need to account for or suffer an assured hangover. "And you're the person I'd want to do it with, Becks;” Becky giggled and slid her hand along his leg, finally arriving at his crotch and giving the bulged contained in the tight breeches a squeeze. "You're not; not a time cop; you're a time cock; timeless cock;” Some musicians had come in a few minutes earlier and were sitting in another corner of the common room. They struck up a lively tune on their lutes, fiddles and a small drum. Becky's eyes lit up as the music reached them. "Oh, I love this song!" she said loudly in English before hopping up from the table and dancing her way with abandon into the middle of the room. People watched on and began to clap and cheer as she stood on a table and began capering. "How the hell does she know this song?" Mark wondered, frowning as he watched his Physics teacher begin to dance and sing. Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Un capuchon je lui donnerais Un capuchon je lui donnerais Danse, mon moine, danse! Tu n'entends pas la danse Tu n'entends pas mon moulin, lon la Tu n'entends pas mon moulin marcher. Mark watched in wonder as she tottered back over and flopped onto the bench next to him, breathing heavily and perspiring. She grinned at him lopsidedly and winked, still obviously rather inebriated. "Why did you know the lyrics to that song?" he asked, utterly baffled. She poured herself more wine and drained her goblet in one gulp, with a very loud Gluck! noise. Clearly, she was intent on partying. "Went to; a Catholic school; run by nunsh;” she slurred, trying to fill her cup again. "Lotsh of shingin' to; keep our little teen girl mindsh; off sheksh; Fuckin' love that shong, used to shing that shong; all the' time; fuckin'; great to dansh to;” "Yes, I noticed," he said, nodding and smiling. "You were almost flashing your tits and your cunt at the; the patrons;” "They can peek; but no touchy;” she said, taking another drink. "Thish pushy; only for you; I think; we'll shee;” She turned and looked at him, her eyes glazed and her skin flush from her exertions. "We're here; together, Mark, but; if you; ya' shee a girl ya' wanna fuck; I'm okay with; with that. "Jus' don' get the crabs!" She had broken into a snickering fit, pressing her forehead against the table as she tried to not fall over completely. Mark was chuckling and feeling really good watching how silly his teacher was being. She looked up suddenly, trying to wear a serious expression. "But one thing," she cautioned, holding up a finger and wagging it at one of the Marks she was looking at. There were three of them, so she chose the one in the middle. "No, moren one thing, but th' one thing'sh; important;” She leaned forward to whisper to him. "Keep your dicky in your pantsh unlesh; unlesh you know she'sh eighteen; 'cush the lawsh right now; 'she prolly legal to fuck 'em younger; but; you're from our time; our time;” She glowered at him drunkenly. "An' we don' fuck 'em if they're not eighteen; ya' got it?" He nodded. "Eighteen or older. Got it. And you can; miss, you can' "Not mish," she interrupted, waving away his comment. "Becky. Not fuckin' mish, remember?" "Sorry," he intoned, letting out a belch and patting his chest. The wine and cheese tasted great but were really fucking with him. "I'll be better; remember;” "Well, what wash it I can do?" she asked. "You were gonna; shay; I could do; what wash it?" Mark thought about that for a moment, unable to push through the wine-induced haze in his head. "I don' remember;” They both broke into laughter, much to the amusement of nearby patrons. Becky had her head on the table again, giggling until Mark slammed his palm on it in an expression of entertainment, shocking her and making her yelp. They looked at one another and burst into more fits of laughter. They'd drained another jug and polished off the pig and pheasants. Mark felt incredibly full, and drunk. Becky could barely stand up and she asked Mark to take her arm and lead them over to the proprietor behind the long counter once again. She shook her head a few times to clear it and he waited patiently for her to speak. "Shir, we'll be needing the bath now, and our room," she said slowly, making sure she could be understood. "Would you be so kind ash to show ush the way?" He tilted his head slightly. "Comment?" "You just spoke to him in English, Becks." Mark told her. Her glassy eyes widened and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to die of embarrassment. "For fuck's sakes;” she muttered. She took a deep breath and repeated herself in labored French. He nodded and led them up the back, away from the common room. It took Becky fifteen minutes to get up the single flight of stairs because it wouldn't stop spinning. Mark sighed as he sat in the large, round wooden tub, his arms resting on the side while his hands gripped the rim. The steaming water splashed over the side as he shuddered and groaned loudly, cumming. Spent, he sank back onto the small ledge and breathed heavily. The water stirred and Becky surfaced, exhaling. Her golden hair clung to her wetly and her glorious tits glistened. She grinned at her student. "See?" she declared, obviously pleased as she pulled her hair over her shoulders. "Told you I could make you cum before having to surface for air." "Jesus, you must've been down there over two minutes," he breathed, never ceasing to be stunned by her carnal skills. "How the hell do you hold your breath that long?" Becky cricked her neck and settled onto Mark's lap, her arms around his neck. She gave him a peck on the nose. "Lots of cardio and physical training." "Obviously." Mark agreed. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." "Hmm, didn't think you would," she purred. "But only half of this equation has been solved, big boy. I haven't cum yet. Since you're friend down there is taking a nap, how good are you at holding your breath?" "Not that good," he chuckled. "I'm happy to lick your cunt, but you'll need to keep it above water." She smiled and rolled her eyes before getting off his lap. He moved aside and allowed her to kneel on the little ledge he'd been sitting on, leaning over the rim of the tub and resting her forearms on it. She looked back at him and winked while wiggling her sexy, toned behind him. Her cuntlips were dripping and looked inviting. Mark knelt in the middle of the tub, behind Becky's ass and took hold of it, kissing the wet cheeks. Becky cooed and squirmed under the attention, one of her hands cupping a tit and squeezing it. She could feel Mark's lips and tongue moving slowly inward toward her core. She bit her lip and sighed. He touched her cunt, kissing it gently and sliding his tongue up and down the twat, which parted easily before him. Her heard her moan and tasted her tang as he pushed inside her while using his thumbs to pull her inner thighs apart so he could get further into his teacher's snatch. She shivered and pushed back against him, eager for more. "Hmm, Mark;” she cooed, her eyes shut as she felt his tongue inside her. "Yes, right there, lover. Oh, you really know how to use your tongue;” He smiled at her compliment and pulled his tongue out to massage her clit with it, rolling around the little bud and making her gasp sharply. He slid a finger inside her, followed by another and she groaned. He could feel her cunt tightening around his digits and began to push them back and forth slowly while he nibbled and sucked her clit. Becky shuddered again and leaned down, biting at her knuckle while squeezing her tit harder, massaging it vigorously. Mark lashed her clit while fingering her tight twat and then slid a single finger into her ass. Her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the ledge of the tub, her fingers raking along the iron-bound wood. "Fuck, Mark," she whimpered. "Yes, make me cum. I want to cum in your mouth!" Mark worked her cunt harder, sliding the fingers back and forth, pushing in deeper each time. His tongue massaged her clit relentlessly or he sucked on it. She was squirming and writhing back against him, groaning unashamedly. He was beyond caring if anyone heard them at this point. Becky was panting heavily now, her eyes glazing over as she ground her ass against Mark's face, feeling his fingers in her cunt and her ass, wiggling and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She would miss his cum inside her, but she would surely get it before long, Mark was developing good stamina under her guidance. She arched her back and moaned loudly as she began to cum, pleasure blossoming through her from her cunt and out to her fingers and toes. Her body shook while she climaxed, the wet, gooey ecstasy of colors in her mind letting her; Invasion. There was a smash, like wood splintering, the creak of worn metal. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, the unreal delight of her orgasm draining away as men in masks and dark clothes surged into the room, at least five of them and more shadows in the hallway. Most were holding knives or small clubs, but she saw the one in front carrying a heavy flintlock pistol. Even in the darkness of the room, lit only by candles around the wall, she could see the wicked scar on his cheek. "Arrêtez! Reste tranquille et je ne te tuerai pas!" he rasped, pointing his pistol at her while his comrades moved into the room and began searching for something. "Qui es-tu?" Becky demanded, getting angry not only about the intruders, but the fact that her orgasm was slipping away. She could feel Mark still kneeling behind her, looking on in shock at what was happening. "Tais-toi, salope!" the man barked, moving toward her and drawing a wicked knife from his belt, his men now ransacking the room. He placed the point of the knife at her throat and Mark felt a cold fear run up his spine. "Do not speak to me in that tone if you' He never finished the sentence as Becky grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted, hard. The man with the scar yelped as he lost his grip on the knife and the blonde woman leapt out of the tub, her knee smashing into his face. He staggered backward and then went flying as her foot slammed into his ribcage. He crashed through a table and this got the attention of the thugs he'd brought with him. They all looked in shock at the naked blonde tigress for a moment and then surged in on her, knives and cudgels ready. "A little help here, hero!" Becky shrilled as she scampered away from the incoming bandits. "This isn't sex, don't make me do all the work!" "Hey now!" Mark protested, half-rising out of the relative protection of the tub because of her taunt. "It's not like you do all' "Goddammit, Mark!" Becky shouted as she ducked the swing of a club and punched her attacker in the balls. "You'd better hope they kill us, because if I survive, I'm going to crack open your skull and suck your brain out with a straw! Help me!" Mark came to his senses and vaulted over the side of the tub, trying not to think about the fact that he was buck naked and rushing toward his teacher and her assailants. He crashed into the smallest man, bearing him to the ground and winding him. Not sure what else to do, he began punching the bandit, knocking his cloth mask askew so he could not see. The man struggled wildly to get out from underneath his naked foe. "Huh!" Mark choked out as another thug grabbed him by the throat from behind and started pulling him off the man he was on top of. He could feel his tongue beginning to bulge out of his mouth and was thinking he must look incredibly foolish, like Jabba the Hutt when Princess Leia strangled him with the chain. He couldn't die like that. He couldn't. With a limp dick and a swollen tongue? In front of Becky? He'd taken some karate, although he was no expert. His skin was still wet and he went limp, using sudden deadweight to break his attacker's hold on his throat, although he hissed in pain when he felt the man's ragged nails crease through his skin as he lost his grip. With a thud! Mark hit the floor and did the only thing he could think of doing; he grappled onto the man and took him down in a rough tumble. He desperately rolled until he was on top and rammed his knee into the man's stomach. He heard the man wheeze but then sparks exploded behind his eyes as something cracked across the back of his head. He didn't fall over but scrambled away in a panic, wishing he could see in the darkness or that the room would stop spinning. Becky landed in a heap on top of him, knocking him back to the floor. She was still naked and incredibly angry from the sounds of her. "That's it, buster!" she roared as she surged back to her feet and charged her attacker. Mark dazedly looked over and watched as his teacher sprinted across the room, her foe giving chase. She leapt in the air and to the wall, her foot making contact. Before anyone was ready, she sprang backward, smashing her foot across the man's jaw in a roundhouse kick that they must have heard on the edge of town. The man went down like a sack of flour. "Alright, who's next?" she shouted, standing in the middle of the room, naked and scratched up. She grabbed a pewter jug and slammed it backward into the head of a man coming up behind her. He went down. "I didn't know you did parkour!" Mark called out as he tackled another thug from behind, taking him to the floor. "I do a lot of things to take out my sexual frustrations!" she snapped back, picking up a bench and throwing it at two assailants to keep them off-balance. "Parkour, jiu-jutsu, archery, Krav-Maga. I was kind of hoping that fucking would allow me to vent a little steam!" "I can see why!" Mark said as he smashed the man's face into the floor repeatedly. Even in his weirdest dreams, he'd never imagined fighting French bandits while buck naked. He wondered if the Temporal Enforcement Agency would be up his ass about this incident. "Oh, shut up!" she shrilled, kicking a man between the legs from behind and then suplexing him after he doubled over in