Category Archives: Bad Erotic Thriller

Report: Florida Teeming with Sleazy Bachelors Harassing Wholesome Housewives, Students

Lesbians Pool Celebrities Naked Sex

Wild Things (1998)       Directed by John McNaughton

Body Heat Movie Poster with Kathleen Turner Standing over William Hurt smoking

Body Heat (1981) Directed by Lawrence Kasdan

FLORIDA –  Miami police grapple with two painfully obvious crime cases labeled by local media outlets as Body Heat (1981) and Wild Things (1998). According to police records, these two cases bring Florida’s neo-noir problem front and center.

A perpetually wet personal injury lawyer, Ned Racine (William Hurt), and a high school counselor that drives a Jeep Wrangler, Sam Lombardo (Matt Dillon), went virtually undetected as slimeballs despite their disinclination toward wearing shirts and inability to speak to women in respectable tones.

Attorney Ned Racine reportedly told mild-mannered housewife Matty Walker (Kathleen Turner) that she “shouldn’t wear that body” and followed her to her marital home in Pine Haven on multiple occasions under the guise of “seeing her wind chimes” which was an obvious cover for stalking and possible murder.  Police refer to the well-known studies that show males under the age of 60 lack the capacity to identify wind chimes, lumping them all in together with “old lady stuff” like scented candles and birdhouses.

In the second case, high school counselor Sam Lombardo was seen driving  his low-tech meets low-brow Jeep Wrangler with student Kelly Van Ryan (Denise Richards) inside, ostensibly taking her home from high school. Especially damning reports label Lombardo as “blasting Third Eye Blind and Smash Mouth.” These offensive reports have not yet been corroborated.

Matt Dillon looks like a douche as he drops Denise Richards off at home in Wild Things

I want something else, to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby, baby.

Detective Ray Duquette (Kevin Bacon) went on record to note that Van Ryan was so thankful for Lombardo’s kindness with the transport home that she went so far as to wash the Wrangler for Lombardo – without payment – in the course of her charity work for her cheerleading duties as a Blue Bay Buccaneer. Van Ryan gave Lombardo the “Full Service Plus” wash and even when, at the end, she found herself with no towels to dry off the vehicle, valiantly offered up her already soaking t-shirt and shorts. Sadly, she was later to have this generosity repaid with murder.

Matty Walker’s character has also been roundly lauded, primarily by neighbors in the town of Pine Haven for keeping a “lovely garden with a veritable orchestra of windchimes” as well as donating money on a weekly basis to the Pine Haven Tavern. All regulars at the Pine Haven Tavern will mourn the loss of Mrs. Walker’s presence, just handing out dollar bill after dollar bill once she finished her bourbons. “We really liked Miz Walker,” one swarthy bar patron offers, “she was somethin’ to look at, what with those all-white dresses that went total, like, see-through after an hour in this hot-ass dump. I didn’t even mind that some batshit weird atonal saxophone seemed to follow her around wherever she went.”

According to police investigations, both Lombardo and Racine live just above the poverty line and seem to funnel all of their discretionary income into douchey cars and high-waisted pants. Meanwhile, Walker and Van Ryan enjoyed comfortable upper-class lifestyles and loving relationships with the families that provided them their closets full of white linen garb and gun lockers.

Detective Duquette considers these open-and-shut cases, with both Lombardo and Racine as obvious stalkers that were in no way encouraged by the beautiful yet demure (in that femme fatale way) Walker and Van Ryan. Lombardo is facing murder charges while Racine is looking at arson. Both cases are stalled, however, at the insistent petitioning of  prosecutor Peter Lowenstein (Ted Danson) for the Racine case and high school student Suzie Toller (Neve Campbell) for Lombardo’s.

“Both Lowenstein and Toller have made exceedingly bad style choices,” Duquette opines, “and that is a sure mark of an untrustworthy source. Lowenstein is tooling around town in Junior Soprano glasses and floods. Toller won’t let go of the Craft multi-layered beaded necklace trend. Don’t even get me started on her mushroom haircut.”

