Paranormal Activity 4 (2012)

Okay, so I finally broke down and watched one of these "Parahomo Activity" movies. Why? One word: this chick:

God damn is she fine. And, when you think about it, why not start with Part 4? I'm sure they're all exactly the same anyway, and the only way Part fucking 4 is going to contain any surprises whatsoever is if you watch it first, so why not do that and be the only non-retarded person on Earth with any chance in hell of enjoying it? Fortunately, Blonde Hotness is in virtually every scene, and sometimes she's wearing shorts, which makes this slog at least 100% more tolerable than it otherwise would have been. Too bad 100% of zero is still zero.

It's like being right there with her. In bed. With her.

As always with these miserable lost & found footage movies, I constantly found myself asking why the characters were even filming some of this stuff, like the little kid taking his bath, for example. "You won't believe it! I unwittingly caught footage of an honest-to-fuck ghost while making my child pornography! Wait, why are you handcuffing me?"

"Ohmigod, it's HUGE!"

To be fair, the conceit this time is that all the computers in the house are recording shit unbeknownst to most of the cast, so it's not quite as contrived as it sounds. But still, who lets their kid use a laptop in the bathtub? Oh, and I love how at the very end the main chick, in the midst of a sudden, violent attack by supernatural horror paranormal activity, stops to locate and power up a video camera before fleeing the house to seek help. Talk about fifty shades of duh. Paramoron Activity 4 is boring, it's unrealistic (even in the confines of a movie about crazy possessed bitches and killer ghosts), and it's not scary at all, unless you're generous enough to count the final shot, which would be a corker if it made any damn sense whatsoever. And while I'm sure she appreciated the paycheck, I think our lovely main chick will agree with me when I say that... Hey, what are you doing, toots? That's my...

Yes, yes, YES! Review's over. Nothing to see here.

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Accepted (2006)

What the fuck-hell has happened to college comedies? They used to be full of property destruction, drinking, vomiting, shenanigans, and tits, but ever since the 1990's ruined everything they've almost all been completely weak. This one is about some drips who rent an old insane asylum and open a fake college, and while there are some shenanigans and destruction on display (jumping a motorbike into a swimming pool, throwing a TV out a window, explosions), not one single person vomits and worst of all there's no tits whatsoever, and when you see the licktacular little redhead who plays one of the main kids you'll understand what an insurmountable oversight that really is:

Certified licktacular. And mountable.

They manage to work in everything lame about college comedies though: the dean of a legitimate college wants to shut them down, and his assitant is a typical douchebag frat guy (defined of course as any frat guy), so even though this movie is about a fake fucking college they still find a way to work in an evil dean and an evil fraternity! Duh. And it all ends with a trial, which is one of the big cop-outs screenwriters always use when they're too untalented (or drunk) to think up an actual ending. Talk about fucking lame. Just off the top of my head I can come up with plenty of endings that would have been considerably better:

• The school is shut down, but everyone learns a valuable lesson. And goes to jail.
• Everybody dies (this is always a good ending)
• The redhead can't take the suspense anymore, so she strips.
• At the last minute, a heroic dog saves the day.
• The Huntingtons play an impromptu concert, and the school explodes.
• It turns out the redhead was a ghost the whole time, so she strips.
• The fat kid becomes the Starchild.
• Scavenger hunt!
• James Bond rides in dressed as the King of England and orders the redhead to strip.
• "Mr. Rusk, you're not wearing your tie."
• The redhead gets shot, and, with her dying breath, she strips.
• At the suggestion of Rodney Dangerfield, everybody takes a shower.

Someone needs to hire me as one of those "script doctor" guys. I'll whip everything into shape.
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976-EVIL II (1992)

This starts off okay, with a passable dame showing off the dynamic duo before being impaled, but after that it's all over the fucking map. There are some cool bits -- like when one guy is blasted by a semi truck -- but then they go and give us a scene where the main dude is attacked by a kitchen, complete with frozen pizzas flying out of the freezer at him like deadly frisbees. (My spell-check kept trying to capitalize "frisbee", but I wasn't having it. Fuck you, Wham-O.) It's also got a part where Red Sonja reads her lines off a piece of paper she has (not so) cleverly hidden in a book (what a dumb, unprofessional twat), and the infamous scene where a ninja pops up in a chick's car and drives it into an electrical transformer, which I've seen re-purposed in at least two other movies. Cheap, lazy fucks. And could someone please explain to me how a ghost can be "killed" by falling off a cliff? This disaster's sole saving grace is the main chick's best friend; she is so goddamned fine there aren't even words in the English language to describe it. You'd have to speak French:

Seriously, we are talking total destination fuck here. Plus she digs horror movies, and is the only character in this movie who knows how to dress. Too bad she's ultimately sucked into a television and killed by the zombies from It's a Wonderful Life. No, that's not a typo. If these chuckleheads had been smart, they would've come up with some viral marketing campaign where you call the 976-EVIL number and an actress purporting to be the actress playing this chick talks dirty to you. Of course, if they were smart, they wouldn't have made a sequel to 976-EVIL in the first place.

