Posts Tagged ‘Uncle

18
Nov
12

Uncle Grumpyfuk Remembers ‘The Undertaker and His Pals’!

Uncle Grumpyfuk Remembers…
Sigh, hey there folks, yer ol’ pal Uncle Grumpyfuk sitting here, a bit in the doldrums today. As the grandmaster comedian Jerry Lewis would say, “Creativity is hard sometimes, it’s not an easy thing.” It leaves you speechless. Who says we have no great philosophers in this day and age? Well writing IS hard, it’s not an easy thing, it’s hard to put into words…heh-heh.
It’s like,  I don’t know… you know when you’re at the Friday Night Mud Rasslin’ Extravaganza and you eat a big bag of hot roasted peanuts,then later the next morning when you’re taking a squat and they’re slowly grinding and scraping their way out, you rub your inflamed anus clean, the minute peanut crumbs tearing the delicate white tissue,however there remains one tiny jagged little chunk that eludes the toilet paper like a vicious,sentient little sandspur maneuvering to avoid your attempts to remove it so that finally you have to take your fingernail and…what? What?! Oh,I see ‘that’s disgusting’ is it?  What, do you think you’re reading the blog of your favorite fairy from the Hallmark channel? This is TrashCinema folks, if you can’t take it then you can wad it up and stuff… sigh, hey, you know what? Fine, Uncle Grumpyfuk is in a fairly mellow mood today so fine, you want something more pleasant? Fine. Something perhaps with beautiful flowers or something? Fine, never let it be said Uncle Grumpyfuk can’t be flexible, at times.. somewhat…a little.
Fine then, ahem, you know what it’s like when you.. when you eat a bunch of fucking daffodils and later when you’re trying to crap them out and the putrid, partially digested petals are sticking to the walls of your rectum like adhesive tape and you finally have to use the tweezers because tp won’t touch them? Well that’s what creative writing is like. Eh? …well fuck you too! I tell you it makes perfect sense, to me anyway,you just don’t ‘know’. Yeah. Well then for the rest of your lives you remember that pretty little mental image I just planted in your minds whenever you see a pot of fucking daffodils! Yeah, ha-ha! I’m starting to feel better!
  Well, speaking of bouquets, we’re going to review an aromatic funnel plant of a film today, the bizarre and nonsensical “The Undertaker and His Pals” which reminds me of that old joke; “What did the corpse of General Grant say to the corpse of General Lee on the 100th anniversary of the Civil War?” …Nothing! Jesus weren’t you listening? They’re both dead! My God if i said ‘Simon says stick your dicks in your mouths’ you’d break your spines trying, it’s like talking to the army of fiddler crabs as you run in ever tightening circles around them, causing them to pile up on top of one another in their panic, until you light and throw the M80… but alas, I have no M80s, sigh. You people are soooo fucking lucky! (breathes in deeply)  Shit,I feel much better now!
  Ok, the film begins with a trio of motorcycles riding in circles at night. They stop at a phone booth, one looks up an address and off they go. As they approach an intersection at which they have a stop sign, they come to a complete stop, look to the left,the right, then the left again and then turn right and proceed,carefully observing the speed limit all the while. ..what the fuck? Grrr, well something is coming,I feel it… or it’s those tulip petals! Ha! Thiiink aboouut it! 😉
  They pull up to an apartment building,one goes through the front entrance and finds ‘Lamb’ on one mailbox,while the others park around back and climb up the fire escape,somehow knowing which room is the right one. Hmm. The camera suddenly focuses on a sweet pair of feminine feet – mm-mmm, shrimp cocktail! We pan slowly up a righteous pair of gams that are attached to a pretty hot blonde who is putting the final touches on her latest blacksploitation novel “The Ghost of Uncle Tom’s Choad”. “..and her squeals went unheard as the storm raged outside. The End “. She sighs and leans back into her chair, reaching into the drawer and lighting a reefer to celebrate when a knock upon the door stops her in mid-toke. Damn I hate that! She scrambles to stash when biker #1 at the door bursts in and the two who crept up the back fire escape climb in through the window. She backs away,unsure whether the three figures are, like, real, or whether it’s just the reefer when the front man grabs her. As they struggle the other two pull out really fakey plastic knives and front man throws her on them,and it’s really fake, I mean really. She dies and they cut off her leg then our hearts leap as we think ‘Frankenhooker”? but think ‘No way.’ just as quickly. The Sherman Williams Red No.3 Flat Finish flies everywhere and the bikers escape with their trophy, her leg! …oookay…well, why take just one?
          Next we’re outside the front of the local funeral parlour,and they give savings stamps, what a nice service! We see Mama Fat and Papa Skinny enter, Mama Fat blubbering away, heh, get it? The undertaker sees them enter,presses a tape player and the films crazy theme plays for a sec,then he switches to the standard funeral music, he escorts them to the coffin where Blondie Lamb lies,with her eyes open and looking at them! What a great idea! He then hits them with the bill and engages in a little mental torture when they refuse to pay. This guy is pretty cool.
  Now we’re at an office where a slick suit is totally dissing his hot-ass secretary, Miss Poultry (easy Grumpy, eeasy!). They get in a righteous set of wheels and head over to the Greasy Spoon where we meet Spike the waiter and Doc the cook,a friendly pair. The couple order the daily special, the ‘leg of Lamb’ and we finally get it! Oho, forcing unsuspecting patrons to engage in cannibalism! Suh-weet! One of those things we’ve all wanted to do in life, if only once. The couple devour the cooked human flesh with relish, literally, ‘goes great with blondes’, 😉 and they leave full and content, resolved to go back for more of that yummy Lamb. It is said you know, by members of that particular culinary fraternity that it is the sweetest of meats!