Prosecutor Ted Danson reads book on couch as Peter Lowenstein in Body Heat
Obvious disreputable source.

Neve Campbell as vampy slut in Wild Things

                                                                                   And again.


This reporter was granted access to interview Lombardo and Racine while in their holding cells, the cells sans air-conditioning, because it wouldn’t be a Florida noir if everyone wasn’t sweating their balls off in every scene.

REPORTER: Hello gentlemen. I’ve come to discuss with you some of the more damning aspects of your cases as explained to me by HPI, the Hillbilly Police Investigators.

SAM LOMBARDO: I’m innocent! Goddamit.

REP: Fine, Mr. Lombardo, we’ll address your situation first. I see here that you secured world-famous comedian Bill Murray as your lawyer.

SM: Yes, that’s right.

REP: Can you tell me why you chose him?

SM: Based on his track record as a weatherman, a Ghostbuster, several mentally unhinged characters, his stint in the army, and then a few more repeats of the weatherman job, he seemed like the most seasoned attorney available. Plus, he had great style, what with his – seersucker suits, white fedoras, and pimp cane – which of course would heavily sway Detective Duquette’s professional opinion of the case since Murray comes across basically as a disabled pimp.

Bill Murray as Matt Dillon's lawyer in Wild Things, dressed in white pimp outfit

“You’ll watch me in anything, won’t you?”

REP: Fair enough. Now Mr. Racine, I see here that besides representing serious criminals in court you also fraternize with them in your free time? Teddy Lewis (Mickey Rourke), for example. He is a known arsonist that you kept out of lockup. Interestingly, Ms. Walker reported that her boathouse exploded after she had made it clear she no longer wanted any relations with you.

NED RACINE: The only reason – and I told Duquette this – that I hang out with Teddy is for his mind-bending song and dance performances. He is a struggling artist and has to hold all performances in his garage/apartment/bomb shelter. That is why Peter saw me exiting the premises looking especially soaking wet and sweaty the other day. Not because I had just procured a bomb and was nervous about it but because I had been joyfully grooving with Teddy as he exuberantly bopped around the shop.

REP: I see. And you both – you and Lombardo –maintain that the women in these cases – Walker and Van Ryan – were NOT perfect snowy white angels of virtue?

[Note: When visiting Walker and Van Ryan at their palatial estates this reporter was simply bowled over by the gracious manners and gleaming white teeth and clothing of these women. They were perfect hostesses at the pool parties, steak dinners, and boat rides we enjoyed at their husband’s and father’s expense. In fact, when I had had a little too much to drink, they were both equally kind enough to put me in a car and send me home. Whoops. Looks like I’m still missing my driver’s license and social security card. I’ll have Duquette get on that after the interview. But I digress.]

…and that is how, my friend, the femme fatale always gets her man. Me, in this case.

REP: Yes, yes, [clears throat, shuffles papers]. Mr. Lombardo, I see here that you enjoy driving an air boat in your free time. An air boat? Really? You should have taken a spin in Ms. Van Ryan’s yacht! Woo-baby!  And Ms. Walker really lets it out when we race down the coast in her red Ferrari.

[Both incarcerated men glare and squint contemplatively.]

REP: You know what? I just remembered. I forgot an appointment I need to be at. [Shuffles through messenger bag, finds sunblock, lovingly pats it, finds some Ferrari keys and jingles them. Reporter returns attention to incarcerated men.] “Gentlemen. It isn’t my place to pass any judgment but I have to say, it’s not looking good for you fellows.

NR: Sometimes the shit comes down so heavy I feel like I should wear a hat.

As both cases progressed, Detective Duquette dug up more damning evidence. Both Racine and Lombardo had been seen moodily smoking cigarettes while looking out windows into neon moonlight. The haunting sound of saxophones followed whenever they drove. Both had that squinty way of looking at you and wryly smiling. It was not very long before they were both locked up in the big house for their neo-noir crimes.


