Welcome my fellow Gommorrahns to another episode of Uncle Grumpyfuk’s insightful and …uh, evinrude observations concerning …cinematic… intacies..intricies..intr.. …in-tri-ca-ci-ties… intricate stuff, whatever! FUCK! Sit d.. shove those poultry magazines and crusty tissues off the couch and throw that towel over the dark spot, NEVERMIND THE SMELL!!! ..sigh- and sit down. Shit, please stop my brain from spinning oh Crom.
I apologize folks, the tabs will be kicking in any minute and I’ll have some energy and get the peach fuzz off my brain- you know that Beatles (*) tune ;
Well she was just un-der-eight,
and it was tastin’ mighty great,
when I heard a knock,
a knock on my front door-or!
Yeah i-i-in came the cops and her pareeents! Ohhhh,
I was-still-holding-the-Mazola-
and-the-octopus-tentacle,
and she-was paaaassed-ooout aawwwn the-floor!
Well Uncle Grumpyfuk’s having one of those kinda mornings, I’m SURE you know what I mean.
(*) I’m sure you’ve recently heard of the lucky asswipe that hit an estate sale and found hand written lyrics by members of the Fab Four (**) amongst some old paperwork. He’s going to make some serious bank, lucky fucker – these are actually some of the alternate lyrics, released by stickyourgoddamncopyrightsupyouroozingrectum.com (***)
(**) In actuality the lyrics presented herein were NOT written by the Beatles. Neither the cute one or the wussie one, nor the good one or the lucky one had anything to do whatsoever with these lyrics, it was me. Seriously, it was…what? You think the Beatles could write lyrics that good?!? You are fucking insane.
(***) Actually no such website exists that I know of,I didn’t really check or anything, if there is it was a lucky guess- as far as I’m concerned I made that up too. Yes I did indeed! I know- O Henry, Saki, Shatner, Dickens, yep I know – thanks!
Whew, hell I haven’t even told you what movie we’re doing..oh, well I guess you read the title. Ok fine Monsieur Smartass! Ahem, today I’ll be reviewing a movie dear to Uncle Grumpyfuk’s heart, directed by the master Ray Dennis Steckler,with a title that deserves an Oscar in itself; “The Incredibly Strange Creatures That Stopped Living and Became Mixed Up Zombies” , top that Scorsayze.. Scoresasee…Scorsaysie…Coppola! You bitch!
It begins with the highest crane shot I’ve ever seen of a rollercoaster in an amusement park on Long Beach that no longer exists, because the human race sucks. Next we find ourselves down in the park amongst the crowd in front of Mme Estrella’s Gypsy Fortune Telling tent and the camera moves forward, while filming(!) such innovative technique from a young Steckler! Amazing. Then, we move through the curtain and are transported, as if by magic, inside the tent! Huh, ‘Avatar in 3′D’ – phttt,what hog-waste!
We meet our sultry clairvoyant trying to attract a pudgy boozehound with her crotch-sweat, he actually reviles her and suggests she engage in intimate physical relations with one of her fellow carnival workers who was afflicted from birth with horrific physical handicaps, indicating that their unfortunate disfigurement delegated them as something less than normal! Enraged at his stunning political incorrectness and aggrieved for the delicate emotions of the disgusting freaks she calls forth Ortega, her debonaire companion, who’s makeup job of cotton swabs and cigarette ashes would not be equaled until a full 3 decades later with ‘A Joan Rivers Christmas Extravaganza’. Ortega’s Clark Gable-esque features and manner cannot help but impress- oh Ortega you devil! ..and the way Steckler executes the scene, with Ortega entering from behind the curtains, as if he emerged from a portal to another dimension, once again,amazing.
Well, Ortega subdues the slobbering sot and holds him wallowing helplessly as our ravishing gypsy demonstrates what happens when you try the Chinese water torture with corrosive acid, fun stuff indeed! She then commands Ortega to put the ‘feelthy peeg’ in the back with the others and our hopes begin to soar.
The first act is over and as the credits begin there appears a nice semblance of our director’s face which, as the credits proceed, evolves, like magic into the hideous countenance of Eddie Van Halen! Utter, soul-wrenching fright ensues. What an innovative and chilling intro by Steckler. The phantom cry from very shade of DW Griffith himself, at the moment that scene was originally shot, could be heard across the unimaginable distances from limbo itself claiming, ” Heeeelp! Talulah Bankhead and Barbara Stanwick are after me, trying to lop of my testicles with a crosscut saw and Hilary Clinton isn’t getting any younger!” Higher praise one simply could not ask for.
The next scene begins abruptly with the discordant laughter of a mechanical carnival clown that looks like Ross Perot and another head, a pirate or a priest or something, that those two assholes on that antique pickers show would give 30 bucks for, for both ,then we’re outside a cafe/dinner theater like in Amsterdam except there aren’t 7 people and a goat fucking on stage while salad is being served. What a shame, that always gets my appetite going!