  Slick takes Miss Poultry home and takes off without even getting a quickie in, so inside she’s about to call Spot when she hears someone outside doing the worst cat imitation you’ve ever heard – your retarded sibling can do better…not really. She walks back to be confronted by the bikers who are also looking for the terrible cat-caller,they were going to see if he really did sound like a cat with broken knee-caps. Both parties glare at one another,convinced the other is the afore mentioned cat-caller so Miss Poultry goes on the offensive and comes at them like a fighting cock on Vivarin, however it’s 3 to 1 so she ends up being shish-ka-bobbed on the fence. Meh, it’s been done.
 The investigation the next morning yields little evidence, the portly officer in charge being more interested in lunch takes off and Slick turns to see our undertaker has appeared out of nowhere. Slick springs for the cheapest funeral for Miss Poultry,what a guy, then hits the Greasy Spoon for a good meal! Whew, that bitch had been getting way too clingy. What a break the ol’ cosmos had thrown him, yes sir!
          Back at the Spoon, Doc is in the back obsessively reading medical textbooks on surgery when the darkie delivery man shows up,and while poking around he discovers the identity of their ‘secret meat’ flavor hanging in the walkin cooler so Doc appropriately buries a cleaver in his noggin, and Spike,seeing what happened, makes a witty ‘dark meat’ remark to one of the customers about the chicken special. Har-har!
  Back at the funeral home Slick stops by to inspect the coffin he bought; a bloody shipping crate. He’s quite satisfied, not bad for $149.98! He then heads back to the office and damn, another hot blonde walks in, I mean yowza! Slick plays it cool and pays her to go get some din-din while he masturbates thinking about her elbows, mmmm. She moseys over to the Greasy Spoon, and Doc can’t contain his excitement another moment,deciding this is the day he practices his surgical skills on something other than kittens! “I tore her clothes off!” Spike informs him, “Ah that’s good thinking!” replies the Doc, what a wacky pair of knuckleheads! He slices her open and fondles her inards and she dies, big surprise. So they put her in the meat grinder and Spike changes the special of the day to hamburger. Woomp-waaaaah.
  That night the 3 bikers are back on the prowl and we see a hideous hag in a sauna, molting. As her two companions leave our leather-clad trio enter and quite rightfully beat the living dogshit out of her with a chain and we only wish we could take a swing ourselves. Ugh. The thress sub-stooges hack her up and as they’re leaving with a bloody bag of the choisest parts her two companions return to see them exiting out the window. One grabs a pistol and demonstrates the correct posture and body reactions for a hot female when shooting a handgun. LOL!!! Miraculously she manages to shoot the tag off of one of the bikes and the next morning Slick gets word from the fat cop that it belongs to the undertaker. Slick is shocked! He then finds that Doc and Spike are his accomplices! Here he wanted to thank the person responsible and it’s three guys he knew all along! Ain’t life crazy?
  Back at the Spoon, Doc and Spike are about to kill the undertaker for leaving evidence, but for some inexplicable reason Doc says something you can’t make out and he and Doc kill Spike then vamoose. Talk about temperamental!
  Slick shows up and pokes around, finding Spike has been enjoying an acid-bath until his bones are nice and shiny white! He almost shits his britches when a hand taps him on the back; it’s the twin sister of the blonde Doc and Spike turned into quarter pounders. What she’s doing in the basement of the restaurant is beyond me but this film makes no sense anyway so…  He takes her home, the two remaining bikers follow, he falls asleep before even getting any! Man this guy is slick! They take off the next morn, still followed by Doc and the undertaker,I guess they just sat on their bikes all night in the cold.
  A few miles later Slick’s car ‘runs out of gas’ and now we think we might see some action, a nipple at least, but he bails and leaves her out in Bum Fuk Egypt as bait. The two bikers come along and chase her around with their little rubber knives and it’s totally funny because she runs just like a girl. All of a sudden a produce truck comes barrelling around the bend and flattens Doc but good, and the undertaker scoots his ass out of there quick-like. Slick informs the blonde that her sister was killed by the trio and she seems about as upset as if he’d told her he drank a coke out of her fridge. She walks outside, looks up and there’s the undertaker waiting to shut her up permanently. There’s a lame chase scene using the same set of stairs a bunch of times from different angles and they end up on the roof where he backs her to the edge, lunges at her and falls over the ledge to his supposed death. Notice I said ‘supposed’. She walks downstairs but we see that the undertaker somehow reached 12 feet over and grabbed a railing as he fell and saved himself…right. Well we reached ‘absurd’ a while back so… Blondie goes back to the office where the cop is rubbing his chubby and as they talk the undertaker stalks up from behind a curtain. Just as his hand is ready to strike however the cop accidentally stabs him. …oi. The End! What a fine film!
 Now we have a unique ending, as the credits roll we see everyone who died in the film come back to life and smile and wave at the camera, assuring us they really weren’t killed, and here I was so worried for their families! ,,,Ah-ha-ha-ha!
  Well that wraps up another insightful and uppity-fuk review, enlightening your mind and refreshing your spirit. Yer ol’ pal Uncle Grumpyfuk is going to take a little hiatus and tackle a little comedic B-movie of some note that contains many questionable historical facts and references. Yes Uncle Grumpyfuk is going to review “Roots” …and ah, my M80s just arrived!
05
Nov
12