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Why does It's a Wonderful Life secretly suck? Find out here.

Scarecrow (2013)

You can keep your werewolves and Frankenstein monsters and Freddy Kruegers and even the Boogens; for my money, the best movie monster of all is the killer scarecrow. All I ask is that the scarecrow be scary, and that it recognizably be a scarecrow. None of that avart-garde nonsense is what I'm getting at here.

Ah, yes. Terrifying.

So, as we open, taxpayer resources are being casually squandered to bus a scant half-dozen high school students to Saturday detention, which, in this movie's world, is held at a haunted farm. Because that's not stupid. Before you can do the Molly Ringwald though an evil scarecrow is dragging these punks off into the corn, and oh my god can you imagine the lawsuit? "You took my teenage daughter where? And she was eaten by what? After having sex with Mr. Satan who?" The movie initially adopts the trite-and-true "barricaded-in-the-old-house" format, wherein the good guys spend the entire running time barricaded inside some building or another while something else tries to get in, which is inarguably a good way to save money on sets and trying, but tends to get old pretty fast. Fortunately, they are ousted from their stronghold in fairly short order, but then they just end up running around the woods so I'm not sure if that's one for the "win" column or not. There's not much atmosphere (too much of this movie takes place during the day), and not only is our monster a cartoon, but it looks and behaves less like a scarecrow and more like the ghost of a really pissed-off tree, and most closely resembles the comic book version of Swamp Thing. What did I say about the avart-garde shit? Dammit, I really wanted to like this one, but they screwed up nearly everything. If they only had a brain...

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For your Halloween reading pleasure...

Electric Dreams (1984)

I kid you not, I taped this movie off the television back in 1986 and am just getting around to watching that very same VHS tape now, "now" being most of the way through the year 2013. Mr. Satanism gets shit done.

Bonus: There was an old Traci Lords video stuck in it.

Our hero is some sort of office drone who's trying to develop an "earthquake-proof brick". Okay, what? Anyway, he buys a home computer (a pretty ballsy move in 1984, when most people would've spent that money on a Michael Jackson Thriller jacket, or at least some more coke), and, if I understand what I'm seeing correctly, tries to download the entire Internet while simultaneously getting the motherboard drunk on champagne. (Hey, it was the 1980's; people assumed computers could do anything.) Result: the A.I. falls in love with him (after all that porn and booze, who can blame it?) and tries to sabotage his relationship with the cellist he's boning. Failing that, it ultimately does what any self-respecting third wheel should do and commits fucking suicide. Yeah, you read that right. Take the hint, Scott. It's a silly movie even by "What's a computer?" standards, and full of dumb, forced scenes, like the part where the main guy hides the computer from his girl in a slapsticky fashion (why?) or the part where his pager keeps going off during a classical music concert, resulting in more unnecessary slapstick (just take the battery out, asshole). There's more of this shit, but really, it's just embarrassing. You know how some movies are made by talented amateurs? Well this feels like a movie made by untalented professionals - it's slick and pretty, but wrongheaded in nearly every other way that counts. Features obscure 1980's touchstones like the best Philip Oakley song ever (not difficult), and a box of Powdered Donutz cereal. Remember Donutz cereal? That shit was the bomb. Man, fuck health.

Shit tasted just like motherfuckin' donuts!

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Legendary House of Haunted Hell. It's the perfect Halloween gift for the horror fan who has everything, except a copy of Legendary House of Haunted Hell.

Iron Sky (2012)

Despite an impressive budget and a slick, second-tier Hollywood look, Iron Sky is not a big, soulless, empty-headed Hollywood movie, and what's tragically ironic about this is that soulless, empty-headed Hollywood actually would have done a better job. Really, this could've been such a cool movie and it's such a piece of shit. The time is the near future (you can tell because there's a woman President; previous near-futures have always featured a black one), and, as it turns out, the Nazis have been hiding out on the dark side of the moon this entire time, just waiting for a chance to get their hands on a cell phone battery to power their ultimate death weapon and conquer the world once and for all. Opposing them: an irreverent black guy who, quite frankly, is more like a parody of a black person as envisioned by somebody who's never actually met one before. (Imagine your little sister's idiot boyfriend doing his best Will Smith at a party and you'll have some idea what I'm talking about here.) In fact, this entire movie feels like a parody of itself, except minus the parts where it's aware of this or in any way funny. Here's an example: a guy tells a chick she's a knockout, and then... wait for it... he's knocked out! Ha ha! Wow.