 Reporter stands by the window. His eyes are strangely dreamy and he is uncharacteristically drinking scotch far earlier than 5 pm. He watches Matty Walker breeze into the room.


Morning, Angel.

There’s a copy of the Sun-Sentinel on his desk. Walker points to it, grins.



Some men, once they get a whiff of it, they trail you like a hound.


(in a queer, tight voice)

Did you lead me astray, Matty? Was I wrong?


Your Matty’s been kicked around her whole life. And from now on, I’m kicking back.


(intense worry creeping into his face)

What the fuck does that mean? I printed those articles on the basis of your story. Are you telling me that you misrepresented the story?


I don’t go to church. Kneeling bags my nylons.


I’m not asking you to swear on the Bible. Just tell me – did you falsify your story? Because, Jesus Matty, this article really swayed public favor. It was a miracle – right? – that the jury wasn’t moved to a new county, or state, even!


The lie was in the way I said it, not at all in what I said. It’s my own fault if you can’t believe me now.


WTF! Stop talking in riddles and just come clean on your story! Matty, we essentially put two men away on murder charges for a looong time, honey. Wait, what? Where is that saxophone music coming from?


Just come meet me later at my new and improved boathouse set waaay far back from the road. I’ll leave you the key to our new life there. We can go away together, I just need to settle up a few matters first with Racine’s will.

 OVER SCENE the SOUND of the corridor door knob rattling. Walker sashays to the frosted window, squints through a crack in the door. The Reporter stands, leaden-faced, entranced by his writing hand.


(in a flat voice)

Ted Danson is here. He brought Demetri Martin with him.


I’m an unlicensed private detective ma’am.


Matty, get my gun.

Jason Schwartzman and Ted Danson in suits in Bored to Death

We are your new noir.

– Written by Kelli



Filed under "Thriller", Awesome Action, Bad Erotic Thriller, Breaking News, Loose Cannon Cop

Hello, my name is Lindsay and I am a serious actress

I Know Who Killed Me (2007)

Welcome to my home page. This page was made so that my legions of fans can keep updated on my many acting gigs so that they won’t miss one minute of my thespian talents.  But not this very moment because I am in rehab for the 5th time.

About Me:

My Nickname:
The Next Judi Dench

My Starsign:
Gemini: Mistress of multiple personalities (2).


Lindsay Lohan No Panties Car

My Hobbies:
Powdering my nose. Get it? But no, really, I like to go dancing in Los Angeles sans panties like all the other classy actresses.  That’s what guys like, right?  Because I date women, so I wouldn’t know.  I mean, yeah, I posed nude in Playboy and that wet-nude thing that Maxim does and starred in that abortion “I Know Who Killed Me” (that WON 8 Razzie awards BTW) which only netted an audience of dudes that wanted to watch me strip.  LOL. But the trick was on them because I didn’t’ actually get naked and only danced a slow-motion striptease because I couldn’t handle dancing to Whitesnake at 33 rpm.

Lindsay Lohan Samantha Ronson Airport Cute

If I had another chance at life I would still do all those things and instead of snorting all my money up my nose I would use it to buy Samantha Ronson a truckload of fedora hats and leather jackets so she would love me forever.

My Favorite color:
I like a natural red.

Character Type:

Lindsay Lohan Marilyn Monroe Yellow Flowers

Lindsay Lohan Marilyn Monroe Yellow Flowers

See! The similarities are endless! 

While most directors describe me as  ‘dumb, hot, and willing to do anything,’ I see myself more as a an elusive Marilyn Monroe type. She was a tortured soul, a beautiful girl from the country who made it big in Hollywood and had a whirlwind career and life.  Just like how I was groomed from a young age to whore myself out for money and have spent the majority of my late teens and early twenties sitting in therapy circles.  Also, I dressed as her in a photo shoot so that proves our similarity.  I talk about dying young like her too, but most everybody thinks that if I haven’t even achieved that yet, then I never will.  They’re probably right. 