Uncle Grumpyfuk Remembers ‘Blood Feast’ (1963)

Unkce Grumpyfuk Remembers…

..Ugh..BUURRRPPP! …oh mighty Crom whisk away my poor hungover soul to thy grim grey mountain abode or let me find that damn pill bottle full of cricket legs! Urp,whew, yer ol’ pal Uncle Grumpyfuk comin’ atcha with some serious peach-fuzz on the brain this ..afternoon, shit. Me and a couple of buddies ..rather, a couple of buddies and I, ahem, had some unusually good fortune last night ..and earlier this morning, wait, what time is it? Uh, nevermind..time is…(eyes cross)..uh, give me a few minutes folks. I know you’ve been there. Buuurrp!

  I and my buddy Tangletoe and a fucking crazyass Irish ginger buddy of his…I’ll remember his name in a minute, were sitting in Tangle’s old truck hammering ‘fuckuppers’- Old Ezra Sour Mash Whiskey, Mountain Dew and 14 Sugar Pops -yep the cereal, crushed and stirred in, and a dash of tobasco. Talk about a drink that’ll put fire in your belly and get you going like a handfull of speed! We were listening to the radio and lo and behold, that the local boring shitty rock station was having a ‘beach party’ down at Lake Fornication today at noon so we figured fuck it, let’s pop some more Valium, head down there early and start the party ..13 hours ahead of time! Yee-haw!
  We found our way to the landing around midnight and what did our eyes behold but a party tent already set up under which lay 10 kegs of cold beer and 12 bushels of raw oysters, on ice, and a wasted hippy couple standing around a nice bonfire drinking beer and eating oysters,motioning for us to join the party, aaaand we did..post haste! Ugh, buurp. It was surreal, the radio station had obviously set everything up the night before so they wouldn’t have to in the morning and the braindead dj’s didn’t have the sense to leave someone to guard it! Deerrp! ..and to think those people can drive..and vote! Scary.
  Anyway the hippies left after about an hour or so, so the three of us stood there in front of a roaring fire,drinking and chowing down, having truly found our personal Shangri-la. A little while later,no idea how long, heh, we hear a distant mechanical growl and soon around 8-10 bikers and their old ladies roared up. We encouraged them to join us drinking free beer and eating free oysters,they finally caved after about .12 seconds and the ‘beach party’ was awn! So we sat there for several hours drinking and eating and trading stories of getting busted and wasted, of smashing rival gang members’ heads in with bricks and collecting comic books. At one point one of them saw me drooling at his skanky old lady’s tits so he let me screw her from behind for my 12.00 pocket knife. Let me tell you, whoever says that bikers aren’t good people has never gotten wasted with them and screwed one of their old ladies doggie-style! Hell, she even let Tangletoe and Sanchez,that’s it! Sanchez! …let Tangle and Sanchez have a go just because they were standing there watching! That’s a real woman for you, by cracky!
  Well I guess it was close to 6:00 AM when Tangle and I finally left. Sanchez stayed around for more and the bikers hadn’t slowed down a hair either! When we pulled out of there 2 kegs were empty and a third had been tapped, and almost 4 bushells of oysters had magically disappeared. It was amazing, in over 6 hours not one other person had come by, no cops, no one from the radio station, no other drunken partiers, no one. Shangri-la folks, seriously! After we got home I staggered down the street towards my duplex but felt those oysters wanting to see the light of day again, so, I lurched over to a hated neighbor’s Volvo and puked in the open window all over her upholstery. Ha-ha-ha! We wanted to listen to the radio station this morning to see if they mentioned going out and finding they’d missed their own party, but we totally passed out! Ha! ***
   Today my dear fiends, Uncle Grumpyfuk is proud, nay, honored and humbled to review a pivital film in trash cinema history. This is a film that horrified audiences and changed the art of film forever more..for the better! Fuckin’ay! I speak of one, some say the greatest of the Unholy Trilogy of the legendary Herschell Gordon Lewis, starring our favorite Playboy centerfold Connie Mason! Yes Mrs. Freemont it is exciting! Ha-ha-ha! …ah but I get ahead of myself. Yes my friends, I speak of the drive-in classic, the one and only, “Bloodfeast”! Yes, yes …(over 7 minutes of thunderous applause erupts, finally the din quiets a bit).. yes, thank you, I know, my genitals are covered with anticipatory sweat too. I shall strive to do my very best to honor the King of Gore and one of his masterpieces – I never have been able to decide whether I think this or 2000 Maniacs is better…AND Gruesome Twosome…I-I don’t know… I just love them all so much! (applause) Yes,we all do. Thank you, thank you.
  The film opens with a tense kettle drum beat and we see none other than Barbara Handler, daughter of the creator of the Barbie Doll, who named it after her! It’s her, I’m totally serious. I swear on your children’s’ future graves it’s her! ..Well ok it’s not her, but just look at’er! She’s the spit and image! You just want to pull her head off and give it to the family dog and pour lighter fluid on her body and set it ablaze! Damn!
  Anyway she turns on the radio as a report of ‘another murder’, that a girl was found ‘brutally mutilated’ and that all females should stay in after dark. The news ends and she strips her clothes off – tasty, and gets into a bubblebath. Now that is a great opening to any film, regardless of genre. She’s a scrub-dub-dubbin’ away, getting Miss Puss all nice and clean when she’s shocked to look up and see the psychotic eyes and dashing features of the protagonist of the film, one of your favorite actors, and mine; Mal Arnold! Yaaay! .. STAND AND APPLAUD you pisswipes!!! This man is the walking breathing definition of a cult star! ..well he’s no longer walking or breathing since he croaked but seriously you should applaud, I mean fuck. (more applause) Thank you,thank you.
  He stabs Barbara in the eye and begins hacking away with a carving knife and smiles proudly at his excellent knife-work, holding up a nice bloody giblet so we can see it real good- what a considerate gesture. He has a little more fun then chops off her leg for a keepsake perhaps? ..or possibly a future piece of folk art. Suddenly the screen is filled with the image of a cheap sphinx and pyramid replica,in front of a hotel in my own home state of Florida,where this film was shot! Yaaaay! ..and the credits roll. Thank you,thank you.