Nazis haven't been this zany since Hogan's Heroes. And the invasion of Belgium.

There's inappropriate comedic music when super dramatic shit is going down, the main black guy is transformed into a white guy (This necessitates covering the black actor with whiteface. Er, is that racist or not?); the Nazis' second-in-command tools around the 'hood in a stolen VW Microbus; all the female characters seem to think they're in a porno, making every important decision based on whether or not it will get them laid; the political commentary is so heavy-handed that it makes Tom Tomorrow look witty and subtle by comparison; and the big spaceship battle at the end is so flat and uninvolving that it could have been lifted from the Star Wars prequels. Pluses are limited to a hot Nazi chick in her underwear (which just gave me an awesome idea for this weekend), two good jokes, and an admirably-cynical final shot. Other than that this movie seems to have been crafted by some sort of pod people who have no working knowledge of anything: women, the law, history, politics, jokes, the military... It's like something an unsocialized four-year-old would come up with, except we could simply spank the four-year-old and then give him a time-out, effectively nipping any more of his nonsense right in the bud. Too bad that isn't possible here, but rest assured that, in protest of this movie, I will symbolically spank a girl dressed as a Nazi, very, very soon. And maybe get some in return.

This weekend is gonna be so awesome.

SO awesome...

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The ABCs of Death (2012)

Okay, here it is, the ultimate anthology movie - twenty-six fucking stories. The gimmick is that they found twenty-six directors with nothing better to do (not difficult), assigned each one of them a letter, let them pick a word that starts with that letter, and then each one had "complete artistic freedom" to make a short movie about death that has something to do with their word. The end result is kinda like Harlan Ellison's "From A to Z, in the Chocolate Alphabet" only way shittier, or, alternately, like Harlan Ellison's "From A to Z, in the Sarsaparilla Alphabet" only considerably less shitty. That's right, Ellison, I said it. Start lawyering up.

This is one of the first pics that came up when I searched my
image provider for "lawyer". If that chick on the left was my
lawyer, I'd totally bang her. What do you think?

Highlights include the letter A (that was a lucky break); the letter N (sorta funny); the letter P (legitimately good); the letter Q ("Let's kill this fuckin' duck."); the letter L (pretty fucking twisted, should've been a whole movie); and the letter B (nice tits). Lowlights include the letter D (for "dumb", apparently); the letter R ("retarded"); the letter E (It's an urban legend. Write your own shit, you lazy hack.); the letter G (Lazy, again. Probably took this guy an hour to shoot.); the letter H (creepy furry bullshit); the letter K ("copremesis" starts with a C, idiot); the letter W (I see someone's familiar with Shadoe Steven's Shadoevision. Also, "WTF" isn't a word, jackass.); the letter X (I know X is hard, but "XXL" isn't a word, either.); the letter Y (starring Fantastic Four nemesis the Puppet Master); the letter Z (Nonsensical, self-indulgent horseshit. Gross though.); and the letter F. Especially the letter F. Seriously, you're allowed to pick any word in the entire English language and this lowbrow butt-sniffer picks "fart"??? This entry is so bad that even Japanese teacher-schoolgirl statutory lesbianism can't save it, making it a serious contender for single worst thing ever filmed, ever, including snuff movies and every episode of Hee Haw Honeys except the one where they all got naked, if that happened. Here's a better F word for you, director Noboru Iguchi: fuck off.

Hollywood will embrace him with open arms.

As you can see, there's more bad than good (just like the real alphabet), making the overall experience pretty wretched. It's a great argument against "complete artistic freedom" though.

A sequel is threatened.

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All the letters that appear in this movie are also featured in my books. Available here.