Lindsay Lohan Knife Drunk Photo

Here is a pic of me acting classy, just like Marilyn.  I’m using the knife as a phallic substitute.  That’s a special sexy trick that one can only master after drinking 6 Red Bull and Vodkas and spilling most of your blow down your shirt.  This was  a great night, I met a lot of new friends and made lots of promises to show up to 5 am call times for film shoots because that is how real actresses make a living.

Kim Kardashian Lindsay Lohan Fashion
This is me and a fellow thespian, Kim, she is great at portraying characters who stare vacuously at their phone and talk about eating all the time.

Lindsay Lohan Anorexic Skinny Photo

I thought about eating once but then I changed my mind. That’s Kim’s department. Besides, eating takes time away from acting exercises like curling my hair just-so and getting arrested. 

 In that photo of Kim and me we had just finished attending a really elite Actor’s party, maybe the SAG or something.  I don’t really remember, I only got a good look at the bathrooms.  They were nice.  I’ve seen better. 

Lindsay Lohan Falling Drunk Photo

 This is my favorite photo of myself acting. I like to pretend to drink excessively and then fall in the dirt off of my towering heels.  I think it shows me being both approachable and fashionable.  If I wasn’t such a great actress, one might think I am a no-talent twat who masquerades as an actress and who is prime fodder for the next  “Housewives of Encino Valley”.  But that would never happen because I am a serious actress.

Written by Kelli

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Filed under "Thriller", Bad Erotic Thriller, Crazy Person, Washed-up actors

Stay Away from My Window – A Review of Private Lessons

Private Lessons Movie Poster

Great tagline! Goes well with the crappy pre-Photoshop collage work.

Private Lessons (1981)

Director: Alan Myerson

Writer: Dan Greenburg

First I’d like to set aside, for the moment, the question of whether Private Lessons depicts 1) amusing Euro-style bedroom farce or 2) child rape. People still argue this dichotomy every day in the wilds of the Internet, and the movie was released 30 years ago. Harmless kitsch or kiddie porn? I can’t pretend to settle this to everyone’s satisfaction, but read on and we’ll see what we can do.

So little happens that the plot is easy to summarize. Young Phillip Fillmore (played by young Eric Brown) is left alone with the domestic staff when his father goes off on a business trip.  Little does he know that chauffeur Lester Lewis (a bewigged Johnny Fever) has hatched a plot with the housekeeper Nicole Mallow (Sylvia Kristel of Emmanuelle fame) in which she will seduce the 15-year-old Philly, fake her own death, and then extort money out of the kid.[1]

Sylvia Kristel as emmanuelle

"Well, you had a strange journey from Milan to Minsk"

Strangely, this is exactly what happens.  Philly is receptive enough – the first 20 minutes are dedicated to depicting Brown’s character as a conventionally sex-crazed adolescent bumbler, spying on Nicole. The seduction escalates from strip tease, to a shared bathtub, to dating, to sex and Nicole’s coronary expiration.  At first, Philly is complicit in hiding the death/sex-murder, but then Nicole (after a “change of heart” ha ha) reveals herself and the plot and cooperates with the boy to “turn the tables” on the conniving chauffeur. Then, more sex, if you can believe it.

This film has a problem common to most every movie where the protagonist is a child: all of the adult characters function as slightly taller children.  There is not a line of adult dialogue to be heard, and even the villain reasons and performs like a kid with a fake driver’s license. The viewer finds himself aching for a mature voice, someone to provide a little perspective. “Sex is pretty complicated stuff, and you might not know exactly what you’re feeling.” “This woman is exploiting you for criminal gain or because she is emotionally disturbed.” “Impersonating a police officer is a federal crime, with real consequences.” “If you truly love this woman, you won’t hide her body in a meat freezer.” My money was on the gardener, but he has like one line. Even Ed Begley as the boys’ tennis instructor seems, what, retarded?

