I just read a review of the film F*ckload of Scotch Tape that ended with this paragraph:
“In the end, F*ckload of Scotch Tape is the cinematic equivalent of a repeated kick to the nuts with just enough of a break here and there to give you some hope that maybe, just maybe, the next kick won’t come. But that next kick always comes, and it’s not going to stop. This is not an easy flick to experience, and I don’t know if the word ‘enjoy’ is the right one to use, even though I can’t dismiss the merits of the film even if it made me feel like shit. Stinky, watery shit. Fuck, you’re going to kick me in the nuts again, aren’t you?”
Author of Peckerwood, Fierce Bitches and A F*ckload of Shorts. Co-editor of the fiction anthologies Noir at the Bar and D*CKED.