pain. The floor splintered with the impact, but Becky rolled to her feet and grabbed his cudgel. "You still owe me an orgasm, mister!" "Okay, okay!" Mark said hastily. A sallow man confronted him, wearing an eye-mask, who brandished a knobbed club. The bandit grinned at him, clearly intent on bashing his head in. Thinking quickly, Mark stood and looked somber, clasping his fist in his hand and bowing, like they did in his mom's tai chi class. The bandit looked confused for a moment before Mark bowed again and then made a motion urging the bandit to do the same. Still not sure what was happening but wanting to get on with things, the bandit bowed at the waist clumsily. Mark broke a chair over his head before grabbing the cudgel and rushing to Becky's side. "So very nice of you to join me," Becky panted as they faced off against the three remaining intruders, who were trying to surround them. Mark and Becky backed up toward the outer wall, the window behind them. The men closed in. There was a groan and a clatter as the man with the scar on his cheek slowly got to his feet from the pile of broken furniture he'd been laying in and approached them, his henchmen parting to make way for him. "Pour votre arrogance, je vous verrai mort." he growled, pointing his pistol at Mark. Trapped, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; click! Mark blinked and opened his eyes. The scar-faced man was scowling at his pistol, which was letting off a small tuft of smoke but had failed to go off. Was the powder wet? With a roar of fury, Becky was on him. "Get the other three!" she yelled as she rearranged his face. "I've got this one!" Too bewildered to be afraid and exhilarated to be alive, Mark charged the remaining three thugs, who were all backing away in confusion. None of this had gone according to plan, the majority of their fellow bandits were strewn around the room, beaten unconscious by a naked man and a crazy blonde hellion with big tits and a shaved cunt. "C'est des conneries!" she raged as she beat the man around the room, showing no mercy. "I came to the Sun King's France to drink wine, have a good time and get laid! And you fuckers just had to try and rob me, didn't you? All sorts of peasants to pick on, but no! You thought you'd get lucky with two strangers! Well va te faire enculer, pal!" Mark lost track of the whirlwind of violence his teacher had become while he ducked the swipe of a knife and then kicked the leg out from under a thug, dislocating his knee and dropping him. He whirled around and got lucky with the cudgel, cracking it across the jaw of another man, who spun like a top and fell to the ground. He was beginning to notice that he was taller than just about all these men, often by a significant margin. Some were barely taller than Becky. Had nutrition really been that bad in this era? The last one got desperate and lunged at him, but Mark twisted and used his foe's momentum to send him sailing past and smashing into the window. The unconscious man slumped halfway through the shutter and the sounds of commotion in the street below reached him. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were causing a stir. He looked around the room to see if any other foes were standing, but saw only sprawled bodies everywhere, some stirring slightly. The only other sound was that of a face being punched. He looked over to see Becky squatting on the scarred man's chest, grappling into his collar and socking him repeatedly in the mouth while swearing in French. "Nique ta mere!" thump! "Oh, you really pissed me off!" she growled as she huiled the man up by the shirt and dragged him stumbling over to the tub, where she pushed his head under the water. He thrashed about in a panic before she let him back up, gasping for air. "You like that?" she shouted, thumping his head off the side of the tub several times for emphasis. "Ya' think it's funny to barge into a girl's room when she's about to get her rocks off? Is that it?" She shoved his head back underwater again, waiting until he was thrashing around in terror again before pulling him back out and dragging him over to the bed. She threw him against it so that he was kneeling, supported by the straw-stuffed mattress as he swooned. "Hold him down, Mark;” she growled. Unsure of what to do aside from comply, Mark got on the bed and pinned the man's arms against the mattress, putting all his weight on them to keep him in place. He watched in growing confusion as Becky knelt behind the man and yanked his breeches down, exposing his pock-marked behind. She found his flintlock pistol and glared at it for a moment before fiddling with the mechanism, cocking it. The man's eye flared wide and he howled in pain and horror as she pushed the barrel inside his ass. "Alright, buttercup," she said with a sweetness that oozed cruelty. "You're going to explain who told you to come and rob us. And if you don't, I pull the trigger and put your brains on the ceiling." Mark warily shuffled aside on the bed, away from the top of the man's skull. "Do you understand me?" Becky asked quietly, giving the pistol a jiggle. "Probably not," Mark said, trying to sound conciliatory. "You're speaking English again." Becky realized he was right and swore under her breath. Rather than say it all again in French, she decided to just get to the point. She pressed the pistol in an inch further, ignoring the resistance she encountered. "Dites-mois qui vous a envoye," she growled. "Tell me or I blow an asshole in the top of your head." "Henri!" the scar-faced man gasped and whimpered. "He told us you would be here and you have much money!" "Oh, did he now?" Becky growled, forgetting to speak French as she glared at the bandit. "I am going to eat that man's children;” She roughly grabbed the man and spun him around to face her, without removing the pistol muzzle from his ass. His face was pale with fright and artfully rearranged by her fist. He was still leaning back against the bed, not daring to move, breathing heavily. "Maintenant," Becky began, still glowering at him. "You're going to tell me where to' She paused as she looked down at the man's crotch and saw that he was sporting a throbbing erection. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted angrily, yanking the pistol out of his ass and then slamming the grip across his head with a loud crack! The bandit's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped to the ground, very unconscious. "Huh," Mark said as he glanced down at the prone villain. "I guess guys really can get erections from that sort of thing. I thought it was bullshit." "It ought to be, under these circumstances," Becky groused, folding her arms and looking pissed off. "You don't spring wood when a girl's got a gun shoved up your ass, especially after you try to rob her! I don't feel the least bit bad about not giving him a reach-around. Fucker;” "Would you really have pulled the trigger and blown his brains out?" he asked somewhat nervously. "Oh, of course, not," she snorted, giving him a wry look. "I'm not a monster." "You sure fight like one." Mark said, using his hand to indicate the carnage around the room. Bad guys were strewn everywhere, and he was pretty sure he couldn't claim most of them. "Well, they had it coming," she sniffed. "They interrupted my orgasm. It's just rude." She then turned and looked at him, her expression much softer. "Thank you, Mark, for all your help. You saved me, I couldn't have done it on my own." "Yeah, well, you wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't brought you here in that damn time machine." Mark said, a feeling of guilt washing over him. She knelt next to him on the bed and hugged him close, their bodies pressing together. She smiled at him and kissed his nose. "Don't be sad," she cooed. "I haven't had this much adventure in ages." Mark smirked. "If you've got romps in your past that compare to this, I wanna hear about them." "Oh, you'll need to do a lot more fucking to coax those out of me, young man," she whispered, reaching down between them to take gentle hold of his cock and begin stroking. "But maybe I won't make it too difficult for; Mark, it's very rude to stare off into space while a girl is trying to seduce you. Mark?" "I'm not staring off into space, Becks." Mark said, staring past her shoulder. "Oh, really?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking annoyed, still kneeling in front of him. "Then what is so fascinating that even my tits can't distract you?" He indicated a direction behind her with a nod. "Voyeurs." Becky turned her head slowly and looked across the room at the door. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed several dark shapes in the hallway, gazing into the room in astonishment. With a sigh, she got off the bed, grabbed a candle that hadn't been destroyed and walked over to the door, clearly beyond caring that she was still naked. She could see men and women now, backing up uncertainly at her approach. She also spied one particular silhouette, large and with a big beard, lurking near the back and trying to not be seen. "Oh no you don't, pal," she called out, snapping her fingers and then pointing at the man before making a beckoning motion. "Get your sorry ass over here;” Henri, the peasant girls, and hospitality. Mark sighed in pleasure and took another drink from the jug of wine he was holding, trying to not spill any. He pulled his lips away and looked down his body. He was sitting in a large, plush bed, blissfully naked. Between his legs, a local girl with dark brown hair girl was bobbing her mouth up and down on his cock ardently, clearly interested in pleasing him. "This one's the innkeeper's daughter?" he mused, enjoying her mouth. She paused sucking on him for a moment to look up and smile eagerly before returning to her task. "She loves cock for sure." "She's one of his daughters," Becky agreed, propped up beside him, equally naked and holding the head of a girl who was lying between her legs, her face buried in the blonde's cunt, which she was licking hungrily. "This is the other one." "You frightened him so badly that he's letting us fuck his daughters?" Mark laughed. "He's given us his personal quarters, given us all the food and drink we want and we can fuck his daughters?" "What can I say, I'm persuasive." Becky grunted, shivering and grinding herself into the face of the daughter. "He'll let us stay for the week, he doesn't want word getting around that a noble had a fiasco in his inn. He'd probably give us his wife, too, if I demanded it. We're too close to Paris and word would get around and wreck his business." "If trashing that room and leaving bandits everywhere doesn't, nothing would." Mark breathed, holding the girl by the hair. "Seriously, it looks like Metallica stayed in that room now. What'll we do about that Henri asshole?" "I'll think of it later, I'm a little busy." Becky hissed, squirming and knotting her fingers in the peasant girl's hair. "Uh, it's been so long, since a girl ate me." "You had a sexy phase? I didn't know you liked girls." Mark said, smirking at her. "Back in high school, maybe," Becky admitted. "Haven't been with one since then." "But I do have a question," he said, focusing past the daughter's wicked mouth. "In all the hassle and afterward, I never asked the innkeeper how old his daughters were." "So?" Becky gasped, eyes squeezed shut and bucking her hips. "Well, what if they're not eighteen? You said yourself that we have to hold ourselves to the standards of the time we come from, right?" "You're thinking of that now?" she groaned through clenched teeth. "I; fuck; Mark, it's 1640 right now. That means these girls can't be any less than three hundred and ninety-two in our time. Good enough?" "Good enough!" he laughed. Rationalization seemed to be a handy skill when you were time travelling. He looked over and saw Becky pull the girl away from her crotch and rustle over to him. He stayed still while she straddled his lap, facing down his body. With one hand, she took hold of his cock and held it steady while she positioned herself above it. The two sisters, every bit as naked as them, nestled on the bed below his legs, pressing against one another's sides. They grinned at one another and kissed, their tongues tangling as they waited for Becky to continue. With a sigh, his teacher lowered herself onto his cock, the mushroom head splitting her wet lips before sliding inside her. She sunk down with a groan until he was in to the hilt. She then slowly laid herself back against him, allowing Mark fondle her tits while she squirmed and writhed on him. The sisters moved in and began licking at his cock or kissing her cunt lips and clit while the two guests fucked. "Oh, Heaven;” Becky purred as she caressed his cheek, turning her head to kiss him, their tongues slithering around while she undulated slowly on his lap. "This is what time travel's all about;” Mark held her with one hand, fondling her tits and pinching her nipples while his other hand found the wine jug and poised it just over her torso. She hummed in pleasure as he trickled the dark red liquid over her fair skin, letting it cascade down her exquisite form. One of the sisters noticed and knelt up, beginning to lick it off Becky's tits and stomach while the other noisily slurped it from the Mark's cock and Becky's cunt. "God, forget the Sun King's France, we belong in Caligula's Rome," Becky moaned, shivering in delight at how decadent they were being. "We'll need to; hmm; we'll need to find time to attend an orgy, Mark; how's your Latin?" "Not as good as yours, I imagine," he replied, his tongue still swirling around with hers while they fucked. "But I'd be happy to learn it if we can attend a real orgy." He put the jug of wine aside and used both hands to molest her again, squeezing her tits and gripping her skin. Becky writhed and him, pressing down with her hips, shuddering as the two sisters licked her and nipped at her skin. She begged the universe n