And the sex scenes, ho boy.  Eric Brown was 16 years old when they were shot – in Mexico, where the age of consent was low enough.  He looks 4 years younger like a pencil with too large an eraser. In bed, the effect is uncanny – she’s just so much larger, and Brown is so obviously a child. I knew guys in high school who were 6 feet tall and had credible mustaches at 16, but Brown is asexual and tiny. For me, this is the skin-crawling confirmation that I am witnessing some kind of assault: the sight of the this fully grown, nude woman[2] towering over a skinny, motherless nit.

And I mean literally without a moms. When they argue that “I totally would have loved for this to happen to me,” Lessons boosters like to pass over the fact that Philly’s mother is dead. That’s right, in a house devoid of feminine guidance, the kid is screwing his surrogate mother.

I read a vague Internet rumor that Private Lessons was initially set to be some kind of thriller/horror movie, but early production decisions canted it firmly into the screwball sex comedy genre. That’s a real shame if you ask me, because even with the current cast, Lessons is about two degrees away from being an early 80s “The Turn of the Screw” (1898). What Henry James got right and Dan Greenburg gets wrong are the psychological consequences for the older woman when her relationship with a child becomes erotically charged. Ask yourself, just for a second: What is the internal landscape of an adult woman who fucks a 15-year-old boy who looks 12? Initially, Nicole Mallow’s actions and emotions are counterfeit, but the audience is asked to believe that she willingly returns to a sexual relationship with the boy after the plot has been exposed and the threat of extortion is past?

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Filed under Bad Erotic Thriller, Bad Movies, Bad Romantic Comedy, Childhood Memories, Crazy Person, Guest Review: Joshua, Instructional

The Jerry Springer Show featuring the Stars from the Film Basket Case!

Basket Case Title

You have never been so afraid of your hamper. Not even in high school.

Basket Case is a “dark comedy” (read: we blatantly use stereotypes, lo-fi effects and horrible dialogue) about a pair of separated Siamese Twins exacting revenge on the doctors who were harangued into separating them by their “evil” father. The boys were happy living shuttered away in upstate New York until dad decided he wanted one functional son rather than a mutant twosome. Their visit to the big city goes pretty much how many first-timers’ experiences go: a shitty hotel room, a little bit of sex, and some stop-action fighting. Enjoy – Kelli

Crowd: Jer-ry! Jer-ry! Jer-ry!

Jerry: Today’s guests are 2 brothers previously joined at the hip who now just want to kill each other. I’d like to welcome Duane to the show.

(Duane enters from backstage)

Jerry: Hello, Duane.

Basket Case Duane

When Jell-o Shots Go Awry

Duane: Hi, Jerry.

Jerry: (reading from card) So, Duane, you’re here to tell your brother something. What is it?

Duane: Well, Jerry, my brother Belial and I have always been close. We do everything together. We’re really inseparable. But once we moved to the city to massacre the squadron of doctors who separated us it has been nothing but fighting.

Jerry: What do you mean, the doctors who separated you? I thought you said you two did everything together?

Duane: Oh, we do, Jerry. It’s just that until we were 11-years old Belial was this enormous growth that protruded out of the right side of my torso. He looks kind of like one of those claymation California Raisins. Anyway, he has full use of his senses but he can only speak in garbled screams. The doctors thought it best to cut us apart so that I could live a normal life.

Jerry: I see.

Duane: But we didn’t want to be separated. So now, almost 10 years later, we’ve decided to go on a killing rampage and exact revenge on the doctors who tried to remedy our freakish existence. But everything is just falling apart.

Jerry: Why is that?

Duane: In the course of tracking down and violently murdering these 3 doctors, I’ve made friends with some nice ladyfolk and Belial keeps getting in the way, trying to take them for his own!

Crowd: Ooooohhhh!

Duane: I know! I know! Is that selfish or what? I carry him around in a very secure padlocked wicker basket day-in and day-out and feed him bagfuls of cheap burgers and raw hotdogs to satiate his bloodlust. The least he could do is let me get a little tail.

Jerry: So what do you want to tell him today?

Duane: I want to tell him that unless he gives me some alone time with the ladies, we’re going our separate ways. I can not die a virgin.