A couple I like to call ‘Pat and Pat’, a rather masculine female (Steckler’s actual wife at the time) that looks like Mary Ellen from the Waltons and a rather feminine male that looks like Brigitte Nielsen are doing a pretty cool dance number, (what the fuck do I know), they finish and Pat dashes back to her room (see what I did there? that’s called…some writing term, shit, I don’t know) to swill Witch Hazel when she spots a dark feline creature glaring balefully at her from atop a box of Whiskas, and a terrified shriek erupts from under her boobs – her familiar has found her once more and she shudders as she hears the Dark Lord’s crappy voice singing ‘Bim Bam Baby’. Soon she knows she must join Sinatra and the rest of the Rat Pack and endure Sammie’s Uncle Tom routine for all eternity, that there is no escape. At that moment however her manager bursts into the room, scoops up the hissing monster and tosses it out into the hall- slamming the door before enraged Sir Scruffalot could re-enter the room, problem solved!
Now, finally we’re introduced to the main character, the true rebellious teen idol of the 1960s; Cash Flag, otherwise known as our beloved director Ray Dennis Steckler! Acting, direction, production, what a talent! Yes my friends Cash Flag, three times as cool as James Dean and Steckler didn’t have to take it up the ass to attain his fame like that fucking toy-boy poser! Cash is tre-fucking-cool, we open at his pad where he and his hip Greek buddy Harold, (who is from Greece and has a voice like Ahnold before he screwed his housekeeper and himself in the rump) are kickin’ back talking about Cash’s old lady and her uptight but totally fuckable mom, when Harold suggests Cash possibly get some means of employment to improve his relationship and get in that milf’s ass! Cash, horrified at the thought of a job delivers one of his classic lines which says it all, “The world is here to be enjoyed, not to make you depressed, that’s what work does, it makes you feel depressed.” Yeah, fuckin’a right buddy, we should all live off of gummi bears and expresso and crap out the window, hell yeah! ..Anyway the ‘dynamic two guys’ head over to Cash’s squeeze’s pad where her mom is giving her shit for not putting out for the the ‘nice boy’, you’ve all heard it before girls, I know you have. They take off and hit the beach where they frolic, see, when you’re cool like Cash you can do shit and not worry about it – you can frolic, ya know what I’m saying? Word.
The trio go over to the amusement park and decide to ride on the roller coaster, Cash tries to persuade his bird to give him a bj for the ‘fun photo’ camera but no dice, so they hit the Gonad Lift and hock luggies into the baby cribs passing by below, good old fun like kids used to have the kind of fun that’s been taken away from them, just like lynchings! It’s terrible.
Meanwhile Pat is still swilling on her Witch Hazel, an oreo is on stage telling the worst jokes with the delivery of a third grader with autism, then Pat and Pat begin their act with Pat staggering around like Whitney Houston on meth..oh come on, screw you, no one was surprised about that shit! ..and Pat ends up faceplanting on stage like Whit..oh fine, like your mother after a night out with the Cult of the Red Hat, yeah! Ha! However the crowd was entertained so all is well. She rushes backstage followed by her oppressive manager, and dives back into the bottle. He tells her to continue drinking- the audience loved it and it gave him sadistic pleasure at watching her humiliate herself and Pat onstage, it is really funny when you think about it, and that if she quits, she’s fired.
Later that night they’re still riding the coaster, apparently the operator suffered a major stroke getting a hummer from a 10-year-old for a caramel apple and a coke razor necklace so they’re stuck up there for the moment! Haunted by her encounter with Sir Scruffalot, Pat seeks solace from Mme Estrella who tells her of two possibilities concerning her future, that she will die very soon or get knocked up by a spade with a huge choad sending her fleeing in terror, out of the tent and knocking Harold head-over-heels as the kids stand outside the tent. The intrigued youngsters enter the gypsy’s tent to see what the hubbub is about, however our hot-ass gypsy’s clairvoyant vision is clouded by the smell of Harold’s hair cream so she basically gives them the same old ‘one of you will die!’ spiel. This enrages Cash who swears bloody revenge on the smokin’ cougar, the Roma bitch stole Harold’s wallet though so she’s got it coming. Oh man that mole on her face does something down in the groinal region, you know? Sure you do! Fuck yeah! Groins!
The kids head back out into the park and they find some hootchie’s dancin’ on stage, led by Estrella’s sister, the exotic and mysterious Carmalita, with a look so alluring it would make oatmeal remain at room temperature! Cash is immediately hooked as if he’d received a particularly tasty dose of smack, or in Carmalita’s case, smuck. He ditches his friends like a pair of tranny hookers after your wad is blown and enters the tent.
Outside the tent the carnival barker asks one of the hotter dancing girls if she’d like to go out on a date, now check this out, at her house, cooking steak for him in her kitchen! That is some serious Fonz-like coolness there my friends, yes sirree! Since I heard that line 4 women have slapped the shit out of me and another told me to ‘get fucked’- 2 of them because I tried that line! I’ve got to work on that one, learn to make it work, yes sir!
Now comes the first musical/dance number with a bevy of super-hot dancing girls in slaughtered zebra flesh outfits (yum!), and a troupe leader with a set of gams that go up to her eyebrows, yow! They do a cool number then Carol Kaye sings “It Only Hurts When He Doesn’t Use Lube”, a softer/slower song, she’s got a great voice, it’s a nice song. (See how nice I’m being? See, I like this film and Steckler! Understand? Otherwise…)
Then comes Carmalita’s ‘strip’-'tease’, no pole – I know, can you believe it? Cash stares, riveted, as Carmalita proceeds to.. not really strip and.. not really dance… oh baby! As he watches, like some phantom from a haunted tobacco field, Ortega materializes in a puff of smoke behind Cash and hands him a note from Carmalita asking if he’s interested in a threesome with Estrella and herself? Cash can hardly contain his excitement, lucky fucker!