Matt learns about the internet.

En anticipation de la sortie de One Battle After Another, les Voyeurs s'attaquent à Punch-Drunk Love de Paul Thomas Anderson! Aussi au programme Délivrez-nous du mal de Jean-Claude Lord, Compartiments tueurs de Costa-Gavras, Horror Express d'Eugenio Martin, Eastern Condors de Sammo Hung et le documentaire How To Rob A Bank!

The RPGrinders are back for the second week using a new platform. So, we humbly beg forgiveness for all of the new problems that have overlapped the old ones. At the very least, we ask that you blame Frank for all audio issues. Eric and Break take no accountability for issues here in. :p Issues be damned, the Grinders have a show to do! There is JRPG news that must be brought to the listeners attention and most of the Grinders are here to spread the word. Without the voices of the Grinders people would have to read for themselves about some of the upcoming releases. Games like Ys Vs Trails in the Sky: Alternative Saga and a physical copy of Metal Slug Tactics are releasing this year. Looking towards the horizon that is 2026 will see the releases of Fire Emblem: Fortunes Weave and Monster Hunters Stories 3. The format may be new but that doesn't mean everything needs to change. The movie reviews are back, and one of them is an 80s classic. Break goes back nearly 40 years to review the Sigourney Weaver starring classic, Aliens. Along with the classic action title Frank has some new movie reviews. Will Dangerous Animals, the Toxic Avenger, or Voyeurs be considered classics in the 2060s? Only time will tell. (I am highly disappointed in myself for using that joke.)  Will we even have a country in 2060? The reality in America is increasingly looking grim. This week's Stinkos are headlined by the murder of a political firebrand who was known for spreading lies and bigotry. One political party seems to be using this murder as their excuse to justify some of the horrible plans they foreshadowed in Project 2025. These were always going to be the plans. They were just looking for the excuses. They thought they had found the perfect excuse this time, but the reality wasn't what they wanted. When reality doesn't fit their narrative, they rewrite the narrative. The RPGrinders do not justify murder, even if the victim did. A little bit of a shortened show but the Grinders don't want to end on such a sad note. Instead, they end with the Sweetos! Among those is the return of Frank and Break's favorite sport, American Football. The NFL is back and starting with a bang. It's a needed mental distraction from the world falling apart around us. We all need mental stress breaks, just don't let them distract from what is truly important. As things are seemingly getting more tense by the day, the future of this country looks bleak. Is it destined to fall like the many empires that have come before? Will this be the country that starts the spark that begins WW3? Is Break being paranoid and delusional, or is America still fighting a civil war against the legacy of the Confederacy?                I must find Harmie. His sweet melodies will help us get through these trying times!         I wanted to call the episode "White on White Violence" but I think that might get me in trouble.

We travel to the States and almost give Jet Blue oral. We stare at braless women, hunt vanillas, have a couple foursomes, attend a weekend Friction hotel party and have a life changing experience on the 6th floor. We strike gold when we leave the curtains open in hopes that someone on the street catches a glimpse of our sexy foursome. He'll never look at the handicapped the same. We talk about the different types of lifestyle parties, using sexy Venn diagrams to help you manage expectations. Richard avoids being raped by a sex-starved Venom ™ vixen. He has PTSD from not being violated. Join us at FLIRT 2026 in Isla Mujeres, Cancun, Mexico - February 11-16, 2026! Don't book Desire without asking me for a rate first! Check our sponsors:Shivers.store (10% promo code: R77) Mushroom GUMMIES are here! Stay awake with Cordyceps, maca, L-arginine, and Horny Goat Weed to keep the party going!BikiniAddiction.com (10% promo code: ROOM77) Skip plastic surgery and try Bikini Addiction instead!Patreon Help us #keepitupSAVE ON Desire / Temptation /Hedo trip* book with Lauren and get a free Bikini Addiction bikini! ROOM77LIFE.COM ROOM77EVENTS.COM

On this break episode 178 of Floating Through Film, we're reviewing Hitchcock's classic Rear Window, and then a Rear Window inspired film, the 2021 film The Voyeurs (48:44). We hope you enjoy!Episode Next Week: Rear Window + The Voyeurs Music:- Intro: Rear Window( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=460kqdhminI&ab_channel=SoundtrackGems)- Outro: The Voyeurs(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SELFP1iy4D4&list=RDSELFP1iy4D4&start_radio=1&ab_channel=Xenomorph) Hosts: Luke Seay (LB: https://letterboxd.com/seayluke/,Twitter: https://x.com/luke67s)Blake Tourville (LB:https://letterboxd.com/blaketourville/,Twitter: https://x.com/vladethepoker)Dany Joshuva (LB: https://letterboxd.com/djoshuva/,Twitter: https://x.com/grindingthefilm) Podcast Links:Spotify and Apple: https://linktr.ee/floatingthroughfilmLetterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/floatingfilm/Email: floatingthroughfilm@gmail.com

C'est sur un fond de chant de grillons que les Voyeurs répondent à VOS questions cher public! Est-ce-que nous proches sont affectées par notre "voyeurisme"? Est-ce-que l'auteur et le cinéma sont morts? Tout ça et encore plus!

In dieser Folge reißt uns Love Hurts (2025) mit Ke Huy Quan in seiner ersten großen Hauptrolle seit dem Oscar-Kosmos zurück in eine Action-Komödie, in der ein geläuterter Makler seiner dunklen Vergangenheit in Form von Gangstern und Ex-Liebe nicht entkommen kann.Dann geht's in Gesetz der Rache (2009): Gerard Butler als zorniger Familienvater, der sich mit brutaler Selbstjustiz am System rächt – ein Wutschrei zwischen moralischer Grauzone und überzogener Action?The Voyeurs führt uns in voyeuristische Abgründe: Ein Paar beobachtet ihre sexy Nachbarn – was als harmloser Voyeurismus beginnt, endet in blinder Bestrafung. Spannung, schiefes Verhältnis und ein drastisches Finale.Mit All The Way (2016) tauchen wir in politische Dramen ein: Bryan Cranstons Lyndon B. Johnson kämpft um Bürgerrechte – ein packendes, historisches Biopic fürs Sofa, mit Lob von Kritiker*innen und acht Emmy-Nominierungen28 Days Later (2002) – Dystopie vom Feinsten: Ein tödlicher Virus legt England lahm, während Jim durch ein menschenleeres London flieht. Atmosphärisch, intensiv, der Virus-Albtraum schlechthin.Und viele Filme mehr! Wir machen eine kleine Pause und hören uns ohne Hausaufgabe am 03. Oktober wieder! #NapalmAmMorgen

Cette semaine: le blockbuster moderne des blockbusters modernes, le film qui a brisé le cerveau de la culture populaire, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl! Yannick nous parle aussi des Schtroumpfs et du nouveau Superman alors que nos deux Voyeurs ont tous les deux vu Menteuse!

