Whether or not our mothers like to admit it, Remy and I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for them. While I know Remy’s taste in horror was in fact influence by his mother, I can tell you my horror obsession has nothing to do with my innocent, Wii-Dance playing sweetheart of a mama. She can count the number of times she’s been drunk on one hand, was a total self-admitted goody two-shoes growing up, is almost a legal midget (off by a few inches), loves terrible romantic comedies, and yet she’s responsible for this foul-mouthed, whisky slugging, horror movie marathon machine of a son who loves writing about the most f*cking insane shit he can find. My Dad will tell you it’s because my Grandmother got me interested in the dark arts while babysitting me when I was a wee-little Nato (he loves telling cheesy jokes about my Grandma being a witch), but in all honesty, I don’t have the slightest clue where my love for all things horror came from.
With that said, no one encourages my writing like she does. She may not approve of the topics I mostly write about, but on the off-chance I review a film like The Place Beyond The Pines, she always tells me what she agrees and doesn’t agree with right after she sees the film herself. Sure, you can say “Oh, she’s your Mom, what else is she going to tell you?” Doesn’t matter, the fact that she still even attempts to read some of my horror reviews kicks so much ass and makes me appreciate how much she tries, so it’d be a crime not to honor her for Mother’s Day.
Of course, Remy and I decided to honor the women who thrust us into this strange, messed up planet we live on by recalling some of our favorite horror films our mothers would disapprove of almost instantaneously if given the chance. Don’t worry Mom, I’m fine, I promise! *Puts The Poughkeepsie Tapes in his Blu Ray player*