Return of the Killer Shrews (2012)

The first Killer Shrews was made in 1959, which means that this sequel came out over fifty years later. And it's not just some phony-baloney johnny-come-lately sequel-in-name-only either, like Food of the Gods 2 or The Phantom Menace; it's a legitimate continuation that even stars one of the same actors as the same character! (It's all such a mindfuck that for a while I completely forgot that the original Killer Shrews sucked a fair amount of ass, so why the hell was I watching a sequel to it in the first place?) Too bad our returning "hero" seems to be channeling Rosco P. Coltrane (his other "great" role) instead of... er, whatever the hell his name was in Part 1. Not that it matters, since his entire role in this movie can be summed up as "reaction shot". The set-up is lazy and uninspired (They're shooting a reality show on killer shrew island? Yawn. Oh, and fuck you.); their cartoon shrews actually look worse than the cheesy-ass costumed greyhounds of half a century earlier (nice advancement in visual effects, fags); the token bikini "babe" is a complete butterface; the bulk of the dialogue, which is apparently trying to be funny, is rage-inducing in its aggressive stupidity (example: "I think we're gonna need a bigger goat."); the only likeable character is the superficially ambitious blonde (at least she has motives and a personality); and stunt-casting half of the surviving dramatis personæ from The Dukes of Hazzard is such a cloying move that you'll want to kick in every dick in the place. It's a complete waste of everything (except of course talent, because there's none of that evident), and the most probable reason why all John Schneider movies are illegal in the alternate future of 2199. In short, fuck the killer shrews, fuck their return, and fuck this witless shitpile of a movie.

"Narf!"

Treasure of the Four Crowns (1983)

A smarmy-looking dork (nice hair, you fucking guido) raids this ancient keep, where he's forced to brave impenetrable booby traps (by "impenetrable" I mean "What the hell just happened, exactly?"), vultures, wolves, snakes, crossbow-wielding ghosts, and, naturally, pterodactyls. Why all the effort? To obtain a magical key that opens the little pop-top adorning these four magical crowns. What, no one knows a locksmith? Or has a penknife? Anyway, the next step, it seems, is to acquire all the crowns. See, the good guys only have the one, while this uncooperative evil cult is hoarding the other two. The fourth one? Oh, there is no fourth one anymore; apparently the Arabs broke the fourth crown years ago, and didn't even have it insured. Stupid assholes.

Not this guy again.

Naturally the smarmy dork is enlisted to obtain the four three two remaining crowns, so to facilitate this he rounds up a theatrical drunk ("If it doesn't come in a bottle, I'm not interested!"), a circus strongman (his gay lover, the clown, is less than enthusiastic about his participation in this ridiculous scheme), and a sexy trapeze artist with a highly spankable ass. The magic key, meanwhile, apparently has a mind of its own, and actually tries to escape, even using ESP at one point to destroy an entire cabin. The sequence where they break into the cult's secret publicly-disclosed headwaters to steal the crowns is pretty disappointing compared to the acquisition of the key (there aren't even any pterodactyls), but the final showdown is a laugh riot, full of people with cartoonishly spinning Exorcist heads, magical jewels that shoot fire, and exploding... well, everything. Seriously, so much shit fatally explodes at the end of this movie, and for so long, that it looks like a municipal fireworks display gone horribly awry, leading to hundreds of lawsuits that eventually bankrupt the city. And don't even ask me to explain the very last scene, which makes no fucking sense whatsoever.

Dumb as hell, completely awesome, and at least 10% better than Indiana Jones III.

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Tim Riggins of Mars

You know what? I am done with movies where you have to crank the sound up whenever people are talking, and then turn it back down every time there's music or something explodes, over and over again, for the entire fucking running time. I watch movies to veg; if I wanted entertainment that was interactive, I'd play a video game or buy a hooker. Seriously, sound engineers, if this is the best you can do, maybe you should stick to the soundboard down at the beach bar, where you'll do less damage. Jimmy Buffett and Dave Matthews suck at any volume.

"Yeah, but these go to 11."

So, this multi-billion-dollar studio-killer (seriously, if anyone besides Disney had bankrolled this, you'd be using their stock for toilet paper right now) is about a character who is literally decades past his expiration date, and to make things worse it opens with a completely unnecessary scene on Mars, wholly undermining any potential sense of wonder we, the audience, might have experienced when John Carter actually arrives there. Oh, and get this: he's played by goddamned Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights, which might have worked if the assclown didn't act like he was still playing Tim Riggins. Seriously, I'm surprised he wasn't knocking Martians out with well-aimed footballs and shit. Nice range, idiot. Get me another basket of chicken fingers and tell your soundboard guy he's over-amping this hippie's butchering of Tom Petty:

If it weren't for Sublime, this guy's playlist wouldn't have changed since 1978.