Pour célébrer la sortie en salles de Menteuse, les Voyeurs se penchent sur Liar Liar et Menteur! Aussi au programme: Warriors of Virtue, Breaking News, Guns Up et Species!

De retour d'une pause non-planifiée, les Voyeurs ont la teuf sur le coeur avec Can't Hardly Wait et À vos marques... party! Aussi au programme: Deux femmes en or, The Phoenician Scheme et Megan 2.0!

Une façon dont 40% des gens ont découvert un nouvel artiste à la Question impossible // Jeudi confession : avez-vous un côté voyeur? // Que feront les Québécois en vacances cet été? // On fait le tour de nos réseaux sociaux // Les effets du beau temps sur nous // On vous offre vos billets VIP pour Zénith le spectacle // On joue à Paroles, paroles // Carl Giroux nous ramène en 1975 //

Today's podcast begins with our steadfast host, Mike Slater, returning from illness and vacation to address Memorial Day. What's the meaning behind this holiday and how should we properly honor it? Mike has some poignant words on the subject that you'll want to hear.Following that, Slater welcomes U.S. Congresswoman Nancy Mace (R-SC-01) back to the show to talk about her recent activities in the House of Representatives which include trying to expel Rep. LaMonica McIver (D-NJ-10) for being involved with an altercation with ICE officials AND introducing legislation to combat voyeurism! Don't miss this action-packed interview with a true newsmaker!

"Ein Paar wird in einem ländlichen kalifornischen Autokino von einem unsichtbaren Angreifer brutal getötet. Die Ermittlungen werden von den Polizisten Mike Leary und John Koch übernommen. Sie befragen den ruppigen Manager des Drive-ins, Austin Johnson, und den eigenartigen Verwalter Germy. Germy erwähnt einen Spanner, der Paare und alleinstehende Mädchen beobachtet. Man rät ihm, das Nummernschild des Voyeurs beim nächsten Mal zu notieren..."

Cette semaine, les Voyeurs répondent à vos questions!

Unzipping our first episode with Ginger and Jose brings back a lot of fun memories.  What could have happened in Vegas for them, waits until they come to our club.  Some of their stories remind us of how our preparties got started.   Email your questions to Nessa here to be part of "Ask Nessa". Please subscribe on your favorite podcast platform. You can catch us on SLSRadio every Wednesday at 4pm Eastern Time. You can find tons of amazing lifestyle show on FullSwapRadio, including our show, Every Wednesday at 6:30pm and Midnight Eastern Time. We are now hosts on the Swinger Society Discord Server as well. If you have your own sexy stories, please call our hotline and share them with us and our audience. 844-4-Hump-Day If you have any questions for us, please email us at humpdayquickies@gmail.com Visit our website as well.  HumpDayQuickies.com Please follow us on all the social platforms: Twitter - HumpDayQuickies Instagram - HumpDayQuickies FaceBook - HumpDayQuickies TikTok - HumpDayQuickies We are adding new content as quickly as we can!  

Kate and Christina discuss consensual Doritos, a shared moment of vulnerability, and favorite neighborhood haunts.

Let’s get dirty and honest about our often voyeuristic relationship with the divine — and how prayer can profoundly disrupt and enrich our everyday lives. Explore the curious phenomena of spiritual fascination from a safe distance and the transformative power of genuine engagement with the divine through prayer. Rev. Ryan Dunn uses relatable analogies, like … Continue reading "[148] Spiritual voyeurs and engaging with the Divine"

Franjo est un peu traumatisé de son voyage en Chine, donc il voulait absolument partager ça avec nous.Note et commente le podcast voyons.

Front Row Classics welcomes celebrated author and filmmaker, Laurent Bouzereau. Laurent has penned a new book celebrating the work of Brian DePalma. "The DePalma Decade" takes a look at seven defining films from 1972-1981. Laurent uses analysis, production histories & recollections of cast, crew and DePalma himself to tell the story of films such as Carrie, Obsession and Dressed to Kill. "The DePalma Decade: Redefining Cinema with Doubles, Voyeurs and Psychic Twins" is available wherever books are sold from Running Press. LAURENT BOUZEREAU is an award-winning filmmaker and best-selling author. His credits include the feature documentaries Music by John Williams; Faye, about legendary actress Faye Dunaway; Mama's Boy, based on the best-selling memoir by Dustin Lance Black; Natalie Wood: What Remains Behind; and the acclaimed Netflix series Five Came Back, based on the ebook by Mark Harris. He is the author of several books on cinema, including Steven Spielberg: The First Ten Years and The De Palma Decade. Bouzereau and his husband, Markus Keith, run Nedland Media, a production company based in Los Angeles.

Hindi Horror Halloween turns 10! And for this landmark entry in our longest running series, we're going back to the beginning and giving horror auteur Ram Gopal Varma another chance... to scare us! Show notes: This our tenth Hindi Horror Halloween! We still know nothing about Ram Gopal Varma Bollywood Drafts Erin thinks Matt just remembers that David Cronenberg made a film with Marilyn Chambers Raat Sam Raimi's shaky cam How this movie redefined Bollywood horror INTERVAL ("Barbie Girl" from Kaun?) Kaun? The horror of being home alone Manoj Bajpayee just wants a sandwich and to watch TV Ittefaq and Signpost to Murder NEXT TIME: We are taking a break, see you in December! Find us on Apple Podcasts! and Stitcher! and audioBoom! and iHeartRadio! and Spotify! and Google Podcasts! and Saavn! and Hubhopper! Thank you to Becca Dalke for the artwork! Follow us on Twitter! Like us on Facebook!

Although infrequent movie watchers might be most familiar with filmmaker Brian De Palma's Scarface and Mission Impossible, his most prolific era actually came between 1972-1981, which is what filmmaker and book author Laurent Bouzereau refers to as “The De Palma Decade” in his new book of the same name. Beginning with De Palma's 1972 film Sisters, and ending with his 1981 film Blow Out, Bouzereau break down the iconic filmmaker's themes and thought process when developing each work within this decade. For this week's FilmWeek feature, we'll sit down with Laurent Bouzereau, author of the new book “The De Palma Decade: Redefining Cinema with Doubles, Voyeurs, and Psychic Teens,” and get into how this pioneer of New Hollywood cinema made his mark.

Today on AirTalk, a look at the tourism pull of Shohei Ohtani. Also on the show, the history of the Central Avenue Jazz Festival; we chow down on handcrafted English toffee and caramels with the owner of Littlejohn's; our FilmWeek critics review the latest release; Larry interviews the author of the new book ‘The De Palma Decade: Redefining Cinema with Doubles, Voyeurs, and Psychic Teens;' and more. Shohei Ohtani makes baseball history (00:17) The history behind the Central Avenue Jazz Festival (18:00) Tasting handcrafted English toffee and caramels with Littlejohn's Candies (36:13) Our FilmWeek critics review the latest releases (51:28) Larry interviews the author of the new book ‘The De Palma Decade' (1:22:32)

Gloria J. Browne Marshall welcomes Jarret Berg to talk about Voting; Manuel Gomez to discuss a case of bathroom voyeurs and Kim Westcott to share efforts of activism. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/gloria-j-browne-marshall/support

Das erste mal bei WQF, zwei Personen die sich mit Film auskennen und ihn natürlich auch lieben. Hakan und Dennis. (00:00:00) Was bedeutet schon Urlaub. (00:05:18) The Bikeriders (00:11:00) A Most Wanted Aan (00:20:30) Influencer - Tau niemanden dem du folgst (00:29:28) Nimona (00:36:12) Richy Guitar (Die Ärzte) (00:42:35) The Voyeurs (00:48:27) I Saw the TV Glow (01:01:03) Apocalypse now (01:12:05) Offseason - Insel des Grauens (01:22:05) Clifford - Das kleine Scheusa (01:28:00) History of the Occult (01:31:05) Fargo(01:36:06) River: The Timeloop Hotel Dennis LETTERBOXD: https://letterboxd.com/shotbyshot/ INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/shotbyschott86/ TWITTER: https://twitter.com/shotbyshot86 https://letterboxd.com/hakan_bros/ https://letterboxd.com/cinemavolante/ SOCIAL https://www.facebook.com/wirquatschenueberfilme/ https://www.instagram.com/wir_quatschen_ueber_filme/ Merch https://cinemavolante.myspreadshop.de/ cinemaVOLANTE http://www.cinemavolante.de http://www.patreon.com/cinemavolante https://www.youtube.com/@cinemavolante

Ta webcam est prête ? Tu vas donner un show sexy...C'est une séance de webcam, mais je ne te parle pas d' une simple visio avec une amie ou même  avec moi. Non. Pour quelques minutes,  je vais t'aider à devenir Cam girl. Le jeu est simple. Une caméra te filme sur ton lit. Des dizaines, des centaines d'inconnus te matent, et certains même t'envoient des messages grâce au Chat mis à leur disposition...Tu imagines tous ces yeux rivés   sur toi, et tu sais que le moindre de tes geste est pour eux une invitation à rêver. Tous voudraient être avec toi, contre toi. Les 669 personnes qui te regardent te trouvent séduisante. Leur désir te touche, t'enveloppe. Tu les entends presque te murmurer à l'oreille  combien ils te trouvent belle, combien ils aimeraient être à tes côtés.Le Son du Désir est là pour t'aider à vous détendre et à te faire du bien !Un épisode immersif Le Son du Désir ça ne se refuse pas !Pour en profiter de façon non censurée, et en entier :C'est très simple, il suffit de te rendre sur www.lesondudesir.fret de t'abonner !Là, tu pourras choisir de t'abonner au mois ou à l'annéeEnsuite tu auras accès à plus de 300 audios, en illimité pendant la période de ton choix.Le Son du Désir, c'est TON moment perso, en audio !www.lesondudesir.frHébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

durée : 00:03:10 - Sous les radars - par : Sébastien LAUGENIE - Pour lutter contre le fléau du voyeurisme dans le sport, l'entreprise japonaise Mizuno a développé pour les athlètes japonaise qui vont participer aux Jeux olympiques des maillots capables de résister aux caméras infrarouges.

durée : 00:03:10 - Sous les radars - par : Sébastien LAUGENIE - Pour lutter contre le fléau du voyeurisme dans le sport, l'entreprise japonaise Mizuno a développé pour les athlètes japonaise qui vont participer aux Jeux olympiques des maillots capables de résister aux caméras infrarouges.

