Gorillanauts….ARE GO!

Hey kids, do you even know who Joi Lansing is?


Watch this:

Do any of the following references in this review of I KNOW WHO KILLED ME make any sense to you?

“The whole plot reminded me of something DePalma might’ve tried back in the eighties or even during his inexplicable RAISING CAIN. I suppose the twin gimmick was meant to have a big shocking twist feel but you never really buy into it. LL never does anything shocking or sexy, not enough to even get the “I just wanna see her naked” crowd. There’s something approaching a giallo feel in the killer’s house where LL comes across a creepy cellar of hanging prosthetic limbs but Sivertson doesn’t have the chops to make it special. It really needed to be weirder, maybe in the style of an early seventies giallo, where the ludicrous plot gimmick would just be something you rolled with because the visuals and music were so trippy and cool. But Sivertson is no Argento. It’s also not “bad” enough like a SHOWGIRLS to interest the camp crowd. Personally, I would’ve like to see a deranged chimp in there somewhere. It’s not really LL’s fault, she does what she can I suppose. It’s just not enough of anything. Just go watch DRESSED TO KILL instead. At least it has Michael Caine in drag.”
-Bwana Beast

No…but you’re curious?

Then check out my new favorite movie / entertainment website: Gorillanaut!

Home of the Important Space Gorilla, Gorillanaut.com

Keep Away Mean Fink

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved to read. My parents claim that I used to escape from my crib and gather up all my books around me even before I had the ability to read them. I still have fond memories of my Mom and my Auntie Linda reading all my favorite children’s books to me over and over again. They did it right …no half assed story time…different voices for the characters, intense inflection, staying on the page long enough so my young eyes could soak up all the illustrations…you know, all that jazz that kids love.

Well, one of my all time favorite kid’s books still sits on my office bookshelf. CRABAPPLE NIGHT (by Jan Wahl, illustrated by Steven Kellogg) has a place of honor next to the more adult fare like, EDUCATION OF A FELON (by Edward Bunker), COSMIC RETRIBUTION: THE INFERNAL ART OF JOE COLEMAN, and THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP (by John Irving).

I was obsessed with the gritty pen and ink illustrations and the dark themes contained in this magical tome…uh, a 28 page book is pretty long for a little guy…oh, and the names of the characters are priceless…anyway…on to the book.

That’s Pickle Puss, mean ol’ Louella Fink’s cat.

The story is fairly simple:
The neighborhood kids (Emmy, Philomena, and Reginald) all hate “mean, grouchy, crabby Louella Fink.” She lives in a creepy house with her mean cat…alone.

She’s alone because her husband went missing one night. The kids have some ideas about the disappearance of Mr. Fink…and they all involve grisly murder…committed by none other than, Louella!

One sunny morning, a neighborhood Scotch terrier (Ambrose) was found poisoned to death. The kids are sure horrible Mrs. Fink was the murderer, so they decide to get revenge. They put a dead rat in her mailbox, soap skulls on her windows, and Reginald even goes so far as to dress up as the ghost of the late Scotch terrier and terrorize the old lady!

Of course, the old Fink calls the sheriff, Clem “Baboon” McWhirter and the Reverend, Percival Goldenrod, to keep those hooligan kids out of her yard. Clem sets up a stakeout, but to no avail…the kids pull off another midnight raid while “Baboon” is catnapping in his squad car. Louella’s ready with her shotgun this time and all the commotion leads to a disorientated sheriff engaging in a shootout with the frightened old woman.

This next picture was the picture for me in this book.

Look at the hole in his freakin’ arm…and the needle…and the look on “Baboon’s” face…I couldn’t look away.

After all the shooting, things pretty much go back to normal…the kids hate The Fink and The Fink hates the kids. Some more stuff happens, but I’m not going to ruin the story for you….but there’s this horrific image:

What in the Sam Hill could that be? A monster? A ghost? The real murderer of Mr. Fink and Ambrose?!

I won’t tell…but if you want to spend the night some time, maybe I’ll read CRABAPPLE NIGHT to you before we go to bed.

Two For Tuesdays

This Tuesday, I present to you, Bobbie Gentry.
Everyone loves songs about hookers…don’t they?

Boy dancers to the stage…boy dancers…

Pondering the “tit flash.”

Yesterday, The Wife and I heard a commercial for some bar on 6th Street on the radio…it was all, “BABES, BOURBON, AND BEADS! COME ON DOWN TO THE DIZZY GRIZZLY (not real name of bar) AND GET FUCKED UP WITH YOUR TITS OUT IN FRONT OF A BUNCH OF DATE-RAPEY FRAT GUYS! OOOHHH YEAH!”

Okay, I’m exaggerating a little bit…but it did get me thinking about the art of tit flashing. Being a man, I can only appreciate the sudden, unexpected appearance of a bared breast in public. I have no idea what it must be like to feel the adrenaline rush of smashing down the walls of this patriarchal society by simply unleashing one’s breasts in a crowded place. Sometimes, just a nipple and areola quickly slipped out the side of a woman’s collar is enough to make them feel like Maverick heading down that highway to the danger zone…or so I can imagine.