  Next we find ourselves down at the pigpen in the homicide bureau chief’s office. Inside he and one of his officers, Pete, played by another “2000 Maniacs” alumni, Connie’s companion Thomas Wood – the two of whom later became married in real life for many happy years; Tom you are the fucking man! – are engaging in some riveting dialogue concerning the murdered women’s’  mutilated states, concluding that a psychological killer just might be involved. Gee, ya think?
  Now we find ourselves outside Fuad Ramses Exotic Catering where our hero Mal, or Fuad runs a grocery/catering operation. In walks a ditzy rich blonde wearing a baby harp seal around her neck and a huge flowery hat any fat old black woman would be proud to wear to church’. She approaches the counter and begins to introduce herself as Mrs Freemont when her voice is cut off by Fuad’s intense,cobra-like gaze that leaves the air-headed bird mesmerized for a short spell, such is his irresistible charisma! At this point I have to mention Mal’s hair and eyebrows; they’re more thickly matted than a sloth’s fur, sans the vermin and disease, and although they appear to be grey, his hair and eyebrows blend in with everything in the background that’s blue. Tre chic Mal! How about it folks? (applause) Thank you, thank you.
  Mrs. Freemont explains that she wishes to throw a surprise party for her daughter, something different and unusual. “What do you consider to be unusual Mrs. Freemont?” inquires Fuad. She doesn’t know of course, stupid bitch, so he delivers the classic line “Have you ever had, an EGYPTIAN FEAST?” and we get a full-on shot of Mal’s dynamic peepers, whoa. She explains her daughter is into ancient Egyptian crap and that it sounded perfect. Fuad gets payment first, then hypnotizes her again, commanding her to give him a sloppy blowjob,then ejaculates on the back of her expensive coat, so that after she left everyone pointed at the gargantuan load dripping down her back like the fucking Blob’s albino offspring,with the dingy ditz blissfully unaware. Fuad you dog-you! Am I right folks? (applause) Thank you,thank you.
  As she leaves he slinks to the back of the store, through a back door to a room where he prays to an incredibly cheesy idol of his chosen goddess Ishtar, a department store mannequin, painted with cheap make-up and sporting the most dubious expression as if she just really isn’t sure about this guy and his goings-on.
  Outside Connie reads the headlines of the daily paper, “Legs Cut Off!” Heh, we’re way ahead of them aren’t we folks? The baffled cops are still pissed and clueless.
  After night-time has set in we see a couple of young lovers laying on the beach sucking face. She’s nervous but Tony really wants some snatcheroosky,so they begin rutting when she looks up and screams. Tony was confused; he hadn’t even mentioned trying anal yet! Wtf! Then he gets a split second glance of Fuad looming over him, machete raised and ready before Fuad smashed him good, then repeats with her. He cuts off the top of her skull for a really neat cereal bowl and takes her brains to boot! ..um, I don’t mean to boot as in kick it around in the dirt, I mean,you know, ‘in addition to’…just clarifying there. Anyway the camera shows some excellent shots of her ‘Jane Mansfield Look’ and concludes by showing some blood and bloody skull fragments in the sand, and about a foot-and a-half away is a boa constrictor being pulled out of camera range by an unseen hand. ..oookay.
  The cops arrive and revive Tony who blubbers and carries on like a foreign woman, totally unable to give them any pertinent information. The performance by the actor portraying Tony is bad on a magnificant scale, Bravo,bravo- actor who played Tony! ..what’s his name? Hell I don’t know, there’s the remote,you rewind it and look it up! Shit, lazy bastards.
  Back at the station the girl’s parents are carrying on like foreign women, at least the mother is, in a truly horrendous performance. All the cops learn is that she belonged to a book club.
  The screen goes red and we see Fuad’s hand placing some meat into a bloody pot and then he gives it a stir. Yummy! ..oooh Uncle Fuad when’s it gonna be ready? I’ze so hungry! Haw-haw-haw! What a knucklehead!
     Next we’re outside the hotel again,I mean apartment building just in time to see a sweet convertible pull up and out climb Abe Vigoda and Doris Day – it’s them I swear! 😉 – four sheets to the wind drunk. They manage to make it upstairs to her apartment door, she ‘gets a headache’, so he heads back down to the car and ends up falling asleep spanking his monkey. Two hours later the police arrive to find him, slimy cock still in hand, snoring away. Take it from yer Uncle, that is SO embarrassing!..though my paw thought it was hilarious. Hmph!
   Well while Abe is slappin’ the sloth who appears peeping around the corner? Yeppers, that devil-may-care kinda guy, our Fuad, up to his shenanegans. He knocks and Doris opens the door, thinking it’s Abe with more booze and one of the most shocking scenes in film history,up to that point anyway, takes place. Fuad reaches into Doris’ mouth and rips out her tongue and once again generously holds it up for our inspection. It’s every bit as awesome as it sounds. It’s said that when Cecil B. DeMille viewed that scene he puked his guts out; talk about a compliment! Damn! Actually it was a sheep’s tongue,but that’s irrelevant, and when Fuad held it up for those 60’s audiences to see they fucking freaked out! I know,you’re envious too, it must have been pure bliss.
  The next scene is priceless. Connie and her mom are at home talking in the living room, discussing the upcoming surprise party and it’s easy to see that Connie is reading all of her lines off of cue cards placed around the room. ” I just shudder when I think about that butcher… that maniac,butchering all of those girls!” That’s a keeper there boys! What a woman,whew, down boy.
  That evening Connie and the cop, we’ll call him Maxwell Notsosmart, attend a lecture on ancient Egypt,the orator’s subject being ancient cults, namely the cult of Ishtar; priestesses, virgins, sacrifices, orgies, dirty rabble – some bloody fun times back then but talk about hazing, geez! As he speaks we get a flashback from those ancient times, of an ancient high priest, who turns out to be our own Mal Arnold again,showing his versatility by playing multiple roles! Thank you,thank you. A female sacrifice lays prostrate on the altar, Mal the high priest offers the sacrifice to Ishtar and places the handle of a plastic knife on her chest! He then quickly pulls it away and attaches a plastic blade with red paint on it and cuts out the girls bloody heart! Barbaric! Oh, and the boa constrictor is back hanging around the scene …but that’s why they call them the good old days folks. Now you point a fucking bb gun at someone’s ass and the feds put the whole fucking nation on magenta alert and declare martial law!