Jerry: Well, you’re going to get your chance. Here’s Belial!

Basket Case Belial

If you tell your kids that this is what boogers look like up close, they'll never pick their noses again.

(Belial drags himself onstage and stiltedly slides up to Duane)

Belial: Gaaaaarghhh!

(Belial pulls the chair out from underneath Duane. Duane falls backwards. Duane lunges at Belial but Steve the security guard pulls them apart before things can go any further.)

Belial: Gaaaarrggh!

Jerry: Can we get that “separated Siamese twin translator” in here please?

(Woman in sexy nurse uniform sashays onstage and takes a seat. Crowd wolf whistles and howls. Belial and translator confer.)

Translator: Belial is afraid that if Duane gets a girlfriend he will desert him.

Jerry: Excuse me, we have a comment from the audience.

Man in audience: I think that this fear of desertion relates directly to when Duane and Belial were 11 and Duane took most of Belial’s motor capabilities with him after the surgery, lessening his enjoyment of life. (this man who looks eerily similar to a walrus smiles at the camera) You don’t need to send out a press release to think for yourself.

Dr. Phil Walrus Similar

He's so happy because he is run by solar power.

Jerry: (squinting) Is that Dr. Phil?

(Man in audience winks and points at camera then cowers in fear.)

Jerry: Get him outta here!

(Steve and 2 other security guards tussle with Phil, eventually wrenching him from his seat.)

Dr. Phil: You don’t need zilch to skin a gopher! You don’t need to join a bank to rob the Jehovah’s Witnesses! You don’t need Cat Scratch Fever to drop and give me twenty!*

Duane: (turns to Belial) Belial, I knew how much you loved to skateboard and I felt awful after the surgery. That’s the whole reason I’m carrying you around in this basket and unleashing you on these well-meaning doctors to devour them alive. You’re just going to have to accept that you’ll never skate again, I’m sorry.

Basket Case Murder Doctor Scene

Stock in red dye and corn syrup increased dramatically during the filming of this movie.

Belial through Translator: You and your biped envy! That’s how it’s been throughout our entire relationship, Jerry. I haven’t cared about skating since the X-Games got ahold of it and turned it into some “Extreme” Mt.Dew corporate-sponsored monkey show with that troglodyte Shaun White as its ass-face.

Crowd: Booo! Booo!

Belial: You proved you’d leave me for some poon when you bought that crappy tube TV to distract me while you snuck off and went on a cheesy date to the Statue of Liberty with that receptionist, Sharon. “Ooh, let’s go walk up a million stairs and look at the city, just like we could have done at my hotel, except with an elevator.  What part of the body do you think we’re in now, heh heh?” Perv.

Basket Case Receptionist Brother

If we get cold we can just make a blanket out of your weave.

Duane: See what I have to put up with? A television is a really nice gift, especially in pre-Giuliani New York. I could have bought another kind of “set” from the guy on the corner and you wouldn’t have even noticed I’d left. (to audience) As it was, he destroyed the new TV and the hotel room in that creepy claymation stop-action way that he moves. That’s why we can’t have nice things. (takes off shoe and bounces it off of Belial’s bloated body)

Crowd: Wooooo!

Belial: Whatever! You’re no nice guy. Why don’t you tell them about how you dragged me to the bar to meet up with your “friend” the prostitute and proceeded to get sloppy drunk, forgetting me in the hallway once we got home?

Duane: Wait a minute! Wait a minute!

Belial: It’s true!

Jerry: We’ve got someone here who might have something to add. Bring out…Casey!

(Casey walks onstage blowing kisses and flipping her skirt up coyly. Duane and Belial continue bickering in the background.)

Jerry: Casey, you are… (reads cards) … an employee of “Disease-Free Guaranteed” or DFG Escorts, is that right?

Casey: That’s right, Jerry. We supply every customer with 3 clean certificates of health for their records. Our company is currently at 250 days with no lawsuits or accidents.

(Crowd applauds.)

Jerry: And what did you want to tell Belial today?