After ‘accidentally’ barging into the dancers’ dressing room, no bush or anything by the way, not even a nipple(!), Cash finds the gypsy strumpet in her dank and poorly lit dressing room. She bids him go behind some curtains and he excitedly envisions a rickety cot with stained sheets a-waiting, yet when the curtains part he’s confronted with the dreaded ‘hypnotic cheese wheel’, that, you know, hypnotizes you..with cheese..surrounded by Ortega and her sister. He falls helplessly under the irresistible spell of the cheese wheel, the smell of stilton is simply more than his weakened senses could take. Mme. Estrella succeeds in mesmerizing our helpless teen heartthrob as Ortega huffs on dried cow dung and Carmalita..just sorta stands there and one wonders, where can I find a hot gypsy outfit in a childs size 5?!? Estrella commands Cash to…do something, we’re not actually let in on it, you think we would be but ..oh, I see! Steckler is building suspense! How could I have doubted his genius? Shit. Then the camera spins round and around, real artistic-like, fuck it’s things like that that make the universe worth not destroying!
Back at the music theater a really really white guy on bennys is droning on,wondering where your heart is so he can cut it out and devour it, then the oreo introduces Pat and Pat who begin their dance routine, then we are treated, nay, honored to behold the most awesome murder scene in the history of motion pictures, it’s just that damn great, man!!!
Pat and Pat begin their routine as usual, unfortunately Pat, having gone to see Mme. Estrella, had neglected to down her required dose of Witch Hazel so she’s actually dancing ok when she turns around to face Pat, and there, looming, like the silent-film Nosferatu rising from his coffin, his eyes transfixing your gaze as icy terror tugs at the shoe-strings of your crappy-ass Walmart Nike ripoff sneakers, like turning on the radio to be confronted with the life-stealing, banshee-like wail of Glee, and when you lunge at the control knob to change the station it breaks off in your trembling hand…wait,what the fuck was I talking about? …oh, right, cough… as Pat turns there in front of her looms Cash, our beloved Cash, Ray Dennis Steckler himself, standing, raised blade in hand, with a look in his eyes that will haunt your mortal soul,( yeah that’s right, you ain’t going nowhere after you croak, suckers!), the intense helplessness, the visible inner struggle between the opposing forces of his two brains (wink!), the feral rage invoked by the vengeful gypsy..who’s still hot as shit, I don’t care I totally would, that crusty wart might feel good on the tip …sigh, anyway, all of this and probably less does Pat see in his frenzied stare as the knife flashes downward like the sword of Damocles itself into her.. cheekbone. ..( How is THAT for a run-on sentence my fellow miscreants? I coulda broken it up but fuck it, a new personal record! Yeah!) The wounded and stunned Pat hits the floor like soggy hamburger meat and Cash proceeds to stab her fallen body over and over, enjoying the delicious warmness of here life’s blood covering his hands,mmmm. Then he turns his basilisk gaze to Pat, who is standing there totally aroused and shitting himself, and again the blade slices down, in a downward direction, and Pat turns to show how a cheap bloody make-up job can look pretty darn cool. He hits the floor to join Pat and their running blood mingles together as the delighted audience howls for more! The zombie-like Cash, his mission accomplished, exits stage left and chaos ensues as the audience rushes forward to take photos and vids to post on youtube for a thousand bucks, and a couple of particularly savvy souls gather up the blood to sell on ebay – smart! Let that be a lesson to you all, don’t squander a perfectly good opportunity to profit off of the misfortunes of others! You snooze, you lose!
What a scene, you just want to hit the pause button, whip it out and go at it until a 2-ply sheet of Bounty simply ain’t enough, you know what I mean!?! ..and isn’t that what art is all about? Uncle Grumpyfuk says hell yes! You’re fuckin’a right it is! Groins! Woo!!!
Next our ingenious director and crew really strut their stuff and we see Cash thrashing about in his bead, haunted by the coolest dream sequence in all of film, I am fucking serious damn it! Super-imposed images flash across the screen, the dancing girls and Cash, played by Pat, with Darth Maul’s makeup, dancing and whirling around, smoke, fire, camel toes, Estella, Ortega’s dashing features, all choreographed and filmed by the future award-winning crew. It’s a haunting and totally addictive scene you just want to watch over and over, it’s like smack without the puking! Glorious.
The next morning Cash cruises over to his old lady’s house to see if she’s sorry for being such an uptight bitch, when, during the conversation she begins to spin an open umbrella which vaguely reminds us, and Cash, of the hypnotic cheese wheel. This pisses him off and he begins to throttle Angie Baby’ – she deserves some roughing up anyway for that crap attitude of hers. Gotta keep’em in line or before you know it they’ll want to start driving and voting and shit! Crazy times. He gleefully continues, enjoying the warm feel of her convulsing trachea in his cold hands when he sees the image of Pat’s face and squeezes Angie’s delicate neck all the harder, achieving a righteous boner in the process. Suddenly her brother Madison,who can’t wait any longer for his turn, throws Cash to the ground and as Angie stares with bemused curiosity at Cash, her brother takes over and finishes throttling her, living the dream.