Of course the plot is fucking garbage, starting with a scene where the author of the actual book this movie is based on first reads the story he wrote as a "true account" in someone else's journal. Hollywood loves this gimmick, because the idea that anyone could actually make up an original, entertaining story out of whole cloth is utterly foreign to them. Hell, if Hollywood had its way, all movies would be nothing but one long, speaker-blowing explosion, punctuated every ten minutes or so by references and farting. This flick goes the opposite route though, with enough clumsily-presented backstory to make Dune (1984) seem coherent. Take that, you fucking art snobs, always demanding some sort of "context" for your farting. Plus: a comedic relief alien dog, Tim Riggins jumping around like the Hulk (it looks just as ridiculous as it sounds), and a running time that's longer than my first marriage.

Are you kidding me? How many fucks can one production not give?

On the plus side, I would totally bone their Princess of Mars:

Oh, yeah... how do you like that Mars probe, baby?

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Broken DVD Rage

I never got to watch it, but upon reflection this is probably the best thing that could have happened to my copy of Funky Monkey.

Around the World Under the Sea (1966)

Okay, so they spend the entire first half of this flick recruiting scientists, and of course every single one of them is a complete blowhard who just has to show off his or her new invention. There's a guy who's invented a way to talk to dolphins, a guy who claims to have invented rabbits that can breathe underwater but the rabbits he shows us clearly aren't underwater so I don't know who he thinks he's kidding, and a chick who's invented having a nice ass & legs combo. Well, maybe she didn't invent it, but she did find a solid practical application. Once everyone's been collected the real story finally begins: it seems there's been too many earthquakes lately (thank you, Al Gore), so these jokers are gonna tool around the world in a submarine and plant fifty earthquake detectors on the ocean floor. Apparently fifty is plenty because the detectors are super sensitive, even more sensitive than the kid from my high school who cried whenever someone pronounced his name wrong. Remember that pussy? Dick Smocker? Anyway, there's no real trouble to speak of along the way (a few minor disagreements; some inconsequential pussy poaching; a giant eel that doesn't even come close to eating anyone), which means this movie just keeps buying endless rounds of boring all the way through to the boring wrap-up. "Remember that time we traveled around the world under the sea and absolutely nothing happened?" Why am I even watching this??? The only part I liked was the very end, where they show the guy who lost his girl to another crew member holding a couple of gerbils. Ha ha! Enjoy your weekend, buddy!

"Squeak! The horror... Squeak!"

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The Last Exorcism Part II (2013)

Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Okay, seriously, seriously, how can anyone, with a straight face, call their movie The Last Exorcism... Part 2 ???? It's like something out of a Saturday Night Live sketch, except not really because I actually laughed. ("Samurai Delicatessen"? Are you kidding me? Eat shit.) Okay, so our main chick (whom I would just barely fuck) is (still) possessed by the Devil -- or a devil, anyway -- so in due course she's floating above her bed, her body's contorting, she's hurling people out of windows, and so on and so forth. Oh, Satan, why must you be so predictable? Honestly, Ghostbusters effectively parodied all this tired-ass crap into irrelevance back in 1984, so why are we still being subjected to it thirty years later? Is it still because the original Exorcist broke box office records and made ass-loads of money? Well guess what? Exorcists 2-4b didn't, so take the hint already, Hollywood.

L to R: Exorcists 2, 3, 4a, and 4b

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for a good, sleazy, out-of-control exorcism movie like The Tempter (1974) or The Sexorcist (also 1974; that was a good year for sleaze), but these Hollywood takes always seem to feel the need to class it all up, leading to watered-down movies just like this one that are full of missed opportunities. For example, imagine if the street performer who was made up to look like a statue had, after he talked to the main chick, turned out to be an actual statue? How freaky would that have been? Or what if the curly-haired blonde roommate had shown us her tits, possibly while masturbating? That would've been even more awesome. Seriously, the Devil is evil as fuck, so I for one expect way more from him than repeatedly staring at his mark from across the street and making a few crank phone calls. Hell, I can do that, and I've got the restraining orders to prove it. As it stands, the only cool part of this movie is the very last scene, where our fully-possessed main chick slowly drives through town, literally raising hell. Spoiler warning.

Okay, is that the Smurf, or the Molly Ringwald? Anyone?

Suggested followup: The Last Exorcism: The Final Chapter, Part 3

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For more, check out my book 66.6 Absurd Movies About the Devil, available here.