 After the lecture Connie and Maxwell go a-parking. Yay-yuh! He leans back and relaxes while she goes to town on that pole, slobber flying everywhere,showing how she got that Playboy gig! 😉 Heff you suck so badly..you fucking boss!!! Suddenly a radio bulletin interupts the suckfest and announces that another mutilated chick was found somewhere,or something. Pressed for time Maxwell says ‘fuck it’, grabs two handfulls of that golden hair,wraps it around his throbbing manhood and jerks off on top of her head. They teach’em that in cop school. It’s ok, Connie was totally up for it.
  Back at the station Chief tells Maxwell that the girl is still alive though her face looks like she made out with a weed eater. They race to the hospital and after the doctor tells them not to get her excited,they punch her in the stomach and slap her a few times to wake her up and answer a few questions. She tells them it was a wild eyed, wild looking old man who said ‘it was for Eetar, Eetar!’, so they put out an APB for Christopher Lloyd. Then she croaks and it’s really,really funny. I mean it’s a film so of course it’s funny when someone dies,but when she exhales her last breath and falls down,so much dogfood, there’s a little ‘Womp!’ from a trombone,signalling that she’s gone. It’s downright hysterical!
 You know,one thinks sometimes what we’d do differently had we created the universe ourselves, like give sea turtles the ability to breathe fire, or shrink all of the assholes to 4″ in height,to be preyed upon by insects and frogs, give eternal life to the members of Motorhead,that type of thing. It really is an ingenius idea,having it so whenever someone dies, have a little fart-like trombone sound effect signify that life has passed from the mortal shell. ‘Womp.’ “Well,he’s gone..heh-heh-heh.” That would be so fucking funny!
  At the grocery store Fuad opens a letter; an order from Connie for his book, “Ancient Weird Religious Rights”, otherwise known at the AA Handbook, a copy of which each victim has owned. Hmm. He calls and realizes Connie is Mrs. Freemont’s daughter,for whom he’s preparing the banquet! It seems he thinks the feast and sacrifice will bring Ishtar back to life. You never know, Uncle Grumpyfuk says it’s worth a try! Things are just going too well for him and his sly demeanor as he hangs up the phone is truly Oscar worthy. Notice the hair blending in with the blue items behind it? So cool, isn’t it folks? Mal Arnold ladies and gentlemen. (applause) Thank you, thank you.
  Connie and her friends are over at her house enjoying her swimming pool and Connie, now get this, is reading a book! I shit you not. She looks down and reads a page then laughs and it’s like her skull is made of rice paper and we can see her very thoughts. “Words are funny! ..and when you put them together they mean things!” Yep, a real keeper- lucky-ass Maxwell! As she’s looking at the pictures we see the shadow of a menacing hand float over her  body,but when she looks she sees nothing. When we look we see Fuad, right over there, climbing slowly and clumsily over the wall then limping away slowly. He’s like,right there. A keeper folks.
  One of her friends decides to go shopping at Xmart to see if there are any larger dildos than her own available (there aren’t). Connie makes sure to warn her to about not getting her head bashed in by the killer-at-large,but she gets it mixed up and as she’s walking down the sidewalk, Fuad sneaks up behind her in broad daylight, and bashes her head in with a rock. Her reaction when hit is as hilarious as watching Mal try to pick her lard-ass up and carry her off to the crock-pot! That’s how you injure your back by the way folks, that is what henchmen are for,for goodness sake, to do the heavy lifting! Fuad is a ‘One Wolf’ kinda guy though so, no-go. His really fakey limp doesn’t help.
The cops can’t find Lloyd. Connie invites Maxwell to her mom’s feast of Ishtar, he secretly hopes for the six days of rapine and gluttony but knows better. Dern it.
  Fuad is adding more meat to the pot, wink, and gives Connie’s friend a good whipping with the ol’ cat’o nine tails until acheiving a disappointing orgasm. (applause) Thank you, thank you.
  Maxwell sits at his desk at the office, repeating “Eetar, Ishtar, Eetar, Ishtar…”, he thinks it would make a pretty cool song! After a few he and Chief get hungry so they head over to Fuad’s for some grub, arriving just after Fuad left with the ‘feast’. They go in and find Connie’s friend and it looks like the makeup guy sat there and dripped fake blood over every inch of her body,very cool. Realizing they’re too late,they smell the delicious aroma from Fuad’s cooking and head over to the Freemont residence,stomachs a-growling!
  Fuad has arrived already and with great flourish announces that the banquet is about to begin, and requests that Connie assist him in the kitchen. If all goes well Fuad thinks, he can perform the sacrifice and still get home in time for ‘F-Troop’ reruns! Connie can’t remember to do anything right so by the time Fuad finally gets her in position in comes mom just in time to prevent him from bringing to life the great goddess Ishtar! Damn it I wanted to see if that was going to work! Stupid bitch. The cops arrive, tell everyone that Fuad is the killer, that Connie’s friend was the main course and Mrs Freemont wisely sums it up; “Well I guess we’ll have to have hamburger for dinner!” – extra cheese on mine please!
  Fuad takes off with the cops hot on his tail, through the neighborhood, across the nearby landfill, I bet it smelled nice filming on that location! Fuad manages to reach a trash truck that’s just leaving and jumps in the back,only to be crushed to death by the merciless jaws of the trash compactor. It’s a tragic and sombre moment. Maxwell then explains to Chief in lengthy, unnecessary detail how he brilliantly realized that Eetar and Ishtar sounded similar! The Chief doesn’t look too bright though so perhaps it was necessary to draw it all out for him. The End. (thunderous applause erupts and continues for several minutes) Thank you, thank you.
  Well that wraps it up folks, a true classic that is now 50 years old, hard to believe, and it still holds it’s own – the sign of a true masterpiece. Uncle Grumpyfuk hopes you vermin have enjoyed this one,I endeavored to do Herschell Gordon Lewis’ masterpiece justice, I pray to Crom I have succeeded, so this is yer ol’ pal Uncle Grumpyfuk signin’ off until next time!