Cash, meanwhile, flees the scene and wanders around the city, giving us some great camera shots of an LA lost in the past and eventually he makes his way back to the carnival for some serious payback for the playful gypsy duo. His mistake however was in not bringing along his one-man Greek posse for backup, and Cash is quickly hypnotized all over again and once more sent out to kill..someone, which turns out the be the dancer who was going to cook steak for the tre-cool barker. We arrive at her pad and she’s about to light up when she looks down her long poorly-lit hallway and spots Steckler, knife in hand, stalking down the hall towards her, knife again raised for action and dispatches her after a brief struggle. Then the barker knocks on the door, sees the light go out, smells that hot poon a-waiting’, or so he thinks as he enters,calling her name. WE see his silhouette and then Cash’s silhouette behind his, knife raised, end of scene. Spooky stuff folks – Hitchcock Shmitchcock, this is the shit right here!
Now we’re treated to the best of the dance/song numbers as Carol Kaye and the girls get ‘Shook out of Shape’! I fucking love this song so fucking much it’s almost criminal, and the addition of Carol in a hilarious but totally hot rooster tail outfit and the smoking hot dancing girls…whew, damn, settle down boy, settle down! Apparently the dancers had no rehearsal time for these numbers but those bare legs are a kicking and pumping, yea-howdy!!!
After dispatching the dancing girl at her house Cash mechanically heads back to the carnival to get his ‘reward’ from the gypsy couple, woo-hoo! However his reward,instead of a nice threesome turns out to be a bunch of acid in the face – I’d take the two gypsy bitches myself but to each his own! Our poor hero stand as the corrosive liquid dissolves his pristine features, though we don’t actually see anything, turning him into a ..mixed up zombie! somehow..or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Estrella and Ortega lead the helpless post-op teen to be put with the ‘others’,however as the cage door opens the mixed up zombies escape by..walking out of the door! I guess it takes mixed up zombies a while to figure things out, you know? They then attack Estrella and Ortega, can you believe it?!? After supplying the pathetic creatures with a filthy cage for a home, 2 bowls of gruel a day and hourly anal punishment this is the thanks they get? Talk about gratitude! Jeez! Outnumbered, the conniving couple quickly succumb to the zombies’ mixed up assault and we shed a tear; never again will we be dazzled by Ortega’s suave manner and good looks, or be turned on by Estrella’s mole,it’s almost too much to bear! Sniff.
Hearing the commotion Carmalita moves to investigate but is quickly dispatched by a zombie, then all hell breaks loose. The zombies wander into the cafe and then the last dance number, the now famous ‘Zombie Stomp’ begins. After the entertainment the cops burst in and start shooting everything that moves, followed by Harold, Angie Baby and Madison, who are searching for Cash to get their paychecks! Cash, seeing them enter, jumps out of the window and tries to take a powder, hoping to avoid paying any of the actors involved in the film now that the movies is ending, so the trio takes off after him, followed by the police, sounds familiar eh? Ha!
The chase moves to the ocean and when he gets a clear shot the cop raises his pistol. “Do it!” scream the actors, “The insurance company will pay us what he owed us!”,so he takes the shot. Poor Cash plummets onto the rocks below and into the ocean,but miraculously makes it back to shore, still hoping to escape- one tough motherfucker! Yet he finally collapses on the sandy ground and buys the farm, and a not terribly bright and rather lazy and cheap star has been extinguished, sniff, and the actors sue the insurance company and get their dough after 2 years of court appearances and Angie Baby blowing the judge. The End.
There you have it folks and just in the nick of time, Uncle Grumpyfuk just ran out! Time to go on the hunt if you know what I mean! (wink!wink!) So until next time my fellow ugnugs, this is your favorite little teddy bear all covered with mold and spunk reminding you, “There’s no such thing as too much lube or too small a hole!” Groins! Woo!!!
Hey there folks, Uncle Grumpyfuk cumin’ right atcha 10-4 good buddies! I just got back from the local Cub Scout Jamboree, teaching those juicy young lads the safe and correct basics of leathercrafting and knot tying – valuable life-skills we adults should feel obligated to teach the young,velvet-skinned leaders of tomorrow, and as David Carradine taught us, we don’t want any embarrassing little accidents happening,no sir Grasshopper! The boys were great, their minds (and bottoms,heh!) are just like sponges at that age, just ready to soak up anything you throw at or on them! Mercy!
Well folks today we’re going to review an arousing little piece of horrific splendor entitled “The Horrors of Spider Island” or “How the Swiss Family Robinson Should Have Gone!”.
We begin with a righteous set of wheels pulling up to a building and a well-dressed couple gets out,the tension makes “Henry Portrait of a Serial Killer” feel like “Mary Poppins”,shit! The bright sunny afternoon and open air add to the ominous pall that creeps into our souls and private parts. We quickly gather that ‘Gary’, a twinkle-toed Italian guy with impressive man-boobs, and Georgia, a woman with less than impressive woman-boobs are two agents contracted by Zepo Marx to secretly hire a troupe of transvestites for a dancing tour of Singapore to contract the deadly Unmellow-yellow Mono-gono-rhea and return home to infect the unsuspecting American public. I know,I know, I wish I’d thought of it too but we gotta give credit where credit’s due, sigh…
We’re introduced,one by one to the ‘girls’ and Uncle Grumpyfuk has to admit,they look and dance even better than Rupal on muscle relaxers so ships ahoy! we can easily envision some some happy ass Singapore sailors in the near future- eight eager trannies looking good enough to where a couple of bottles of Boonesfarm and some horse tranquilizers could make for an evening of serious potential blackmail material! ..heh!…ahem…aaanyway..