King *@#!! Frat (1979)

Most people think the 1980's were all about The Breakfast Club, Punky Brewster, and jerking it raw to Tiffany and/or Debbie Gibson (and/or Punky Brewster), but the 1980's had a dark side too, and here's a prime example: King Fucking Frat, AKA Animal House without all the subtlety and nuances. The official fraternity car sports a vanity plate that says "HEY 4Q2", a newspaper headline reads "Big Fart Contest Announced" (I think this was even front-page news), the frat guys disrupt a funeral and steal the body (also, they're pretty much responsible for killing this guy), a dick is slammed in a window, someone shoots a blow-up doll in the head with a handgun, people hurl empty kegs around like I hurl insults at the French, and the dean promises the frat brothers that "I'll see this traveling circle-jerk of yours in leg irons!" Plus a Howard the Duck t-shirt (pre-the awful movie, so still cool), some tits, and a belly dancer with a muffin top (bonus: she's ugly, too). It's juvenile, low-brow crap, and there isn't even a plot (in fact, the big climax seems to occur in the middle, twice, but both times the movie just keeps right on going), but it still effortlessly trumps sissified garbage like PCU and (ugh) Van Wilder. Seriously, did fucking Van Wilder ever kill a guy? I don't think so. In a case like this you either buy in, suck it up, and go along for the ride, or you turn in your sack and slink back home. But don't take it from me - I think this exchange from King Fucking Frat says it best:

Chick: "You're not turning into one of those jerkoffs are you?"

Supposed Identification Character: "Do I have a choice?!"

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Escape from Hell (2001)

This is a Christian movie, but Christians are big on Hell so I figured it might have some potential, like maybe the main guy, condemned to Hell for some heinous crime against God like believing in evolution or eating pork on a Wednesday or whatever, fights his way out of the fiery pits, cold-cocking demons left and right and finally blowing Satan himself away with a mega-bore rifle that shoots, I dunno, Bibles (NIV) or something. Well, the main guy does indeed go to Hell -- after pulling a Flatliners -- but he's only there for maybe ten minutes, tops. The rest is just set-up, although there are lots of clever little touches along the way, like the fact that the chick researching near-death experiences has placed a sign on the hospital roof that she changes on an irregular basis, knowing that only people experiencing a legitimate out-of-the-body experience will see it on their way to Heaven and be able to report it back to her correctly. Although my sign would've said something a lot more funny, like "You left the oven on".

"Ahhhhhhhhhgggghhhh!!! My area!"

The scenes in Hell are effectively gruesome (which is kind of surprising, since Christians generally hate violence and gore, unless they're personally inflicting it on someone else, of course), but in the end there's just too much manipulative crap, like showing the kind, loving family man condemned to Hell just because he didn't kowtow to someone else's narrow view of the universe. This, of course, is one of Christianity's classic angles: scaring you into believing in Jesus, although I have to wonder if that's what God really wants, to spend eternity surrounded by a bunch of easily-manipulated, opportunistic hypocrites? According to this movie, the answer, apparently, is yes.

Still, I did appreciate the term the researcher chick came up with to describe near-death cases where the subject imagines that they've visited Hell: "non-positive near-death experiences". Seriously, bitch should be in marketing.

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Unlucky Charms (2013)

Five supposed "babes" (pfft, I count one; the other four range in appearance from blandly doable to straight-up ugly, and that's being generous) are participating in what appears to be the most boring, unfocused reality show ever, until you realize that there is not a single camera, light, piece of equipment, or crew member in sight, which means that either a) these are the dumbest bitches ever, and they're all about to be sold into white slavery or b) the people who made this movie have so little respect for their audience that they can't even be bothered to half-ass it. As you probably guessed, it's the latter. The "plot", such as it is, concerns one of the judges, who's using these magically delicious (I'm assuming) charms to compel four monsters to kill the contestants so she can scarf down their souls and remain eternally young and beautiful. (One look at the skank should be ample proof that this plan isn't exactly working, but for the sake of the narrative just pretend that she doesn't immediately make your penis crawl inside your body and die, okay?) The monsters consist of a guy in a shitty cyclops mask that "blinks" via awful cartoon effects, two goons wearing goblin masks lifted from the Walgreen's Halloween aisle, and a red leprechaun suffering from what appears to be DEFCON 2-level acne. Seriously, try washing your face once in a while, you repulsive little fuck.

"Blandly doable to straight-up ugly..." How picky am I, right?