Connie Mason: You Read About Her in Playboy!

06
Oct
12

Uncle Grumpyfuk Remembers The Drive-In Massacre

an Uncle Grumpyfuk Review

…(sound of feet running)…huff-puff, huff-puff…whew, I think I lost them…huff-puff, huff-puff … I’ll just -SHIT!… Oh, whew! Hey there folks, huff-puff,you startled me, thought you were..huff, someone else! Yer ol’ pal Uncle Grumpyfuk here, just been doing a little jogging, and sprinting, down the street, through the alleyway, down through the hole in the fence and across that sewer pipe, just trying to put as much distance between myself and that angry crowd from that mosque. Can you believe someone had the audacity to spray paint “Gabba, Durka, Hey! You fucking towelheads!” on the front of the building, and around back the scoundrel rendered an illustration of a group of cute little dripping vaginas holding Mohammed prostrate on the ground while the 220 lb. grandpiglet of Arnold from Green Acres ravaged his bleeding bunghole with it’s monstrous curly-cue weenie! (I myself thought that was an excellent observation of reality by the artist,er, vandal!) Now what kind of racist, blasphemous infidel would… (sound of angry voices close by increase in volume then fade into the distance) …would think of such a creative..I mean offensive act! – Sorry about the whispering but ol’ Grumpy’s going to chill in this refrigerator box for a little while until things cool down- I certainly wouldn’t want to be mistaken for the dashing,I mean dastardly villain responsible for such unconscionable vandalism! No siree, these testicles enjoy remaining attached right here!

 
Hmm, well now seems as good a time as any to review another classic piece of cinematic offal from 1977, “Drive-in Massacre” – one of Uncle Grumpyfuk’s many favorites!

 


Now, for you poor unfortunate youngsters who,when growing up, were deprived of enjoying an endangered American institution, the drive-in theatre, to which I can only say, “Ha,ha! It fucking rocked! Woo!” Drive-in theatres were,and the few that remain are, the fucking bomb! Taking in a double-feature of what are now iconic classics of the silver screen, such as “Bloodfeast” and “2000 Maniacs”, “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and “I Spit on Your Grave”, “Eraserhead” and “Annie Hall”, or on special occasions you’d have film fests which would play until the late hours of the morning. In addition you had the privilege of watching the films in your own. or parents’ vehicle, the bigger the better! Why, you could smuggle in just about anything the imagination could come up with; coolers full of booze, large bags of drugs, at least one member of your party, explosives, movie cameras for filming couples or blackmailing workmates, sigh, what has happened to this poor land?  How many wild smog-outs, popped cherries, murders and other unforgettable memories were made in the parking spaces of the drive-in one can only guess.  However nothing good lasts with the brigades of control-freak do-gooders, fat-fuck cops and military zombies, slimy local politicians and church groups- the true scourge of this land, ready to tear down and destroy what little is left of anything that is truly worth keeping. Let this be a lesson and a message for all of those youths  aspiring to be a member of one of these groups that are responsible for totally fucking up our society and planet with their girly sensitivities and sucker mentalities – Go fucking kills yourselves right now, I mean right now, or join fucking the hari krishnas,they’ll put you in your place. Uncle Grumpyfuk is serious…you think I’m not? …hmm, it smells like spray paint in here…

 

As our film begins with shots and scenes of the drive-in by day, empty, quiet, peaceful, a happy place but the tranquility is broken as the caption appears across the screen, ” On August 10 in a California Drive-in it all began…”, we figure someone got their girlfriend knocked up. As evening closes in the cars full of horny and soon-to-be intoxicated patrons begin to pour in. At the front gate a couple take tickets and the male, a bald guy in a jacket that could only have been worn in the 70s displays a negative vibe towards his young clientelle, go figure!

 
We’re then assaulted by one of the worst movie themes, some warbling hippie sloppily spewing garble about, you know, ‘nothing and everything’, it’s enough to make your teeth hurt, though it would make a good ringtone.  As the spaces fill up we focus on a couple locking lips who actually decide to make a baby there and then, like, intentionally! That might be a first,the intentional part that is.. however before penetration the guy wants to listen to the beginning of the film for some odd reason – maybe listening to Gabby Hayes gives him a hardon or something,I don’t know. As he’s reaching out the window for the speaker which is about 6 ft away, a familiar thing at drive-ins,heh, a hand bearing a sword raises up and flashes down; whoosh, off goes Romeo’s head. His sex-slave inside notices that he suddenly feels 8-10 lbs lighter all of a sudden and wonders if he already shot his load but then sees why. “Not again!!!” she thinks, this being the fourth guy she’s dated that had his head chopped off and she wonders if she’ll EVER have a baby! As she let’s out a shriek of frustration and horror the sword cuts off her scream, literally and she falls partially out of the car, hanging upside down with her life’s blood oozing down her face. Nice touch, I like it!

 

We flash to the police station where a tubby officer reads a novelty newspaper with the headline “Couple slain in Drive-in!” -or something close to that, yer Uncle was momentarily distracted by a sudden methane seapage that went on for several seconds, two belt-holes worth! (Whew, you wouldn’t think Yorkie would be so gamey..burp!) The porcine policeman and his equally stout partner head out to the Drive-in to investigate.