Now I’m not talking about stripping, Mardi Gras, or some Girls Gone Wild breast bearing…something just doesn’t seem equal there. There’s some sort of payment involved: money, beads, finally getting back at your father…no, the best breast exposure is the spontaneous, excitement fueled kind. Something like only a Van Halen concert or a Blue Angels air show could induce in a woman. The overwhelming desire to “show the whole goddamned world my tits“, no matter what size, shape, or color! It’s not all, “Look at me, look at me”…It’s bigger than that. It’s a real Ben Franklin kind of move…it’s a call to action, a declaration of freedom, a statement of power!

That being said, I think there are some dangers involved in tit flashing a woman must take into consideration: Men. Now don’t get all defensive guys…we all know there’s at least 1 out of 5 guys in a crowd who’s gonna’ piss all over a woman’s tit flash by doing the unspeakable…..the unsolicited tit grab!


Seriously, can you Cromags just keep your filthy paws away for the 10 to 15 seconds it takes a woman to physically express and expose her Pointer Sisters? A woman’s bare breasts are not public Paw Patties for you to sully up on a Saturday night. That’s why every Electra Woman needs a Dyna Girl…a female sidekick to help keep the animals at bay. You might think having a man around to run interference during your liberating expression of toplessness is a good idea, but that usually leads to fighting or worse…the inhibition factor. Sure, men have strong shoulders that you can sit on while celebrating your freedom, but usually a boyfriend or husband (or even a brother) is more of an outer impediment to free activity, expression, or functioning of tit flashing. Ladies, travel in pairs or in packs with other ladies, because, only another woman can fully understand why you need to take your tits out (ever so briefly) and how to keep meddlesome grabby guys away from your Betty Boops with a minimum of fisticuffs.

One last thing…Men, looking is okay…in fact, that’s exactly what you are supposed to do. Remember what you parents used to say, “Look with your eyes, not with your hands.” These women are caught up in a dissociative fugue of sorts…do not break their concentration by reaching out for them. Cheering, hooting, and clapping are a definite must…it’s your way of being the woman’s Iceman, a good natured rival that pushes her to exceed her abilities as a regular gal and to achieve the courage and confidence only possessed by the inner-Maverick hidden beneath her shirt.

There you go…whether you agree or disagree is fine with me…but if you are a man or a woman who has never felt the urge to bear her God given Bra Buddies in an act of feminist expression, you might want to wait to cast that stone. Who knows, one night at a Skynyrd concert or during the Superbowl, maybe, just maybe, the spirit of Ben Franklin, Betsy Ross, or even Kenny Loggins will make you do the most liberating thing you have ever done….The Tit Flash.

Porky, Roger, and Max join the record club.

Another payday, another round of Lp buying. Man, I just can’t stop buying soundtracks these days…

“The Angel Beach boys are back, and crazier than ever. With the basketball championship around the corner, the boys are ready and willing, until one day Brian learns their gym coach owes money to their old enemy Porky Wallace. Fearing the old strip club is back in business, the team hurries out where Meat encounters a beautiful (ugly faced) girl who turns out to be Porky’s daughter. Trying to help their couch the guys make a deal with Porky over the basketball championship. But when Porky’s learns of his daughter’s crush on Meat, he flips out and kidnaps Meat for an all true American Wedding. It’s up to his friends to save him and ruin Porky for good.” Written by Wallace Entertainment

Oh, James….and Max?!

I know Sean Connery is generally considered to be the coolest Bond, but I’m a Roger Moore man all the way. In addition to being Bond, James Bond, he was also Seymour Goldfarb Jr. aka Roger Moore:

And before Mel was known for shouting about freedom and The Jews while wearing a dress, he had a bad ass salt and pepper mullet and was the one man to leave The Thunderdome!

In related “news”, I was checking my Tag Surfer function and came across this blog, which led me to this awesome flickr page!

Sleeveface also has a little corner in WordPress. Cool, huh?

There’s a sucker born every minute.

**I move away from the mic to breathe in

That’s right, I couldn’t resist. The interweb made me do it. I spent 2 whole dollars on Cherry Chocolate Diet Dr Pepper. And, I hate Dr. Pepper. I’m not even in to soda…too sweet for me, but Cherry Chocolate Rain has been stuck in my head for days!

So I guess you’re wondering, “How’s it taste?”

Er, agh, bleh.

The Wife summed up CCDDP’s unique flavor profile as, “A diet scratch and sniff sticker.”

That’s about right.

Mr. Awesome

You guys ever hear of Mr. Awesome? No, not me, silly. Roy Shildt. You can currently see him in KING OF KONG and….uh, I don’t know where else. I’ll let him do the talking:

Wow, uh, what’s weirder, the sperm count thing or the Rich and Famous Fellatio Hall of Fame? The Wife and I had forgotten all about seeing Mr. Awesome on Disinfo Tv until he popped up in KoK….of course I had to know more.

There is a great interview with him here.

Here’s the cover to his “book”:

And here’s a video of Whitney Wonders…she’s the busty model on the cover with Mr. Awesome.

She sure seems like a nice lady.

Have an Awesome day everyone!