Casey: Jerry, today I want to tell him…

Jerry: Talk to Belial. Talk to him.

(Crowd hushes.)

Casey: Belial… I’ve loved you for a long time…

(Belial blinks in shock. His mouth hangs open, revealing malformed fangs.)

Casey: Duane, when we met at the bar and you got so wasted I had to carry you home, I thought it was no big deal. But then when I went to leave and found your brother left in the hall to fend on his own inside that flimsy wicker basket, well, I knew you just don’t care about him. But I do.

(Casey smiles at Belial who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.)

Crowd: Wooooo! Woooooo!

Duane: (shocked and disbelieving) Casey this is crazy. All he does is scream and throw things around. When he gets scared he hides in the toilet. Plus he has to eat raw meat everyday. Are you willing to take on these extra costs?

Basket Case Shitty Movie

Cue toilet flushing sounds.

Casey: I love him for his mind Duane. I don’t care about anything else.

Jerry: Belial, what do you have to say about this?

Belial: I guess I need to tell you both something.

(Crowd starts to whisper.)

Belial: I slept with Sharon the receptionist.

(Crowd gasps.)

Belial: And then I strangled her.

(More gasps.)

Belial: And then I kept screwing her after she was dead.

(Audience member vomits into aisle.)

Duane: (dazed) You mean that wasn’t a dream? I was running through the streets of New York naked and then found you at Sharon’s apartment rocking back-and-forth over her dead corpse in a pool of her blood? That was real?

Belial: Well, the running through the streets part naked was a dream. I have no idea why that even got any airtime except maybe to show off your huge 1980s bush. Thank god for manscaping.

(Crowd titters.)

Belial: (clears throat) But yeah, the sex and the death. That stuff was real.

Duane: But you don’t even have…

Casey: (through tears) Yes he does! (disintegrates into sobbing mess)

(Man in purple suit storms onstage.)

Pimp: That it, bitch. Get goin’. Nino Brown want to see you in 30 minutes anyway and you gotsta take a bath first. Wash yo ass.

(Casey is led offstage to catcalls and a flying pair of boxer briefs. Steve picks up the underwear, reads the name and number inscribed upon them and stuffs them in his back pocket.)

Camera pans back to Jerry shotgunning a Coors Light. He belches.

Jerry: Eye of the Tiger baby. What? What’s going on?

Jerry Springer Press Copy Photo

If I were to pen his obituary, I would definitely fit "laughing all the way to the bank" in there somewhere.

Duane: You whore!

Belial: You’re a simpering pansy! You wouldn’t have tried it with either of them. You can’t even lose your virginity when your next door neighbor is a prostitute who pays to get you hammered at a bar!

(Duane throws a chair at Belial. Belial rockets through the air and clasps his stumps around Duane’s neck. Duane unconvincingly wrestles him around the stage, attempting to make it look like an inanimate object is propelling their movement. Duane gives up and runs the both of them offstage. The crowd goes wild, slobbering and keening, trying to rip their own chairs out of the floor.)

Jerry: Okay, okay. Let’s settle down now. Where did Duane and Belial go?

(Switch to cameramen running through the back hallways of the Jerry Springer set. One runs upstairs, to the roof, and discovers Belial hanging off the Jerry Springer sign with Duane dangling from his stumpy claw. Duane is suspended by his neck.)

Cameraman: I got ‘em! I found them!

(Jerry runs up stairs to roof.)

Jerry: (peering over edge) What the [bleep]. (whirls around to face camera)

Jerry: (glances sideways) The actions taken by members of this program are not a reflection of News Corporation or its sister companies. Viewer discretion was advised. Do not try this at home…and…..uh…intended for mature audiences only.

(Belial loses his grip and both he and Duane plummet to their deaths on the cold pavement.)

Jerry: Please stay tuned for my final thought.