The group boards a small twin-prop airplane and after taking off and traveling a good ways over the Pacific it transforms into a much larger 4-prop bomber, pretty cool I must say. They suddenly begin to take flack from a small island below,the Japs who had diligently waited for the cursed Yanks since the war began in ’43. They were right on target and the bomber takes a nosedive into the drink,exploding like Justin Beiber’s cherry at a John Waters sleep-over, and all lives are lost. …except for our entire group of she-males, their manager and his assistant, who all managed to bail with a life-raft, landing in it one by one so that they all escaped possible death and a certain wetting.
Hair implants still in place they drift for days and days thousands of miles out to sea, even though there’s a rock sticking out of the water to the right. After some unruliness on the part of a dark shaggy brute that goes by the moniker ‘Linda’, Gary is forced to establish his dominant pimp-status and, as punishment, throws all of ‘Linda’s’ amil nitrates into the water,enjoying ‘her’ wails of despair. He then has to put his foot down again and set Jersey Joe, or ‘Babs’ straight after catching ‘her’ rubbing the mouth of the water bottle on ‘her’ crusty anus for laughs. Finally submission is achieved, gotta keep those man-bitches in line yes-siree!
After many days,drifting tens of thousands of miles out to sea one of the guys spots our movies’ namesake, Spider Island…well, actually there are two islands,they don’t tell us which one is Spider Island and they don’t tell us the name of the other island, and it will haunt me ’til my dying day,what was the name of the other island?! Sand Flea Island perhaps? An island inhabited by a mad scientist and his genetically mutated, radioactive sand fleas, as big as spaniels, who he loves as his own children! … I’ll never know.
When they reach the island the ‘girls’ begin to whine and carry on like typical queens and Gary is even forced to carry one of them ashore after discovering ‘she’d ‘ taken half a bottle of Nyquil. They collapse on the beach and after a spell Gary whips them into order and marches them off to explore the island. They moan and whimper until Gary spots a condominium in the distance,orfices quiver however upon entering they find an old bondage slave trussed up like Marilyn Manson at his 10th birthday party, however this old chili-dog knave was deader than a living carbon-based life form no longer imbued with life.
The trannies bolt as one, prancing about ,hamming it up to the umpteenth degree just like real women do,while Gary and Georgia, upon closer inspection deduce that the eunuch’s master had taken things a little too far (wink!) and his heart and left testicle had simultaneously exploded. Unfortunately the cabin reeked from the old slave’s bowels releasing and Gary forces the gagging yammering fudge packers to clean things up. They submit readily enough, quietly hoping for the murderous master’s return in anticipation of a fight with Gary for control of their leathery anal cavities, but no sign of any other people soon dampen their hopes.
After about 2 minutes a fight breaks out over someone’s mention of cellulite and those two blokes go at it like cats, woo-hoo!! I mean they even fight like women(!),slappin’ and rasslin’ about, pulling hair, damn if the ol’ pickle didn’t stiffen a tad! Gary breaks it up, showing once again who’s the boss and tells them they BOTH need to lose some weight! Ha! You ‘da man Gary!
Suffering from serious stress due to pharmaceutical withdrawal and lack of anal deposits has the group’s nerves on edge,and combined with the tropical heat they begin to disrobe. Now I gotta tell you, you’ve got to be impressed with the skills of plastic surgeons and reluctantly admire the dedication of these guys to starve themselves and keep so thin and feminine-like, the ol’ zipper is straining once again I gotta tell ya’! To add to the nuance, while this is going on some of the best soundtrack music of all time begins to play, that saxophone sounds like it’s spooging all over the front row of the audience by golly! I can’t wait ’til this comes out on cd!
Meanwhile Gary, exhausted from his busy pimp duties finds the condo owners Glock 9mm automatic,which he refers to as a revolver, ( hey, pimps don’t have to be smart just forceful right?) and takes off into the woods for a little walkabout. As he walks about he’s plagued with huge sand fleas ( yeah, uh-huh, right!)…and while he’s swatting at one on his temple, with his gun hand, he manages to decorate the surrounding foliage with small bits of skull fragments and brain matter, leaving our rugged manager a tad dazed and confused. He proceeds to wander off in search of zinc and Bob from Sesame Street, leaving the insecure girly-men alone to fend for themselves.
The next morning the guys put on their makeup, split up and search around fruitlessly (ha, get it?) for Gary who has meanwhile found his way back to the condo and unfortunately stumbles upon ‘Linda’ whom he gleefully forces to bob for river rocks, indefinitely! He then then spots Tiny Tim floating on the horizon, motioning him to come to him and wanders into the ocean never to be seen again until his next film.
The girls give up looking for Gary after a good 20 minutes of searching and after 3 more hours finally find the condo where they find the buoyant ‘Linda’ still bobbing for river rocks. They run in circles and shriek until they get tired and as they sit and continue to wail and carry on Georgia digs a deep grave in the rocky baked earth. Arnold or ‘Anne’ see his chance and stands at the edge of a cliff, totally faking it, until the others finally notice and ‘save’ him, fawning over him and carrying him back, fucking attention whore.