Whilst Jay is on Vacation we grab our old buddy, bandmate and voiceover boy Nick. Whilst Jay is on Vacation we grab our old buddy, bandmate and voiceover boy Nick.We dig in on Conspiracies, Social Algos, Reality TV, Orbs, Nibiru, Wrestling, Drinking Excessively, Bands, Snake Oil Beard Tools, Yard Care, DNA Test, Disney Adults, Hunting Elk, Getting Sick of yourself, Spam Calls, World of Warcraft Obsessions, Staying in Irish Castles, Castles were a nightmare back in the day, and more! Segments:  "Look at This!" Visit us at http://funtimeboys.com/ - NFHCPodcast.com for everything NFHC Studios Support the show by subscribing to our Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/NFHCStudios Leave us a voicemail anytime at 480-788-7330 Apple Podcast: https://tinyurl.com/yapnr7cf Spotify: https://tinyurl.com/ybpo59va Youtube: https://tinyurl.com/y7va3h9a Join the NFHC Discord! https://discord.gg/xrxhQTP

Well, this could be awkward: when we last featured a story on the podcast a year ago, it also focused on parasocial relationships and included masturbation! This time around, we are again in deft hands. Marie Manilla's short story “Watchers”, set in 1968 Pittsburgh with both the steel mills and Andy Warhol as vital elements, is replete with narrative and thematic echoes that satisfy and leave us wanting more at the same time. Tune in for this lively discussion which touches on budding creative and identity-based aspirations, celebrity, performance art, pain in public and private, and much more. Give it a listen -- you know you want to! (Remember you can read or listen to the full story first, as there are spoilers! Just scroll down the page for the episode on our website.)   (We also welcome editor Lisa Zerkle to the table for her first show!) At the table: Kathleen Volk Miller, Marion Wrenn, Lisa Zerkle, Jason Schneiderman, Dagne Forrest   Listen to the story Watchers in its entirety (separate from podcast reading)   Parasocial relationships https://mashable.com/article/parasocial-relationships-definition-meaning   Andy Warhol's childhood home in Pittsburgh (the setting of this story) http://www.warhola.com/warholahouse.html   “History” article about Andy Warhol's shooting by Valerie Solanas https://www.history.com/news/andy-warhol-shot-valerie-solanas-the-factory    I Shot Andy Warhol, 1996 film https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Shot_Andy_Warhol      ** Fun Fact 1: the original poster for the 1996 film hangs in Jason's apartment.   ** Fun Fact 2: the actor who portrayed Valerie Solanas in “I Shot Andy Warhol”, Lili Taylor, is married to three-time PBQ-published author Nick Flynn.   Nick Flynn's author page on PBQ http://pbqmag.org/tag/nick-flynn/   Dangerous Art: The Weapons of Performance Artist Chris Burden https://www.theartstory.org/blog/dangerous-art-the-weapons-of-performance-artist-chris-burden/ In her fiction and essays, West Virginia writer Marie Manilla delights in presenting fuller, perhaps unexpected, portraits of Appalachians, especially those who live in urban areas. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, Marie's books include The Patron Saint of Ugly, Shrapnel, and Still Life with Plums: Short Stories. She lives in Huntington, her hometown, with her Pittsburgh-born husband, Don.   Instagram and Facebook: @MarieManilla, Author website    Watchers        Zany lies amid clutter on the floor beneath the dining room windows hugging her bandaged arm. She huffs loudly enough to reach the front porch where Mom and Aunt Vi imbibe scotch. Vi still isn't used to afternoon drinking. They can't hear Zany over the Krebbs' crying baby on the other side of the duplex wall. Stupid baby. Plus Zany's little sister overhead dancing to the transistor radio, rattling the light fixture dangling from the ceiling.        The fingertips on Zany's bandaged arm are cold and maybe even blue. This is slightly alarming. She considers running to Mom but knows better. Take the damn thing off then, Mom will say.        There's nothing wrong with Zany's arm, but that isn't the point. At breakfast, without preamble, she wound an Ace bandage from her palm to her armpit. The family no longer asks what she's up to. Last week during Ed Sullivan she sat at her TV tray dripping candle wax over her fist. Aunt Vi blinked with every splat, but Mom only said: “If you get that on my rug I'll take you across my knee. I don't care how old you are.” Zany is thirteen.        Week before, Zany taped a string of two-inch penny nails around her throat at the kitchen table where Dad rewired one of Mom's salvaged lamps. “Why don't you do that in your room?”  Dad didn't like sharing his workspace. Zany shrugged and the nail tips jabbed her collarbones.  She could have done it in her room, but doing the thing wasn't the point. It was having someone watch that mattered. If no one watched, who would believe she could endure that much discomfort?        Nobody is watching now, so Zany grips a dining table leg and pulls it toward her, or tries to. It's hard to budge through Mom's junk piles, plus the weight of the extra leaf Dad inserted when Aunt Vi and Cousin Lester moved in after their apartment collapsed. Aunt Vi brought cans of flowery air freshener to hide the hoard smell—rotten food and cat piss. They don't own a cat.  Lester, sixteen, bought a box of rubble-rescued books.        “You better be setting the table!” Mom calls through the screen.        Zany hates Mom's manly haircut and has said so. “It's Gig's turn!”        Overhead, Gig stomps the floor in the bedroom they now share. Aunt Vi got Zany's attic where Mom's hoard had been disallowed, but it's begun trickling up. “No, it's not!” Gig's transistor blares louder.        “Zany!” Mom calls. “I swear to God! And close those drapes!”        Mom can't stand looking at the neighbor's wall she could reach across and touch, but Zany craves fresh air, as fresh as Pittsburgh air can be. Plus, she likes counting the yellow bricks Andy Warhol surely counted when this was his childhood home, the dining room his make-shift sickroom when he suffered St. Vitus Dance. Zany is certain his bed would have been right here by the window where he could see a hint of sky if he cricked his neck just right. She lies in his echo and imagines the day she'll appear at his Factory door in New York City and say: “I used to live in your house.” Andy will enfold her in his translucent arms before ushering her inside, not to act in his films or screen print his designs, but to be his equal. Partner, even. Zany just has to determine her own art form. It sure won't be cutting fruit cans into flowers like Warhol's mother did for chump change.        Zany's legs start the herky-jerky Vitus dance as if she's running toward that Factory dream. Her pelvis and hips quake. The one free arm. The back of her head jitters against the floor. It's a familiar thrum even Aunt Vi and Lester are accustomed to now. Mom yells: “Stop that racket!” She mutters to Vi: “We never should have bought this place.”       A kitchen timer dings and Aunt Vi comes in to disarm it. Her cooking is better than Mom's, and Vi wears an apron and dime store lipstick while she does it. Fresh peas instead of canned. Real mashed potatoes instead of instant. Vi is a better housekeeper, too, organizing Mom's trash into four-foot piles that line the walls. Every day Mom trolls back alleys and neighbors' garbage in dingy clothes that make her look like a hobo. That's what the kids say:  Your mom looks like a hobo. She pulls a rickety cart and loads it with moldy linens, rolled-up rugs, dented wastebaskets. Zany wonders if Dad regrets marrying the wrong sister. She knows he regrets not having a son, a boy who could have been Lester if Dad had a different heart. Instead, Dad got Lester on at the blast furnace, because “No one sleeps under my roof for free.” Who needs a high school diploma?        In the kitchen, Aunt Vi lets out one of her sobs. She only does that in private after Mom's third scolding: “He's dead, Vi. Crying won't bring him back.”        Zany misses Uncle Mo, too. His pocketful of peppermints. The trick coin he always plucked from Zany's ear. The last time Zany's family visited, she walked through their decrepit Franklin Arms apartment with its spongy floors and clanking pipes, but no maze of debris to negotiate. No cat piss smell or sister blaring the radio. She found Lester in his room at a child's desk he'd outgrown, doughy boy that he then was, doing homework without being nagged.  Astounding. His room was spartan, plenty of space for a second bed if Zany asked Aunt Vi sweetly enough. But no. Zany couldn't abandon Andy in his Dawson Street sickbed. Lester's only wall decoration was a world map strung with red yarn radiating from Pittsburgh to France, China, the South Pole. She wanted to ask why those destinations, but didn't, entranced as she was by all that fresh-aired openness, plus his feverishly scribbling hand.       Now, Aunt Vi leans in the dining room dabbing her face with a dishtowel. She's aged a decade since moving here and it isn't all due to grief. She targets Zany on the floor. “Everything all right in here?”        Zany has stopped breathing. Her eyes are glazed and her tongue lolls from her mouth.  She's getting better at playing dead.        “All right then.” Aunt Vi is getting better at not reacting. The screen door slams behind her.        Zany pulls in her tongue and inhales. She starts counting bricks again until Aunt Vi calls: “There they are!” as she does every workday.        Zany pictures Dad and Lester padding up Dawson. Wet hair slicked back because they shower off the stench before coming home. Zany appreciates that. Their boots scrape the steps to the porch where Aunt Vi will take their lunchpails. And there she is coming through the door and dashing to rinse their thermoses at the kitchen sink. Mom will stay put and pour Dad a finger of scotch.        Lester bangs inside and pauses in the dining room entryway. He's leaner now on account of the physical labor. Taller too. He eyes Zany's bandaged arm, not with Aunt Vi's alarm, but with the kind of baffled wonder Zany has always been after. Their eyes meet and it's the same look he gave her the day she walked backward all the way to the Eliza Number Two—not  because Dad and Lester worked there, but because it was lunchtime, and a gaggle of men would  be eating beneath that pin oak by the furnace entrance. And there they were, her father among them, not easy to see having to crane her neck as Zany picked her way over the railroad tracks.        “What the hell is she doing?” said Tom Folsom. Zany recognized her neighbor's voice.  “She's off her nut,” said another worker.       Zany twisted fully around to see if her father would defend her, but he was already hustling back to the furnace.        “Something's not right with that girl,” said Folsom.        “Nothing wrong with her,” said Lester from beneath a different tree where he ate his cheese sandwich alone.        Folsom spit in the grass. “Shut up, fairy boy.”        Lester wasn't a fairy boy, Zany knew.        Today, leaning in the dining room, Lester looks as if he can see inside Zany's skull to the conjured Factory room she and Andy will one day share: walls scrubbed clean and painted white.  Her drawings or paintings lining the walls in tidy rows. Maybe sculptures aligned on shelves. Or mobiles overhead spinning in the breeze. Lester nods at her fantasy as if it's a good one. He has his own escapism. Zany knows that too, and she looks away first so her eyes won't let him know that she knows.        Lester heads to the cellar where he spends most of his time. Mom partitioned off the back corner for him with clothesline and a bed sheet. Installed an army cot and gooseneck lamp on a crate. Andy Warhol holed up in the cellar when he was a kid developing film in a jerry-rigged darkroom. Zany constructed one from an oversized cardboard box she wedged into that shadowy space beneath the stairs. She cut a closable door in the box and regularly folds herself inside to catalogue her achievements in a notebook. Stood barefoot on a hot tar patch on Frazier Street for seventy-two seconds. Mr. Braddock called me a dolt, but I said: You're the dolt!        From below, the sound of Lester falling onto his cot followed by a sigh so deep Zany's lungs exhale, too. Whatever dreams he had got buried under apartment rubble along with Uncle Mo.       Outside, Dad has taken Aunt Vi's creaky rocker. “He's a strange one,” he says about Lester. “What's he up to down there?”        Mom says, “Who the hell knows?”        Zany clamps her unbandaged hand over her mouth to keep that knowledge from spilling.  She saw what he was up to the day she was tucked in her box and forgot time until footsteps pounded the stairs above her. She peeked through the peephole she'd punched into her cardboard door as Lester peeled off his shirt, his pants. He left on his boxers and socks. Didn't bother to draw his sheet curtain, just plopped on the cot and lit a cigarette. His smoking still surprised her. The boy he once was was also buried under rubble. Zany regretted not making her presence known, but then it was too late with Lester in his underwear, and all. Plus, she was captivated by his fingers pulling the cigarette to his lips. The little smoke rings he sent up to the floor joists. She wondered if he was dreaming of China or the South Pole, or just sitting quietly at his too-small desk back in his apartment inhaling all that fresh air. Finally, he snubbed out the cigarette in an empty tuna can. Zany hoped he would roll over for sleep, but he slid a much-abused magazine from beneath his pillow and turned pages. Even in the scant light Zany made out the naked lady on the cover. Zany's heart thudded, even more so when Lester's hand slipped beneath his waistband and started moving up and down, up and down. She told her eyes to close but they wouldn't, both entranced and nauseated by what she shouldn't be seeing. She knew what he was up to, having done her own exploring when she had her own room. She'd conjure Andy Warhol's face and mouth and delicate hands—because those rumors weren't true. They just weren't. Harder to explore in the bed she now shared with Gig. Stupid Aunt Vi, and stupid collapsed Franklin Arms.       What Lester was up to looked angry. Violent, even. A jittery burn galloped beneath Zany's skin and she bit her lip, drawing blood. But she couldn't look away from Lester's furious hand, his eyes ogling that magazine until they squeezed shut and his mouth pressed into a grimace that did not look like joy. The magazine collapsed onto his chest and his belly shuddered. Only then did Zany close her eyes as the burn leaked through her skin. When Lester's snores came, she tiptoed upstairs to collapse on Andy's echo. She caught Lester seven more times, if caught is the right word, lying in wait as she was, hoping to see, hoping not to.  “You better be setting the table!” Mom yells now from the porch.        Zany grunts and makes her way to the kitchen where Aunt Vi pulls a roast from the oven.  Zany heaves a stack of plates to the dining room and deals them out like playing cards.  “Don't break my dishes!” Mom calls. I hate your hair, Zany wants to say.  There is a crash, but it's not dishes. It comes from overhead where Gig screams.  Thumping on the stairs as she thunders down, transistor in hand. “Zany!”  Gig rushes into the dining room, ponytail swaying, eyes landing on her sister. “He's been shot!”        Zany's mind hurtles back two months to when Martin Luther King was killed. Riots erupted in Pittsburgh's Black neighborhoods: The Hill District and Homewood and Manchester.  “Who?” Zany says, conjuring possibilities: LBJ, Sidney Portier. But to Zany, it's much worse.        “Andy Warhol!”        Zany counts this as the meanest lie Gig's ever told. “He was not.”        “Yes, he was!” Gig turns up the radio and the announcer confirms it: a crazed woman shot Warhol in his Factory.       Aunt Vi comes at Zany with her arms wide, because she understands loss. “Oh, honey.”  Zany bats her hands away. “It's not true.”        Vi backs into Mom's hoard. “Is he dead?”        Gig says: “They don't know.”        Zany can't stomach the smug look on Gig's face, as if she holds Andy's life or death between her teeth. Zany wants to slap that look off, so she does.        Gig screams.        “What the hell's going on in there?” Mom calls.        “Zany hit me!” Gig says at the very moment Aunt Vi says: “Andy Warhol's been shot!”  “No he wasn't!” Zany says again, wanting to slap them both.        Mom and Dad hustle inside where Gig cups her reddening cheek and bawls louder.  “It's nothing,” Mom says at the sight of her sniveling daughter, but Dad enfolds Gig in his arms. “There, there.”        “Don't coddle that child,” says Mom, and for once Zany agrees.        “Now, Mae.” Dad cups the back of Gig's head and there's a different look on her face.  Triumph, maybe.        Pounding on the shared duplex wall, Evie Krebbs, who never could shush that wailing baby. “Andy Warhol's been shot!” she calls to them. “Did you all hear?”        “We heard,” Mom answers as the baby cries louder, and so does Gig, who won't be upstaged. Mom says: “That's the price of fame I guess.”        “Being shot?” says Aunt Vi.        “Put yourself in the public eye and anything's liable to happen. Lotta kooks in this world.”       The neighbor kids' chant sounds in Zany's head: Your mother's a hobo.        “I'd rather be shot than a hobo,” says Zany.        Mom's head snaps back. “What the hell's that supposed to mean?”        Zany doesn't fully know what she means, or maybe she does.        Dad says, “Turn up the radio and see if he's dead.”        Zany doesn't want to know the answer, and to keep him alive she runs to the basement where Andy will always be a sickly boy developing film. Never mind Lester in his bed sending smoke rings up to the floor joists. Never mind her family still jabbering overhead.       Zany dashes to her cardboard box and closes the door, her body shaking, but not from any disease. Andy can't be dead. He just can't, because if he is Zany will never make it to New York. Will never pound on his Factory door. She will never be famous enough for someone to shoot.        She doesn't know she's sobbing until Lester's voice drifts over. “Zany?”        It's hard to speak with that hand gripping her throat and her father overhead still babbling: “Turn it up, Gig.” All Zany eeks out is a sob.        Lester's skinny voice slips through that slit in her door. “Zany?”        The grip loosens and Zany puts her eye to the peephole.        There he is, Lester, on his narrow cot in the windowless cellar where he now lives. He slides his hand into his waistband and he tilts his head toward her. “Are you watching?”  Zany's breathing settles, and the overhead voices disappear taking with them the possibility of Andy's death. Her eyes widens so she can take it all in, the violent strokes, his contorting face, because she won't look away from Lester's pain, or hers.  Finally, she answers him: “Yes.” 