 
When they arrive they talk with the manager Austin Johnson whom the chubby copper’s partner describes as a ‘perfect asshole’, high praise indeed, we’ll certainly have to be the judge of that! Actually he is just that, the actor portraying Austin has the asshole act down perfectly, “So a bunch of horny kids get themselves chopped up by some kook. So what?” … indeed!  He also refers to teenagers as ‘zits with long hair’, I love this guy! Coincidentally he turns out to be the skinhead we saw earlier taking tickets and ragging on the customers- the cool guy, remember? He tells the cops all about what a shitfarm his job and life are, and as they’re about to retreat in revulsion they spot his janitor/security gimp, Gormy. Gormy tells the cops that his friends call him Germy, his friends who were elephants at the carnival that has once stood on the same premises. The fucking elephants called him Germy…oooook. ( circles forefinger around ear) Yeah. We learn ol’ Germy was the geek at the carnival- the brain-stunted individual who knew no shame and would demonstrate it by biting the heads off of snakes, chickens, other small animals, and committing other similar acts of depravity. Ah, the glorious days before PETA… anyway,that was entertainment folks, sigh. He also seconded as the carnival’s sword swallower, heh, no jokes folks, that one is too easy. Now poor Germy is a bit teched in the head after some kind of ‘accident’, we never get a clue on that one dern it! The imagination runs wild.
 

Germy babbles on and on to the cops, unwittingly giving them a few leads and I must say at this point the actor who plays Germy, Douglas Gudbye, I know,I know, anyway he’s really great. He’s got the simpleton act down pat,some really convincing simp acting, bravo. Actually the two actors playing the pigs were also well cast. They looked the part and are very convincing as well, hey, I’m trying to be all critical and shit,right? Uncle Grumpyfuck doesn’t mind giving credit where credit’s due… sometimes! Austin tells the filthy gimp to …whoa*…to get to work, but not before the cops tell Germy it’s cool to be a lousy rat-bastard, “..so squeal on one of the theatre regulars would ya?” Typical.    * (geek + simp = gimp? could that be the origin of the term?!?)

 

   The next night at the crowded theatre we focus on a couple who is arguing in the car – he’s married with kids but he’s knocked up his mistress,so after careful consideration he says “Fuck the wife and kids!” and decides to leave them and go with the mistress. Normally I’d say good choice but she’s knocked up so he’s just jumping from one frying pain into another. Some guys don’t learn,and to think a clothes hanger is all it takes! Little do the couple know however is that in the car next to theirs is a creeper. He squats between the cars and peeps through the window at their sweaty rutting while whacking his porcupine, ye-haw! All of a sudden a sword plunges straight through the couple, through BOTH of them and we think, damn, that’s one strong motherfucker!
         The cops are baffled,naturally, and bring Germy back in for more grilling. He informs them that Austin also used to be a sword/knife man in the carnival and that he enjoyed it as much as he enjoys life in general nowadays. Yeesh. He then squeals and gives the cops the license plate of the creeper so they take off to investigate without giving Germy a single buck or rock of crack for his squealing! What a simp.
  The cops hit the creeper’s pad and put the thumbscrews to him after he acts as nervous and squirrelly as you could want, gotta keep cool in those situation folks! He cracks and admits he’s just a dick jackin’ peeping Tom, you believe it. They find a bloody towel which turns out to be dogs blood and you think damn, homey’s into some fucked up extracurricular activities!
          Back at the drive-in that evening the creeper is back at it, not too bright, and the cops are a-watchin’ from an undercover car, one hilariously in drag! The creeper is watching a couple in the car beside his who are of two different minds; he wants some fucking tail and she wants to watch the movie,gazing lovingly at it like it’s all sweet and romantic when it sounds like “Moonshine Mama”! He heads to the concession stand for some Milk Duds, unable to eat the dud in the car, heh! Too bad, she was totally edible- nice nipple shot there thank you very much!
       The Keystone Law Enforcement Guys get momentarily distracted while the poor guy gets back into the car to find his temperamental girlfriend has lost her head, literally! The cops run over but when they turn to nab the creeper he’s been stabbed too! WTF?!? This killer is slicker than snot! I smell the work of a ninja, Lee Van Cleef must be close.
 BTW, at this point a couple of observations; we’ve seen nothing of the killer that gives us any clue as to their identity and when you think of it there is no lead actor or lead actress, just a bunch of people doing shit, like Seinfeld would have been if it had simply been called ‘Apt. Building Full of Smelly Israelites’.
  Back at the station the piggies are trying to grill Austin but he’s giving them holy hell like a fucking boss! He gives the cops shit about letting 2 murders occur under their very noses, fires Germy on the spot, refuses to close the drive-in, then walks out like Travolta’s homo ass in the beginning of that disco movie he was in… Bee-Gee Bungfest or something like that. Austin is the fucking man my friends! I ever get a license to run that daycare center, I want a manager just like him.
           Next we see poor Germy walking around in friggin’ La-la Land, imagining the bright lights, the happy people, and the other long-gone sights,sounds and smells of the carnival. I mean bro is trippin’ big time! It would have been funny if they’d included a shot of him weaving around the empty parking lot, looking at crap that wasn’t there, running into the speaker poles, ha! You almost feel sorry for the simp…ha,ha,ha,yeah right.
 The cops receive a call that some goofy LARPer has gone amok with his Topaz Sword of Ice, or K-mart machete, depending on your point of view, and is holding a maiden hostage. They head out, assured that this is the culprit…and we see where this is going! Heh-heh-heh! At the warehouse Larry the Cable Guy has had one crappyass American beer too many and tells his cute hostage how he’s going to ‘cut all the meanness out of her’, what a considerate guy! Seriously this guy is deeper into La-la Land that Germy! The girl gets free and hides,the cops arrive and quickly blow his ass away, as if the outcome is ever any different,but then the girl drops the bomb on them – this is her father that just escaped from the nuthouse, wrong guy! Whoopsie-daisy! Well what’s one less fruitcake in California,right? Right.
           They then head back to the drive-in and arrive just in time to see,on the screen, the gigantic silhouette of Austin getting stabbed and then one little hack, two little hacks and three,off goes the head, very creative and such an easy effect! The hysterical ticket girl tells them Austin and Germy are inside,they burst in to see the mangled body of Austin which causes them all to laugh and laugh and laugh! So long asshole! They kick in the door of the other room only to find Germy has been hacked up as well,with no one else in the building, no other way out and… that’s it! The end! No murderer or anything, just a caption telling of other similar instances of drive-in murders across the country and then the manager’s voice comes over the loudspeaker and tells that there’s a murderer in the theatre now! Run!!! …yeah…. Fuck I love this film, if you don’t you’re more retarded than Germy.
 Well things have been quiet for a good while now so Uncle Grumpyfuk is going to chance heading back to the hacienda. I’ve got the trusty brass knucks and bear mace just in case I run into trouble so we’ll see you next time folks, take care!
20
Apr
12

Uncle Grumpyfuk Remembers: The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies

written by Uncle Grumpyfuk

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!!!