Unrest follows the leaderless group and soon Jersey Joe and Murray are at it like pro rasslin divas, and they may be guys but wow it’s more stimulating than a weeks’ worth of episodes of Romper Room! Then they see Gary’s hands come through the window as he tries to snatch a tampax but he disappears as quickly as he appears.
After a few sticky weeks a pair of Mary Kay reps motor up to the island and as soon as they unload their gear the older Moe heads down the path to the local hacienda to engage the occupants to the wonders of the Suckiu Vacuum Cleaner. As soon as his partner is out of sight the younger Bobby heads through the brush to the back of the compound and waits until Moe has the owners distracted. He then plans to sneak up behind the unsuspecting patriarch and finish him off with razor wire before he even suspects his adopted children will soon be orphans once more,for a short time anyway for then the pair plan to help themselves to the contents and occupants of the house for dining and sport (wink!). My kinda guys, eh folks?!? Yeah,ha-ha!
However just as Bobby begins to leave the boat he hears the unmistakable sound of men giggling and after climbing a slender tree trunk several times to get that ‘good feeling’ he climbs a larger tree overlooking the sunny lagoon and what do his horny eyes behold but several of our troupe of trannies splashing around in the shallows, washing the filth from their bodies and scouring the crusty scabs from their rank and pock-marked anuses with the fresh stinging salt water! Sha-wing!
Driven to near hornyological hysteria he sneaks down to the edge of the rocks where Gregory, or ‘Gladys’ has drifted away from the others. Bobby tazes him violently and while still spazzing like my neighbors cat in the bug zapper! …would probably look, you know, if it hit the bug zapper, heh…ahem, yes..anyway the other guys who only hear the commotion bolt like party-goers at Corey Haim’s most recent shindig leaving Bobby and a still twitching ‘Gladys’ alone to become acquainted with each others’ back sweat,(winky-wink!).
The guys all join up in the woods and the wetter ones begin to tell of ‘Gladys’ fate when they hear Moe coming down the trail singing that song, you know, that song …by that hot chick with the brown hair..YOU KNOW…that song!!! Shit! Anyway after capturing Moe and forcing him to lick Georgia’s still unwashed twazzer to prove he’s a friend they lead him towards the condo for humiliation games and s’mores! Bobby and a shaky ‘Gladys’ soon join the group and the party,she is on!
The guys dress up in their Singapore Island Whore hula-hoochee girl outfits and damn, the horse tranquilizers wouldn’t even be necessary! It’s a South Sea Sausage Fest, crabs for free, with raunchy saxophone lounge music and drunk swinin’ trannies, yee-haw!! Well Moe and Bobby spend the evening taking turns abusing the giggling choad worshipers purty mouths until Bobby is lured into the bush with a promise of candle waxing and crystal meth.
Unfortunately on his way to the lagoon Bobby falls to his knee- years of cheap cigarettes, rotgut island rum, stimulants, depresents and an addiction to monkey adrenal gland pancakes, courtesy of IHOP, have taken their toll and he lays projectile vomitting all of the precious alcohol and monkey glands he’d just consumed, and continues to do so until reduced to a withered corpse that bears a striking resemblance to a male Joan Rivers. Things are also not going so well back at the condo either.
After dining on lobster marinara the guys are sitting around comparing califlowers when Butcher McCree, or ‘Teena’ leaps to his feet and starts raving about fiddler crabs with Sharon Ozzborne faces and suddenly dashes out of the cabin,into the woods. The shocked group look at one another when they one by one begin to also feel a bit queasy and anti-gravitational.
Apparently the canned mushrooms that ‘Babs’ used in their meal were 2 weeks out of date and the hallucinatory effects were beginning to make themselves known…good deal!! Sadly ‘Teena’ wasn’t aware and the guys decide to try to find him before he hurts himself,it’s his turn to wash the dishes anyway! They light torches and join in pursuit of their addled member but are quickly distracted by the killer trailers produced by the torches they were all carrying. As they run in circles whirling the torches around and laughing, poor ‘Teena’ runs head on into some quicksand and hastens his demise attempting to dive for pearls. The guys laugh it up and head back to the condo,finishing the night out by tying up and buttfucking poor Moe. Then we see a ship sailing off.
The end.
Truly a great film, I was momentarily confused by the end credits,what with the womens’ names,then I thought about it, duh, stage names! Sorry folks,brain fart. Well I guess ol’ Grumpyfuk is going to jump online and check out hottrannies.com and see what there is to see! I’m used to them a bit younger,I do love my veal but we must always be open-minded and always try to experience and bugger new things in life! Ariba!
Take care folks, Uncle Grumpyfuck will be back atcha soon with another sharp and insightful critique of another golden piece of spider poop! I’m outta here!
In retrospect I guess the reason they called it Spider (singular )Island must have been because there was only one spider.