<Commercial break>

Jerry: Hi! Welcome back. Firstly, I realize this was an anticlimactic and abrupt end to the show. What can I say, it is just like the movie. In any event, I just want to thank all our guests for being here, and want to express my deepest condolences for Duane and Belial’s family and friends. It is a sad world where a somewhat normal young man can lose both his girlfriend and his life to a tumor with a face. I hope that you, audience, are able to work through your differences and find happiness, be it through the love of a man, a woman, a California Raisin or even to just purchase it for a few hours.

(Wild signaling from offstage.)

Jerry: (clears throat) Not that I condone prostitution. There are many fine gentlemen’s clubs around where a lonely fella can pay either an exotic dancer or a bartender to pretend to like him for as many hours as he has dollars. Amen and God bless America.

(Jerry walks offstage and Gary Busey hands him a Coors Light. They walk into the spotlight, silhouetted and fade out.)**

Announcer: Be sure to tune in next time, when Ghost Hunters Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson battle it out with Jennifer Love Hewitt over who has the douchiest ghost-related show on television. Tomorrow on Springer!

* These quotes were taken from which provides visitors with a random Dr. Phil quote generator. Thank you Mangy Dog!

** Are you interested in that stolid yet lovable friend of Jerry Springer’s, Gary Busey? Stay tuned until next week for an intoxicating review of his masterpiece, “Eye of the Tiger.”

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Filed under "Thriller", Bad Erotic Thriller, Bitching and whining, Childhood Memories, Horror

Flower and Snake Film Review

I think that Netflix needs to supply its users with a little more in the way of synopses, when my cursor hovered over Flower and Snake (2005) a slightly tawdry but ultimately (I thought) innocent blurb appeared. Something along the lines of; protagonist Shizuko’s high-powered businessman husband tends to ignore her. Lonely, she starts to fantasize about him showing sexually. Fine. Masochistically. Still…fine. Shizuko is kidnapped by a crime lord as payment for hubby’s debts and while held hostage she is tortured…Hmm…and she likes it! (Punctuation, Netflix) Ok, I’ll check it out.

Once the movie began, the words Tokyo Shock flashed across the screen. Being vaguely aware of what people find shocking in Tokyo, the first wave of unease overtook me. Quickly, I discovered that I cannot stomach much of the Tokyo-version of shock. I will tell you honestly that Flower and Snake was stopped at the halfway point and then fast-forwarded through to the end. This is undoubtedly a torture-porn film and director Takashi Ishii pulls no punches. Or strangleholds. Or forced consumption of, oh, well you get the point.

Flower and Snake film

How did my trainer say I was supposed to use this machine? God, I hate the gym.

If you are familiar with Ishii you may know him by another designation: Japanese sexploitation guru. Shame on me for not researching a director prior to my movie-viewing experience.  I’m sure I’ll make the same mistake again. Anyway, if sexploitation is the name of the game, then Ishii is most definitely the MVP. In the name of decency I won’t outline the details of what happened on the torture stage that Shizuko ultimately inhabits for the length of Flower and Snake. A few highlights though: a crucifix, cross-dressing in children’s costumes, face masks á la Eyes Wide Shut, an IV bag and a white horse.

Anyway, the parts leading up to the torture are pretty entertaining, as Flower and Snake is shot in a highly stylized cinema style reminiscent of Japanese cartoons.  At the outset, Ishii establishes the hell out of Shizuko’s hidden, dirty mind with lots of fantasy sequences. Once that scene is set, he quickly brings in the Rent-A-Center Asian thugs to spin some sketchy story about how Shizuko’s hubby owes them some money. The plot gets hustled along to the torture stage as quickly as possible, leaving a myriad of insensible bread crumbs for viewers to try to follow.

This movie is gross-out shocking and misogynistic shocking but not surprise shocking. It is predictable in that the plot essentially falls off after Shizuko’s abduction and morphs into the Faces of Death mold. Bodily harm and sexual degradation can be dug up on any number of distasteful internet sites so why would someone dress it up as cinema and ask you to pay to watch? It’s shocking.

– Written by Kelli

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Filed under Bad Erotic Thriller, Bad Foreign Romance, Bad Foreign Thriller