PUBLIC VERSION. Filmmaker Michael Mohan (IMMACULATE, THE VOYEURS, EVERYTHING SUCKS) joins Adam, Joe, and Arwen to discuss his career journey and the making of his hit new horror film IMMACULATE (in theaters now). From seeing BACK TO THE FUTURE as a child and how the film set him on his journey of becoming a filmmaker… to going to Chapman for film studies and the indie films that made the impossible dream of becoming a filmmaker seem possible for him… to shooting and editing short films and scenes for actor friends in need of “tape” for their reels… to his trials and tribulations working on various film and television projects on his way to his first feature… to what it's been like working with actress Sydney Sweeney on multiple projects… to how he convinced the IMMACULATE producers to hire him with an extensive pitch deck… to some completely coincidental similarities that IMMACULATE shares with a certain other “neo-Nunsploitation” horror film that's currently in theaters… to his great advice on not relying only on sustainable gigs… and how he created IMMACULATE's incredible final shot… Mohan is certainly having an amazing moment and deservedly so! Also… Adam gets Sea Monkeys again after a traumatic first experience with them as a child, the group shares the first CD's they ever bought, Joe and Michael explain their philosophy on using Letterboxd, and Adam reveals his biggest personal issue with the theatrical poster for his 2010 film FROZEN in this terrifically candid conversation between three filmmakers. Meet Adam Green, Kane Hodder, and Felissa Rose from the HATCHET franchise next weekend (April 19th - 21st) at New Jersey Horror Con in Edison, NJ! For more upcoming 2024 appearances visit www.ariescope.com 

If you haven't heard of her yet, Syndney Sweeney is possibly the most sought after actress in Hollywood. She had starring roles in shows like EUPHORIA and THE WHITE LOTUS which suddenly made her a big star. With sex appeal and acting chops, and creating her own production company, she's been able to star in a number of surprise hits such as 2023's ANYONE BUT YOU. Then with her appearance on SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, her hosting gig made her become a meme. Not surprisingly her latest film, IMMACULATE (2024), has arrived in theaters with a bit of a buzz following it.Cecilia (Sydney Sweeney) heads to Italy to join a nunnery that takes care of those near the end of their life after spending their younger years taking care of the poor and sick. As a Sister, Cecilia learns the ropes and daily routine. One morning, a mysterious happening occurs that causes Cecilia to become the focus of attention to the leadership of the convent. However the strictness and rules of the convent contradict typical healthcare and her own wellbeing causing Cecilia to become concerned. Her unease makes her begin to question if things aren't what they appear to be.IMMACULATE may look to be somewhat of a throwback to the nunsploitation of the grindhouse days, but it may actually be more aligned with the French Exteme Horror films of the early 2010's. Fifty-Five Films, Sweeney's production company, bought the rights to Andrew Lobel's screenplay and brought on director Michael Mohan to direct, who she worked with on the film THE VOYEURS (2021). Receiving fairly favorable reviews, your co-hosts take a look at this theatrical release and give their thoughts.