We’re taken back suddenly to the young Sodomite couple,still going at it hours later,and yet again our fun is ruined by the arrival of the fuzz..I swear to Manos if they ruin our potential fluid covered fuck scene one more time I will take a stick and draw unflattering caricatures of their 4 mothers in the sand and piss on them!!! Damn!..sigh…
Meanwhile Frank Zappa wakes up looking fresh as a daisy, gives Tunafish Sandwich Man a pupparoni, says his 10 hail Manos’s, and bids his snoozing slave chicks awaken. One minute they’re part of the decor,then quicker than OJ slicing white meat they’re babbling away like hens on robin eggs. Small surprise. They yammer and bicker over whether to sacrifice an unclean tardling to their loving demigod and finally a 6-vegan tag team of epic proportions begins. ..and much semen is spilled. Seriously, from Enter the Dragon to Gymkata you will never find choreography to compare to this dazzlingly arousing vag-battle. It’s just that good,damn, more peppermint for the grands! Heh!
Back home, as Torgo counts little hunchback sheep Frank arrives and after gaining control of his lust wakes the sleeping manservant with a tender tap on his hot curly weenie, with his staff. Whoa, settle down ladies. Torgo stirs and after an argument over missing dandruff on the slave chicks shoulders, Frank banishes him from the Junior League forever. The shock is too much and our hero swoons like John Waters at a Justin Beiber concert. Frank then delivers a demoniacal laugh and mesmerizing gaze that would chill the blood of ..I don’t know, something with a lot of blood I guess,I don’t know, a tick or something..no, a cow, it would chill the blood of a large cow,okay?
Back to the bound and still unconscious Mr W, the dingos have apparently smelled his young malformation’s stench upon him and have left him alone to die of exposure when one of Frank’s walking mushrooms sneaks up to him, then in a total confusion of emotion she passionately sucks his teeth clean then slaps the living crap out of him several times in an unsuccessful attempt to rid him of head lice.
Master Zappa in the meanwhile,with one of his trollops and the subdued Torgo return to their squatters camp to find the other nymphs STILL going at it! ..and we’ve been missing it all this time! Damn your eyes Jew directorproducterscreenplay guy! Shit! ..His personal strumpet leaps onto one of the combatants and smacks her fillings out before Frank immediately settles them down by holding up a bottle of xanax. Frank then orders the sweaty mosh crowd to do away with Torgo so they engage in a scene of group petting and tickling that makes your scrotum itch, until he suffers an aneurysm from an overabundance of shoulder pheromones. What a way to go for our hero,makes you wish you had large calcium deposits on your back too don’t it?! Over all of this Coletrane and Liberace just cannot get coordinated on the soundtrack music. Then suddenly the supposedly dead Torgo gets up and Frank turns his hand into another charred addition to the inside decor and Torgo escapes to Guatemala to found a new church in the name of his newest savior, Captain Beefheart.
Meanwhile Mr. W has woken up and escaped from the pretend bonds,rushing to get his lovely bride and their casualty of creation away from there before Frank gets his mic and amplifiers set up. We then see that Frank is killing some time slapping the dogshit out of his first wife,by Manos how many men wish…sigh,nevermind. One of his skags then informs him that the family has escaped and Frank orders them pursued and brought back before Sanford and Son begins,they scramble to do so. The family finally decides to go back to the abode,though they’ve eluded capture up to then, but as they return and approach the compound, Frank and Tunafish Sandwich Man emerge to go for walkies. Mr W whips out his pistol and fires away,intent on revenge for the Valley Girls movie,however Frank being dead as a doornail is unaffected by the simple blanks.
The movie closes with a couple of skanky prostitutes driving up into the sticks to hit up their meth dealer for some smoke when they come upon the compound and Mr. W walked out and starts delivering Torgo’s dialogue. Apparently Frank wanted to be in the sequel and offered Mr. W Torgo’s job in trade for his clinging vine wife and their stunted cabbage cub. Naturally Mr. W goes for it and we have a happy ending and the film closes with another awful number by Kitt,ugh, singing.
There you have it, an accurate and informative review and critique of a film that has grown like a lovely poisonous mushroom into the classic it deserves to be viewed as,praise Manos.
Hey Gang, The Primal Root here! I just wanted to introduce you to our latest contributor to the Trash Cinema Collective,the lovable little sleazeball, Uncle Grumpy Fuck! He will be joining us to muse about the most notable of dumpster nuggets from yesteryear in his own, trademarked, bizarro style. Note, this man doesn’t give a shit about our societies need for political correctness, the guy calls it like he sees it and never holds back. And this makes his writing incredibly funny to read. So without any further a due, enjoy Uncle Grumpy Fuck’s look back at the Trash Cinema Classic, “Manos”: Te Hands of Fate.
Stay Trashy,
-The Primal Root
an Uncle Grumpy Fuck recollection
…mmmm, yes, that’s good sweetie,the peppermint is just a little further down, just keep..oh.. hi! You’re old pal Uncle Grumpyfuk here- no-no sweetie just keep going- just babysitting the grands, heh,heh. Today we’ll be reviewing the masterpiece from the creator of Lassie, “Manos, Hands of Fate” …mmm oohhh yes sweetie,there’s your peppermint,now wipe your mouth and run along Billy,go find and play with your sister! Heh,kids!
The film begins with some light traffic,the blood begins to congeal. A convertible pulls over and we’re introduced to Mike…Something (Hal Warren,the director and producer,who also wrote the screenplay,talk about cheap, jeez,ah these Hollywood jews…), and his wife Margaret..Something(Diane Mahree,cute but possesses the acting talent of chloroform), we’ll call the couple Mr. & Mrs. W and their unfortunate daughter ‘Debbie’ who is apparently severely retarded,therefore she will be addressed as all retarded children should be addressed, with revulsion and nauseous contempt. Her little dog sucks too.