There's one funny joke ("Sorry, was that racist?"); the sole hottie shows us her tits; the ugly Asian chick shows us her fakes (they're absurd); the fat chick covers a video camera with a handkerchief to prevent the producers from hearing her (you dumb, fat bitch); and the guy playing the cyclops sports the kind of haircut that gets people disinherited and is constantly waggling his tongue around like he's still fourteen years old, working his uncle's asshole. Truly fucking terrible in every notable aspect: story, writing, logic, acting, casting, dialogue, makeup, special effects, not pissing me off... the list just goes on and on. In fact, it's a textbook example of a movie made by people who don't give a rat's ass if you're entertained or not, as long as they've already got your money. Just another infuriating example of our migration from a primarily service-based to a fully scam-based economy, where literally everything is an add-on, bait & switch, extra charge, or blatant fucking hose job. No, Target, you egg-sucking cunts, you can't swipe my driver's license so you can collect and sell my personal information. Did I say I wanted the meal, fuck-licker? Stop trying to up-sell me every goddamned time I come in and just get me the artery-clogging Big Mac I ordered. As a matter of fact, I won't pay a surcharge because I'm using a credit card, you money-grubbing, penny-pinching heeb. If you truly and honestly can't afford to keep your doors open because of a fourteen-cent Visa processing fee, maybe running a fucking business isn't part of your personal skill set, moron. And there's no such thing as "shift work disorder", you miserable pricks. It's called "being tired". STOP TRYING TO SELL ME STUPID, MADE-UP SHIT. I am so sick of your endless fucking chicanery. Fuck you, Corporate America, fuck you and die.

Of course, I probably shouldn't get too agitated in this particular case, seeing as I stole this movie via the Internet. Guess the joke's on you, assholes.

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For more righteous questionable fury, check out my books at Amazon.com.

Sierra's - don't take TELL you ask!

You know, it's bad enough that Sierra here actually wanted to own this copy of Kangaroo Jack, but to be so fucking gutter-tarded that she doesn't know the difference between the words "tell" and "until"? A chick this dumb isn't even worth the loads that are no doubt regularly blown in her face. Oh, and as an old fogey, it goes without saying that I weep for the future.

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Check out my latest book here. Oh, you needn't bother, Sierra. We know you're too dumb to read.

Nights of Terror (1980)

Fucking Rasputin is the only one who knows the secret, and it's incredible, but he gets offed by zombies so who knows what will happen next? We know who it's gonna happen to though: a whole gaggle of degenerate eurofucks who are spending the weekend at this country estate. They're a particularly cretinous lot, but the worst thing about them is that one of them somehow produced this genetic disaster:

 

Seriously, it's no exaggeration to say that this kid is probably the creepiest, ugliest, most disturbing little bastard in film history. He deserves to die just for existing. And, frankly, he probably wishes he had:

Anyway, the story's not complicated: suddenly there's zombies, and they kill everybody. There's plenty of gore, some tits, uh... Ah, hell. I'm sorry, but I can't get my mind off this freaky-ass kid. What the fuck, universe? I mean seriously, what the fuck???

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For more zombie movie madness, check out my already-a-classic Night of the Living Dud:Over 100 Zombie Movies You Probably Haven't Seen, now available on Amazon!

Breaking Dawn Part Two (2012)

It's par for the de rigueur for horror fans to despise the Twilight series, but you shouldn't hate on these movies just because they contain romantic elements and have sparkly vampires in them. No, you should hate on these movies because they are indefensibly bad and boring beyond belief. Hell, the previous entry was entirely about vampires sitting around in a house in the woods while absolutely nothing happens, which means that if you're sitting around your place watching it, there is literally more going on in your life at that particular moment than on the screen, in the world of Twilight. And, I dunno, maybe this has something to do with the fact that this is yet another entry in the functionally-retarded trend of vampire movies that don't feature actual vampires. I mean, if you can go out in the daytime, can't turn into a bat, and aren't repelled by crosses, then, by fucking definition, YOU ARE NOT A GODDAMNED VAMPIRE. Fine, they do have super speed, but at best this makes them X-Men, and at worst, part of the mob chasing Benny Hill. Seriously, the characters in this movie are basically the "Jews for Jesus" of vampires, and, as you can imagine, that doesn't make for much of a vampire movie.

On the plus side, I'd so fuck Charlotte. Right in her hot little faux-vampire ass, I'd fuck her.

"Okay," someone defending this movie might say (this person will inevitably be a chick), "so it's a bad vampire movie. But it's a great romantic movie." WRONG. The main couple is boring, aloof, douchey, and completely unlikeable, and their friends are the kind of tools you meet at super-snobby parties and don't regret for a second stealing the prescription meds out of their purses. The entire "plot" consists of vampires standing around looking vaguely concerned and driving places in their Volvo (so scary! And romantic!), until the thrilling climax, where, finally, there's an amazing vampire/werewolf throw-down that, in one of the biggest cinematic "fuck yous" of all time, turns out to be a dream. A dream! FUCK YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKING FUCKLEBERRIES. I'm sorry (no I'm not), but when the best part of your movie is the part that didn't even happen, it's time to step away from the word processor and GO FUCK YOURSELF. The fact that test audiences were perfectly okay with a reaming of this magnitude just proves how brain-dead and pathetic Twilight fans really are. Throw in some cartoon wolves, a creepy cartoon baby/child that should be killed with fire, a gratuitous pro-Beatles comment (suck my huge, universe, it's time to get over the Beatles), and vampires so badass and powerful that they need fake passports to get out of the country, and this really is the final nail in the vampire movie coffin. Somebody get the lights. I'm going home.