On this SPECIAL EDITION of The Movie Podcast, Shahbaz and Anthony are joined by IMMACULATE Director Michael Mohan. In Immaculate, Sydney Sweeney stars as Cecilia, an American nun of devout faith, embarking on a new journey in a remote convent in the picturesque Italian countryside. Cecilia's warm welcome quickly devolves into a nightmare as it becomes clear her new home harbours a sinister secret and unspeakable horrors. Michael previously worked with Sydney on the film The Voyeurs (2021) and Netflix series Everything Sucks! (2018). Immaculate releases in theatres March 22, 2024 by Elevation Pictures in Canada and Neon in the United States. Watch and listen to The Movie Podcast now on all podcast platforms, YouTube, and TheMoviePodcast.ca SUPPORT THE MOVIE PODCAST ON PATREON! GET 50% FACTOR MEALS WITH CODE "MOVIEPOD50" (U.S. ONLY) Contact: hello@themoviepodcast.ca FOLLOW US Daniel on X, Instagram, Letterboxd Shahbaz on X, Instagram, and Letterboxd Anthony on X, Instagram, and Letterboxd The Movie Podcast on X, Instagram, TikTok, Discord, and Rotten Tomatoes Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In the new movie Immaculate, Sydney Sweeney plays Cecelia, an American woman who joins a convent in Italy. But after she arrives, she encounters strange occurrences and mysteriously winds up pregnant. Almost everyone in the convent touts it as a miracle, but Cecelia isn't so sure. Horror, of course, ensues. Immaculate was directed by Michael Mohan – who previously collaborated with Sweeney on the Hitchcock-esque thriller The Voyeurs.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

"Immaculate" had its world premiere at the 2024 SXSW Film Festival, where it garnered strong reviews for its dark atmosphere and gut-wrenching performance by Sydney Sweeney. Director Michael Mohan, who previously collaborated with Sweeney on "The Voyeurs," was kind enough to spend some time talking with us about the birth, design, execution, and release of his latest film. How did Giallo films influence his directing style when making this film? What challenges did he face? Will he work with Sydney Sweeney again? Please be sure to check out the film, which is opening this weekend from NEON. Thank you, and enjoy! Check out more on NextBestPicture.com Please subscribe on... SoundCloud - https://soundcloud.com/nextbestpicturepodcast Apple Podcasts - https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/negs-best-film-podcast/id1087678387?mt=2 Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/show/7IMIzpYehTqeUa1d9EC4jT YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWA7KiotcWmHiYYy6wJqwOw And be sure to help support us on Patreon for as little as $1 a month at https://www.patreon.com/NextBestPicture Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We're celebrating one full year of being unlikely partners on the podcast beat by finally getting around to what we've been told is one of the all-time great buddy cop movies. Yes it's 1989's Tango & Cash, directed by a three-headed monster of directors on a deeply troubled production but overseen in post-production by Demolition Man editor Stuart Baird, and starring Sylvester Stallone, Kurt Russell, Jack Palance, Teri Hatcher, Brion James, James Hong, Michael J. Pollard, Robert Z'Dar, Lewis Arquette, Eddie Bunker and Clint Howard. No sense sugar-coating it, she doesn't want it to be a secret: Hayley hated this movie. But J Mo still makes the case for its not-so-guilty pleasures, and we reflect on a full year of doing the show. Of course, with the Oscars on Sunday we also take a quick minute to make our picks in the major categories, leading Justin to discover that while he's now seen 100 films from 2023, he's somehow missed almost all the Oscar movies. Embarrassing. We're going heavy on Oppenheimer. Big surprise.  Other works discussed in this episode include Dune: Part Two, Robin Hood: Men In Tights,  Spaceballs, The Princess Bride, The Emperor's New Groove, Beauty and the Beast,  Aladdin, The Lion King, The Voyeurs, Deep Water, Nocturne, The Perfection, Tenet, The Fast Franchise, First Blood, Rocky, Thief, The Rocketeer, Dick Tracy, Cobra, and Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. We'll be back next week to kick off a new campaign as we're joined by Briarpatch publisher and all-around good dude John Cameron to discuss the 1972 Robert Redford political satire The Candidate, which is currently available to watch in its entirety for free on YouTube. Until then, we'll see you at the movies!!

The 96th Academy Awards are in less than a week, and a lot of ink has been spilled comparing contenders for best actor, best director and best picture. But what about less-discussed “craft categories” that reward creativity behind the scenes — like editing, costume design, cinematography and production design? We'll talk to artists in each of those fields about what their work entails and how to recognize and appreciate a bold edit or a brilliant visual aesthetic. And we'll hear from you: what's an Oscars category you'd love to know more about? Guests: Sam Restivo, editor; credits include "Napoleon," "House of Gucci," and "The Last Duel" Allison Pearce, costume designer; credits include "Paint," "Black Bear," and "Clerks 3" Olivia Peebles, production designer and set decorator; credits include “Miss Juneteenth,” “Killers of the Flower Moon,” and “Oppenheimer” Elisha Christian, cinematographer; credits include "The Night House" and "The Voyeurs"

After being horned up all month, our erotic thrillers coverage comes to a close with the wonderfully horny & stupid film The Voyeurs. We're talking about the significance of sex on screen (again lol) and modernizing the erotic thriller genre. The lesson we learned through most the films we covered this month: mind your damn business!New episodes drop every Tuesday, subscribe so you don't miss out. Rate us 5 stars while you're at it! Next week, we kick off a month celebrating horror films directed by women with American Psycho. Specter Cinema Club is now on Patreon! Enter The Phantom Zone to access all sorts of bonus goodies like our monthly side show "Watching the Watchlist", movie commentaries, and polls to help shape the podcast: https://patreon.com/spectercinemaHaunt Garrett on social media:TikTokTwitterInstagramLetterboxdYouTubeHaunt DeVaughn on social media:TwitterDread Central Saltburn EditorialTikTokInstagramLetterboxdYouTubeSpecter Cinema Club Original Theme by Andrey Kinnard

Did y'all think we were gonna talk erotic thrillers and not cover a Brian De Palma film!? The boys are joined by Kinell (Kinell's Sinister Cinema Podcast) to discuss the cult classic Body Double. We discuss the many ways this film is a subversion on the erotic thriller sub-genre, as well as De Palma's commentary on his own career. Make sure you have an extension cord handy for your comically giant drill!New episodes drop every Tuesday, subscribe so you don't miss out. Rate us 5 stars while you're at it! Next week, we keep the peeping going as we check out The Voyeurs. Specter Cinema Club is now on Patreon! Enter The Phantom Zone to access all sorts of bonus goodies like our monthly side show "Watching the Watchlist", movie commentaries, and polls to help shape the podcast: https://patreon.com/spectercinemaHaunt Kinel on Social Media:TwitterYouTubeInstagramHaunt Garrett on social media:TikTokTwitterInstagramLetterboxdYouTubeHaunt DeVaughn on social media:TwitterDread Central Saltburn EditorialTikTokInstagramLetterboxdYouTubeSpecter Cinema Club Original Theme by Andrey Kinnard

Welcome to the Nothing Shocking Podcast 2.0 episode 220 with our guest Bob Marlette, American Record Producer, Engineer, Mixer and Songwriter (Black Stone Cherry, John 5, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Rob Halford, Tony Iommi/Glenn Hughes, Black Sabbath, and more).  In this episode we discuss the early formation of the band that would become Quiet Riot; the transition from musician to producer; Facilitating the artist to the fans, and more!    For  more information visit: Advance Alternative Media:  www.aaminc.com email: bobmarlette5@gmail.com   Please like our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/nothingshockingpodcast/  Follow us on twitter at  https://twitter.com/hashtag/noshockpod.   Libsyn website: https://nothingshocking.libsyn.com For more info on the Hong Kong Sleepover: https://thehongkongsleepover.bandcamp.com Help support the podcast and record stores by shopping at Ragged Records. http://www.raggedrecords.org 

“An exhibitionist enjoys being watched. This may include exposing private parts of their body to onlookers or in a public space where someone might see or it might be indulging in play in front of an audience. It could also be more private, in a setting between a person and his/her lover/s. Exhibitionism can be combined with submission. This way a Dominate partner can order a sub to expose themselves in certain ways. They might order a sub to wear a short skirt and no knickers whilst out in public, or to wear ladies underwear under work clothes if it's a male submissive. They might ask a submissive to do something at a play event so everyone there can see. Enjoying the thrill of being exposed, exhibitionists have to be careful not to do anything illegal. It is good for exhibitionists to play at play events where people are expecting to see partially naked and naked people. They can play our their fantasies and desires in a supportive atmosphere. It is fun to play in public, but exhibitionists have to be safe and keep their activities legal when they are out where there's the possibility of members of the public seeing them.” “A voyeur gets pleasure from watching other people indulging in sexual, kinky or fetish activities. This can be in many different situations. The people or person being watched may be aware the voyeur is there or not. Depending if the voyeur is visible or hidden away. Some voyeurs like very specific situations or they may just enjoy watching and aren't bothered whether others know this or not. Voyeurs can be part of the sexy action but will often find positions where they can watch what else is going on too. A voyeur may enjoy watching themselves, employing lots of mirrors to do so or videoing themselves and their partners. A voyeur could be very focused on simply watching the action all the time or they may also want to be involved in some way. It may depend on the situation or what kind voyeurism the voyeur enjoys.” “Non-monogamists break with the societal tradition of having just one partner at a time. They will prefer to be in an open relationship. They can be called polyamorous. They don't see sex or kink as something to keep between themselves and just one other person. They can have several partners at once, these can be just for play or more serious relationships. Every non-monogamist will have different approaches to non-monogamy. Polyamorists will have, or look to be in, more than one relationship. These will be more than play and sex, and involve a romantic and/or intimate aspect. Swingers may be married or in a committed relationship with one person but they will indulge in kink or sexual play with other people too. Swingers can be single, it's not all about wife-swapping. Anyone not in a monogamous relationship can be referred as polyamorous. Non-monogamists can indulge in all kinds of fetishes and kink play. They can be Dominant, submissive or switch if they're into BDSM. They will rarely be slaves as devotion to one Master or Mistress doesn't come easy to them. However, they might work well in a relationship with multiple slaves and one or more Dominant partner.” “Switch is the BDSM term for someone who isn't always just Dominant or only submissive, they are a combination of the two. They enjoy being the top in a scene sometimes but are equally as comfortable being the bottom at other times. They have a real desire for both but may be more Dominant or more submissive. Switches don't tend to have a 50/50 split Dom or sub.” -https://www.fetish.com --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/antonio-myers4/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/antonio-myers4/support