The family drives for a few moments when they get pulled by a pair of representatives of our police state for extortion purposes, however after the father rightfully blames everything on their retarded daughter the gullible swine allow them to leave unmolested, due to a moment of unaccustomed empathy for the couple’s shame. After a number by Urtha Kitt is abruptly interrupted by some shroomed out beatnik warbling about ‘doing a thing’ or some such thing, it sounded disgusting, we flash to a young Sodomite couple swilling alcohol and fornicating publicly,and just as we’re led to believe things are looking up, shit! Here come the Keystone ..Police ..Guys to break up their tonsil-rimming and send them on their way. This is one scene that truly reflects real life btw, Zig Fucking Heil America!!! Lousy Pigs!…pant,pant…
Anyway, back to Mr and Mrs W,with their little gimp and her crappy dog,they’ve become lost and hit a dead end, turn around and quicker than you can say ‘anal probe fapfest’ they come upon a compound…that wasn’t there before! Spooky, but there,framed in the doorway is the true lead of the film, Torgo the twitching spastic hunchback played with masterful grace and intensity by John Reynolds, esquire. It must be said that Reynolds portrayal of our tortured hunchback sets the new standard by which all hunchbacks have been graded since, Charles Lawton and Christy McNichol shall be forgotten forever more.
Though extremely reluctant, and understandably so due to their unfortunate daughter and her four-legged mangeloaf, and despite his warnings that his ‘Master’ will be displeased by their presence the gracious Torgo invites the family to stay. His convincingly painful limp and jittery mannerism are a quintessential study of the method style of acting. As they enter the adults immediately halt to admire the fashionable Layne Bryant Fall decor, notable the mantle decorations, some charred human arms and a bust of Spock, and above the mantle is a flattering portrait of the Master; apparently Torgo is a disciple of Frank Zappa and his faithful doberman pincher familiar, Tunafish Sandwich Man. As the couple stares stupidly at the painting,secretly gagueing it’s potential value on ebay, at least 14.00 surely, Debbie tries to …I’m sorry,I apologize but my disgust demands I refrain from using an undeserved human name for the couple’s genetic malfunction, therefore I will simply use the first syllable and henceforth refer to her simply as Deh, and as for her crappy little dog, he shall be known from here on as…Crappy Fucking Little Dog. That’s better…anyway she tries to cornhole the crusty pooch when it actually stands on two legs and begs to be taken to the gas chamber rather than spend another horrid day with their little tax writeoff.
Suddenly outside a castrated dingo achieves a righteous orgasm and Mr W and Crappy Fucking Little Dog rush out to watch and possibly participate,however the excitement is too much for Crappy Fucking Little Dog and his tiny inbred heart gives out. He croaks on the spot and Joy is ours, Manos be praised! The parents tell a convincing lie to Deh, that Crappy Fucking Little Dog ran away to find a normal,unretarded little girl to love. Her tears give us comfort. They decide to leave but the car won’t start, they whine at the patient Torgo for a minute,then again their attention becomes arrested by the hypnotic portrait of Zappa,and while thus enthralled Deh wanders outside to look for mealworms.
After realizing she’d disappeared and thoroughly searching the sparsely furnished room they try standing on the front stoop and calling in an almost convincing note of despair. They turn to see Deh with Tunafish Sandwich Man who tears away from the rancid smelling childling the moment the opportunity presents itself. Deh croaks out in her caustic tard language of some strange people (note irony), she then takes them to a nearby clearing to find Frank and some girls from his drum circle crashed out, no doubt wacked on wheatgrass goofballs and excessive masturbation.
The family of 2 1/2 rush back to Torgo’s abode and while the father tries unsuccessfully to start the car, Torgo and Mrs. W get busy, yeah. Torgo’s Bondesque technique and charm rival even Shields and Yarnell on demerol, lulling Mrs. W into a frozen figure of wanton desire (look for wet spot in front of dress, oh yeah) as Torgo masterfully pushes all of her shoulder buttons,Torgo you dog, you are the Man! His sensual afterglow recalls Paris Hilton after getting shagged like an alley cat on the web,meow! ..and, like a sated feline Mrs. W slaps him passionately signalling that the coupling is complete. No piggies to break up this raunchy porn scene,no-siree Bob!
Meanwhile Torgo has made his way to the glen and after cackling and babbling at everyone he gives one of the drum circle girls some sweet Torgo shoulder love, (going for the hat trick tonight, you dog!) then passes out from the effort, yeah, we know about that one eh guys? Heh,oh yeah! You go buddy!
Torgo heads back to the house and makes his way to the bedroom window where the still tingling Mrs. W is stripping in anticipation of more shoulder action. Our hero leers in from the window like Rosie O’Donnell at a cheerleading contest,in a truly classic scene for the ages. Mrs. W pretends to be surprised, yeah, nice ‘acting’ baby. Mr. W has gone back to the glade when Torgo puts a whippin’ on him with his hand stick, and an awesome duet by Liberace and John Coltrane begins, the saxophone virtuosity is amazing while Torgo kills 3 minutes of film time tying up the uncooperative director/producer screenwriter. He then leaves the unconscious father for the dingos to devour at their leisure…