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Fuck vampires. For my take on zombie movies, check out my latest book, Night of the Living Dud - 100 Zombie Movies You Probably Haven't Seen, available now!

For those of you who have a Kobo...

...(you're probably Canadian), the previous Mr. S book, "Trash of the Titans", will be available for this reader sometime in the next few days.

Night of the Living Dud - 100 Zombie Movies You Probably Haven't Seen.

Now available. Free through June 12th, and then available at a special low price for the rest of the week. Get it while the gettin's good!

SB/SE: Leading Into the Future (IRS Star Trek) (2010)

This is it: the infamous Star Trek "parody" made by the IRS to teach their employees... wait for it... absolutely nothing. Seriously, this video contains no educational content whatsoever. It's just a bunch of dumb jokes, like Scotty using a hair dryer on the engines because, apparently, they got wet. (Jesus Christ.) I'm not here to be outraged though; like most supervillains, I funnel all my ill-gotten gains into offshore accounts long before the IRS gets wind of it, so what do I care what they spend your money on? No, I'm here to review this thing solely as entertainment, beyond all the entertainment we're getting from watching the people responsible sweat under official questioning, I mean. And, as such, it's definitely lacking. First off, how can you make the captain of the starship Enterprise black and not cast Morgan Freeman? Really, how much more would that have cost? We already know money was no object, so get into the spirit, IRS slackers, and do this shit right. Speaking of getting shit right (and this one's for the nerds): you got the uniforms backwards. The captain is supposed to wear yellow, and the peons wear red. For real, who doesn't know this? Hell, "redshirt" is part of our cultural lexicon, as in "I wonder which redshirt will take the blame for all this gratuitous IRS spending?" Another Star Trek trademark, female crew members sporting insultingly short, sexist skirts, is entirely absent, but rest assured it isn't missed, because the women in this thing are almost all fat, or hags, or, in the case of the communications officer, some sort of undying, lich-bait super hag. Are you telling me that not a single hottie on staff wanted to appear in your absurd, quasi-illegal, funds-misappropriating Star Trek movie? Never mind, I just answered my own question. Of course the jokes are fucking terrible -- operating at about the level you'd expect if you made a sci-fi flick with several people from the office -- but I did raise my Spock eyebrow at the captain's response when asked if he wanted to buy some overpriced coffee:

Captain: "I've already spent my per diem for the day."

And later, there's another "joke" (it's funny because it's true, apparently) about getting rich by becoming a public servant! Seriously, why don't they just throw handfuls of money into the air while flipping us off?

In conclusion, I seriously doubt that IRS Star Trek will ever be made available for purchase, but if it someday is, trust me, save your money. Oh, wait, you already paid for it! Ha ha!

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Good Men (2011)

Lou Grant and another old fuck argue for ten minutes about something that only assholes and morons believe anymore (that 9/11 was a huge conspiracy, perpetrated by the American government), and then the guy who isn't Lou Grant pisses himself. Seriously, that's it. That's all we got goin' on here. It's the kind of movie that only someone who's tasted the sweet, forbidden love of his own mother's asshole would make, and it's so fucking slight and categorically pointless that there isn't even a genre to assign it to, unless there's such a thing as "idiot porn". Honestly, what butt-sniffer still thinks that we blew up 9/11 ourselves and then covered it up with a conspiracy? Why? To start a war? Give me a fucking break. The U.S. starts wars for no reason at all all the fucking time - orchestrating a huge conspiracy to justify it would just make the whole process needlessly complicated and be a huge waste of everyone's time. Only a knuckle-dragging pinhead would believe something like that, and only their ass-dwelling king would make yet another dumbass movie about it. If you ask me, Lou Grant should be ashamed of himself, but since he appeared in this fucking garbage he obviously has no shame, so a better option would be for him to have a stroke, and the sooner, the better. Fuck you, Lou Grant. And fuck this pile of crap.

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Want to know the truth about 9/11? Some terrorists did it. Now buy my books.