-Uncle Grumpyfuk

10
Jan
12

The Devil Inside: The Devil’s in the Dullness

a Primal Root written review

Man, The Blair Witch Project feels like it was ages ago…Well, here we are with another quickie cash in on the current super cheap “found footage” trend. This time instead of a ghost, alien or witch we’re dealing with the ever freaky prospect of exorcisms. A found footage concept that’s been done before recently and a bit better in 2010’s  “The Last Exorcism”.  Hey, at least that film managed to be even remotely entertaining for more than 5 minutes of it’s run time…

The Devil Inside is the story of a young woman looking to close a chapter in her life that’s plagued her since she was a child. Her mother’s condition which led her to slay three clergy members during her own exorcism. Mom was shipped off to Italy in order undergo treatment for her mental illness but her daughter Isabella isn’t so quick to rule out demonic possession.  This is the mock-doc of Isabella’s trip to Italy to visit her mother where she encounters real life exorcists who take her out on dates to watch them work their brand of incompetence on young ladies who can pop ‘n’ lock like none other! This is the true story of when demons stop being polite and start getting real…

"True Sto-RAAAAY!" obscure?

Long gone are the days of the possessed spewing bile into preachers faces, no, nowadays they are more likely to spray you copious amounts of vagina blood like fruit punch squeezed forth from the little straw pocking out of the top of a Hi-C juice box.  And that kind of shit is fun to watch. It’s freaky, it’s unnatural, and it is pretty gross (unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case, this flick might get ya hot under the collar.) and it works. The strongest element of this film are these scenes of demonic possession and the battle to rid these folks of their hellish ailments. And these scenes are pretty captivating, the strongest of which, involves a priest performing a baptism on an infant.

The sad fact is, none of these scenes really mean much, because the filmmakers forgot the create interesting characters the audience could empathize with. Fernanda Andrade as Isabella seems completely void of emotion for the duration of the picture. During these intense, violent and over the top exorcism sequences (one of which involves her own mother) the camera every so often pans to Isabella for a reaction shot. And as the blood spews forth from splayed vaginas and priests that are as physically imposing as a five year old get tossed across rooms and into walls, Isabella’s typical reaction is utter boredom. This reaction pretty much sums up my reaction to the other 97% of The Devil Inside.

Dramatic recreation of the look on my face when "The Devil Inside" ended.

And in so lies the films ultimate weakness: dullness. There’s just nothing happening foe the majority of the film. We get some priests debating the whether exorcism is real or just mental illness (guess which debate wins out in the end!), people bickering, and montages of Isabella walking around Italy looking bored and uninterested.  Now, I can;t be sure where the fault should really lie for such a boring film. I mean, this is supposed to be a documentary film gone wrong, correct? Depressingly enough, the guy behind the camera never comes off as a competent filmmaker to begin with. So do we blame the fictional documentary filmmaker? IS he supposed to suck at his profession? Or is it the actual filmmakers themselves who can’t put together a thoughtful, exciting, engaging film on the subject of mental illness, family ties, faith and possession? Why waste such a potentially good story on the same tired formula that Paranormal Activity has exploited for three movies?

Because people eat this shit up for some reason. 1. Have nothing interesting happen for 45 minutes of screen time. 2. Insert a loud dog barked 3. Watch everyone jump and scream in shock as your film takes the bold step of having something actually happen4. Profit. This is fucking LAZY film making, people. This is the kind of thing that gives the horror genre such a bad name. And this is the kind of vacuous, meaningless, fast food offerings the mainstream horror audience is fed and they slurp up as if it’s filet mignon.  Mainstreamers, you have steadily acquired a taste for Grade-A dookie. Yes, you are being served heaping spoonfuls of shit.  There’s nothing interesting here. Nothing thoughtful or truly horrifying nor is there anything campy or fun about The Devil Inside. It simply exists with just about nothing to offer.

Despite some relatively strong performances from supporting players Simon Quarterman and Evan Helmuth as two young renegade exorcists who aid Isabella in her quest and Suzan Crowley as Isabella’s Mother,  Maria Rossi, who pretty much steals the show with every scene in which she appears. She, alone, nearly makes the film worth it. If only we had more time with her.  The film also kicks it into high gear towards the end of it’s running time where it even hints at becoming interesting.  Really. the final ten or fifteen minutes promise of some great rewards only for the movie to pull the rug out from under us and leave us with nothing but frustration and 90 minutes of out lives wasted.

I’m sure they are saving all that for the sequel, which is at this point certain, after this honking log of shit somehow managed to ingest 36 million dollars of hard earned dollars from the accounts of countless movie goers this past weekend despite terrible notices and an ad campaign that looked more like a warning. I guess it proves my old theory that pure evil always works when it’s far more subtle. Why drive the audience completely fucking insane with something truly horrific and mind altering when you can simply bore them to the point of  crying in uncontrollable sobs of pain and suffering for 10 bucks a head?

That, my friends, is the true face of The Devil…

Stay Trashy!

-Root

20
Apr
11

uncle grumpy fuck remembers: “Manos”: The Hands of Fate (part two of two)

an Uncle Grumpy Fuck recollection…

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.

17
Mar
11

Uncle Grumpy Fuck Remembers: “Manos”: The Hands of Fate (Part One of Two)

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…

UNCLE GRUMPY FUCK’S CONCLUSION COMING SOON!




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