Tune in as pod buddy Shawn Murphy (Men Who Like Men Who Like Movies Podcast) comes back to the program for a breakdown of The Voyeurs, the 2021 Prime Video erotic thriller. Talking points for this episode include the baffling egg transitions, whether or not Ross and Rachel from Friends were on a break, and Shawn's acute ability to predict twists. Written and directed by Michael Mohan, The Voyeurs stars Sydney Sweeney, Justice Smith, Natasha Liu Bordizzo, Ben Hardy, Katharine King So, Cameo Adele, and Jean Yoon. Spoilers start at 25:20 Here's how you can support the SAG-AFTRA strike (although it's depressing that Fran Drescher is a Zionist who's raised $60 million for the IDF): https://entertainmentcommunity.org/ Good Word: • Shawn: Alien: The Audible Original Dramas and Wild Things • Arthur: Flower of Evil Reach out at email2centscritic@yahoo.com if you want to recommend things to watch and read, share anecdotes, or just say hello! Be sure to subscribe, rate, and review on iTunes or any of your preferred podcasting platforms! Follow Arthur on Twitter, Goodpods, StoryGraph, Letterboxd, and TikTok: @arthur_ant18 Follow the podcast on Twitter and Instagram: @two_centscritic Follow Arthur on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/144101970-arthur-howell --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/arthur746/message

Peeping Toms have found new high-tech methods to be disgusting. I'll tell you all about them, in just one minute.

Ken Strode is a 4th quarter finical meeting so he's late for hour 2. Tim's match on Friday vs. Warson Woods Wacko. Talkin' poppy seeds. This naturally leads to class warfare between Lix and WWW. Iggy fishing for golf balls at Old Warson. How will Iggy fare in his long drive contest? HBO cancelling Winning Time. The boys talk it over. FPCC champion Dogtown Ty calls in and talks about his victory. Apparently there was a sole gentleman watching the match from a far. Who was this man and and how do we give him listener of the year? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Ken Strode is a 4th quarter finical meeting so he's late for hour 2. Tim's match on Friday vs. Warson Woods Wacko. Talkin' poppy seeds. This naturally leads to class warfare between Lix and WWW. Iggy fishing for golf balls at Old Warson. How will Iggy fare in his long drive contest? HBO cancelling Winning Time. The boys talk it over. FPCC champion Dogtown Ty calls in and talks about his victory. Apparently there was a sole gentleman watching the match from a far. Who was this man and and how do we give him listener of the year? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Here's a sneak peek at our all new full-length Patreon bonus episode on Michael Mohan's attempt to revive the Erotic Thriller, The Voyeurs (2021). Like what you hear? Head on over to www.patreon.com/horrorqueers and become a Patron for more exclusive bonus content today! Theme Music: Alexander Nakarada Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to a special bonus episode of Decorating the Set: From Hollywood to Your Home with Beth Kushnick!  We're celebrating the premiere of Insidious: The Red Door, Beth's first horror film that she's worked on, with this special bonus episode of Decorating the Set! This week, Beth and Caroline sit down with Adam Reamer, the production designer on Insidious: The Red Door. Adam was a wonderful guest with great insight into what makes a memorable and scary horror film. Insidious: The Red Door, Rated PG-13, is out TODAY, ONLY in movie theaters! The Interview with Adam begins at Time Code: 6:39. GUEST BIO: ADAM REAMER Adam's recent filmography includes Insidious: The Red Door, James Ponsoldt's film Summering for Sony/Bleeker Street, Michael Mohan's film The Voyeurs for Amazon Studios, and Catherine Hardwicke's Don't Look Deeper. Adam got his degree in architecture at Penn State University where he also focused on sculpture and art history. In New York, he started as a set carpenter and scenic artist for the studio photography industry, later managing design and construction for advertising and editorial shoots, retail environments, and events. After relocating to the West Coast and a brief foray into design-build architecture and interiors, he returned to the industry as an episodic television set designer and art director. Since then he has accrued production design credits across a variety of formats and genres. He is an active member of the Art Director's Guild (IATSE 800) and is represented by Innovative Artists. Adam lives in Portland, Oregon when he is not sailing the waters of the Pacific Northwest, but also considers himself a Los Angeles local. Follow Adam and Insidious: The Red Door on Social Media: Instagram: @ajreamer | @insidiousmovie Adam's Website (https://www.reamerdesign.com/) Insidious: The Red Door Website (https://www.insidious.movie/) ### For over 35 years, Beth Kushnick has created character-driven settings for countless award-winning television series and feature films. As a Set Decorator, she's composed visuals that both capture and enhance any story. Now, she wants to help you capture and enhance YOUR story. Join Beth and her co-host, Caroline Daley, each week as they go behind the scenes of Hollywood's magic, and give you approachable, yet sophisticated tips to realize the space that best expresses who you are. ### Follow Beth Kushnick on Social Media:  Instagram: @bethkushnick Twitter: @bethkushnick Website: DecoratingTheSet.com  Follow Caroline Daley on Social Media: Twitter: @Tweet2Caroline Website: PodClubhouse.com ### Credits: "Giraffes" by Harrison Amer, licensed by Pod Clubhouse. This is an original production of Pod Clubhouse Productions, LLC. Produced, engineered and edited at Pod Clubhouse Studios. For more information, visit our Website.

Hosts Katie Walsh and Blake Howard join multi-hyphenates filmmaker-film festival director Jason Fitzroy Jeffers and studio executive-film director-critic-programmer-screenwriter-educator Brandon Harris to talk about MIAMI VICE (2006) holding an uncomfortable mirror up to the reflection of early 2000s Miami.Join our Patreon for as little as $1 a month for an exclusive weekly podcast Rum and Rant + access to the OHM discord here.ABOUT JASON FITZROY JEFFERSJason Fitzroy Jeffers is a filmmaker from Barbados whose work focuses on giving rooted and nuanced voice to the Caribbean, pockets of subtropical Black life across the American South, and other marginalized, equatorial, Afro-diasporic spaces.As a filmmaker, he has produced award-winning shorts such as Papa Machete and Swimming in Your Skin Again that have screened at film festivals such as Sundance, BlackStar, TIFF, Sheffield and more. More recently, he co-directed the short film Drowning by Sunrise for The Intercept, and produced T, the 2020 winner of the Golden Bear for Best Short Film at Berlinale. Prior to this, Jeffers was a journalist with The Miami Herald, and his writing has also appeared in outlets such as American Way and Ocean Drive.In addition to his film work, Jeffers is also the Founding Director of the Miami-based Caribbean filmmaking collective Third Horizon, which stages the annual Third Horizon Film Festival, a showcase of cinema from the Caribbean, its diaspora, and other underrepresented spaces in the Global South. It was named one of the “25 Coolest Film Festivals in the World” in 2019 and 2021 by MovieMaker Magazine. For this and other work at the intersection of filmmaking and social justice, Jeffers was named a 2019 Ford Foundation / Rockwood Leadership Institute JustFilms fellow.Jeffers is currently in development on two feature-length projects: he is co-writing and producing Untitled Opa-locka Project, a science fiction set in inner-city Miami, which has been supported by Sundance Talent Forum, SFFILM and Cinereach; and he is also directing The First Plantation, a documentary on the fight for reparations in Barbados for which he was named a Doc Society New Perspectives fellow.ABOUT BRANDON HARRISOriginally from Cincinnati, Ohio, Brandon Harris has worked in the world of American Cinema as a studio executive and film director, critic and programmer, screenwriter and educator. Formerly a Development Executive for Amazon Studios, where he oversaw productions such as Master (2022) and The Voyeurs (2021) and acquisitions such as Blow the Man Down (2020) and Time (2020), Harris's lauded writings about cinema, politics, culture, and the intersections between them have appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, The Guardian, VICE, The Daily Beast, Variety, N+1, The New Inquiry, Brooklyn Rail, In These Times, Hammer to Nail, and Filmmaker Magazine, where he remains a contributing editor. Harris, formerly the festival programmer at the Indie Memphis Film Festival, is the director of Redlegs (2012), a New York Times Critics Pick. His genre bending mix of memoir and history Making Rent in Bed-Stuy, released in 2017 by Amistad Books, is a New York Times Book Review Editor's Choice and was named a Vogue Magazine book of the year.Join our Patreon for as little as $1 a month for an exclusive weekly podcast Rum and Rant + access to the OHM discord here.ONE HEAT MINUTE PRODUCTIONSWEBSITE: ONEHEATMINUTE.COMPATREON:ONE HEAT MINUTE PRODUCTIONS PATREONTWITTER: @ONEBLAKEMINUTE & @KATIEWALSHSTX & @OHMPODSSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/one-heat-minute-productions/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy