So last week I got a call at 4 in the morning “Steve this is Drive-in Dan. Do you know what day it is?” I still could barely understand the concept that I was using a phone.  ”It’s Tuesday and this dream really sucks.” I said grogily.  ”Yeah but It’s a very important Tuesday! Today marks the 3 year anniversary of Lost Highway! Can you believe it?” to which I responded “Who is this? and how many pixie sticks you been sniffin?”  ”I’ve cut back to 43 but that’s besides the point. We need to do a contest and give away something cool!” I thought about it for a while. “hello?” he said after a long moment of silence. “I think I got some pop-tarts and a extra tire gauge still in the wrapper. I’ll give them to you if you go away now and let me sleep you strange voice in my head.” “Don’t worry I’ll come up with it…you just sit back and watch the awesome. Gotta go…got to get the reels ready for tonights drive-in… oh and build a walk in shower. Bye!” At that point I believe my snoring drowned out the dialtone.

3 years old…wow that’s like 30 in Internet years. That makes the site so old that I just might go ahead retire now and collect some of that sweet social security the government’s been promising me. Good days are ahead my friends. Yes I’ll now be able to drive with my blinker on all the time and blurt out inappropriate things at parties. People will just be like “oh he’s an old blogger.” and nod their head in sympathy. You young kids with all your Twitterings and Facebookies…I remember when all we had were websites and email and we liked it that way

There are other benefits to being an old blogger. I can get get a handicap parking permit for the strip clubs and senior discounts at any of the local golden shovel buffets. Finally I’ll be able to get my money’s worth without having to be over 300 pounds. “Sorry No room for dessert I just got done eating 3 pounds of ham.” Yes it’ll be a cornacopia of geriatrics and gluttony. I suspect many senior citizens actually live there and just cycle back through the lines.

So I might just stay there or maybe there’s a nice retirement center that specializes in old b-movie bloggers? A place where people like me that can rattle off movie quotes for any occasion. Where movie nights consist of beasts, breasts, and blood. Where board games meet hardcore drinking. Where shuffle board and vodka end in someone breaking a hip. Where Walker fights break over Lipitor deals gone bad and senile gangs start turf wars. “Yeah you see Warriors that’s what you get when ya mess with the Orphans!”

Yes it’ll be a special day when Retroman hits the retirement scene so until then here’s to 30 more years of Lost Highway sheninigans and to future Lost Movie nights at the Shadey Twin Pines Senior Center. I hope to see ya there. Now get the hell of my lawn!

Speaking of senior citizen discounts, in Death Race 2000 old people are the top point getters for hit and runs in the Transcontinental Road Race. Surprisingly even more points than teenagers?! This must be the FUTURE! America is run by a fascists emperor calling himself the president and France has ruined the world …like we all knew it would. The only entertainment for the masses without American Idol re-runs is a race across country pitting 5 cars against each other and any people stupid enough to be jay walking. Consider it an evolution of NASCAR but now the drivers can take out the fans in the Walmart parking lot for big bonus points. David “I know kung-fu” Carradine and Sylvester “I don’t say Adriane anymore” Stallone star in this tale of competitive vehicular homocide. Mr. Caradine fresh from TV decided the best career move was to dress up in a S&M outfit and drive a lizard car. Surprisingly it worked for him. He plays the legendary frankenstein race car driver whose body has been rumored to be reconstructed from used Maytag dryer parts and duct tape allowing him not only shift the car at lightening speed but to dry his own cloths while wearing them. So big Frank and his bombshell beauty copilot Anne (Simone Griffeth) race across country against free-wheelin nazis and blood thirsty cowboys in cars with steer horns for the coveted winners circle. 1st place gets you a hand shake with the president but no commercial endorsements. that’s a whole lotta of chaffing and talcum powder for sitting in a race car that long. Little do people realize Frank has other intentions that don’t involve ads for viagra and plans to blow up the president with a makeshift “Hand” gernade himself. Meanwhile a group of revolutionaries dressed in blue jumpsuits hang around watching TV and plot to destroy the race and replaced Frankenstein with a more pudgy decoy. They learn It’s hard to fake anorexia and Frankenstein foils their plans numerous times while avoiding all their other Willy coyote trappings.*

The racers eventually take a pit stop at their 70’s local civic center and get all nekkid and massaged by big sides of Beef with fake tans. So many boobies! Stallone who plays Machine Gun Joe has a deep hatred of Frankenstein whom he thinks has been stealing the races and taking all his glory. Maybe if Joe stopped gunning down his fans or running over his pit crew he might be a bit more liked. At one point he gets in a scuffle with bean pole carradine when he’s found trying to choke Ann. Big Frank easily kicks Joe’s butt with his patent slow-mo kung-fu but I personally fault Joe’s pink tie. Guys in pink tennis sweaters wrapped around their necks also get beaten regularly. It’s really an epidemic.

Frankenstein later takes out a good dozen or so nurses and doctors at a local drive-thru hospital purposely missing those big scoring old folks parked on the street. He also takes a quick detour to run over the head of his fan club and then peels out on the pope to rack up some major pointage. Yes this is our hero ladies and gentlemen. He runs over medical personal, clergy, and his favorite fans. Later he drugs Annie with some tainted Gatoraide just in time to get dive bombed by a prop plane whose aiming skills is on par with a Glaucomic Barney Fiffe . Racers start getting offed left and right mostly through their own stupidity and it all culminates to  a showdown with the evil Mr. president. Asta la veto baby.

Roger Corman produced this film and actually though this movie would be a disaster when he first read the concept thinking it would be “just too dark and vile.” Luckily the director Paul Bartel convinced him otherwise and knew to take it in a more satirical direction. The result was pure b-movie gold. It’s one of my all time favorite b-movies as well as my first review I did for Lost Highway. So grab your leather jumpsuit and talcum powder and check out “Death Race 2000.”

- Multiple hit and runs
- 3 car explosions with crash and burn
- 6 breasts
- 1 “hand” gernade
- 1 explodo-toddler
- Black leather chaffing
- Homicidal bowling
- Bull fighting
- Exploding head fu
- Fly fishing fu

9.7 out of 10

“Myra, some people might think you’re cute, but I happen to think you’re a very large baked potato.” Wow…a big slam on potatoes everywhere. I’m sure they got letters from people in Idaho.

*ACME in no way endorses this movie or the use of their products and patent ideas for road runner capture.

Check out the trailer for Death Race 2000

In a recent BBC article It’s been discovered that a our littlest friends under our feet, the Argentine ant, is actually part of a vast mega colony that has already colonized much of our planet. Scary? yes… and maybe the largest species that could even rival humans in their population scale but with less strip malls and urban sprawl. These ants were once only native to south America (hence the Brazilian waxed thoraxes) and now cover every continent by hitching a ride on our shoes…well everywhere except ANTartica. They figured with a name like that it was already spoken for. Faced with this news of impeding insect invasion, I just want to take this moment to welcome our benevolent insect overlords and offer my services in managing diabetic worker slaves in the vast sugar factories. Let’s just try to forget my younger years involving a magnifying glass on a sunny day or that ant farm I accidentally flooded with radiator fluid.

Speaking of mutant ants taking over the world, “Empire of the Ants” leads us to believe that not only can radioactive waste cause insects to grow to the size of Volkswagons but they can also setup thriving sugar based economies, run factories, and managed cheap labor forces. All this in a single day.

Joan Collins takes a break from crappy TV shows to play a unscrupulous land developer, Marilyn Fryser. She’s trying to sell island real estate to clueless Floridians in leisure suits. Little do they know one of the island perks is scenic sunset views of radioactive barrels of toxic waste washing ashore right where the ants like to sunbath. The typical poorly sealed nuclear storage containers start leaking silver paint all over the ants and suddenly BAMMM! gigantus insectus among-us making picnic runs on Marilyn’s clients.

After discovering some dead construction workers covered in Smuckers raspberry jam the remaining customers decide to hightail it outta there as fast as their golf cart tour bus can carry them. Easily exceeding speeds of 10 mph they finally arrive back at the beach to find their tour boat getting antified. Dan, our grizzly faced boat captain swims out to try to save his precious scooner but the ants gives him the smack down. In a Gilligan-esque moment he decides to just to blow up the boat instead. The skipper would be proud. Now trapped on the island, rained on, hungry and without any extra eyeliner for Joan Collins they start to head towards the center of the island in hopes of rescue. The very old and very senile couple trailing the group decides it best to go off on their own hiding out in a dilapidated shack. Their last words would be “don’t worry we’ll be safe in here” proving again that old people are among the first to die in any b-movie.

The survivors battling their poor sense of direction take a old boat down the river and run into an ant made baricade and have to battle American Gladiator gauntlet style with giant foam ant heads. The cameraman appears to be in the thick of the action because heck if anyone can tell whose landing any punches with all those styrofoam legs flailing around. The boat sinks and they find a creepy old couple living in a barb wired cottage retreat who take them to town (this island must be huge!) They know something’s strange is happening in hicksville with not a Walmart or PigglyWiggly in sight and bets are someone’s been hoarding all the sugar packs too.

Their suspicions are confirmed when they find the towns folk being rounded up and taken to the gigantic sugar factory outside town which are apparently quite prevalent in the Florida everglades. Inside the factory, people are lining up like it’s a carnival ride to get sprayed with a cloud of ant pheromone from a queen ant crammed into a phone booth. This mind control spray makes the victim do whatever the queen asks of them plus it has the side benefit of the fresh scent of Lysol. It’s pretty much like if they went to a Pink Floyd laser show and got a contact buzz. Thankfully Dan fends of the ants and towns folk with a road flare and his extreme grizzliness then loads up the last of the survivors onto yet another boat ready to get lost again in the swamp. Hey the guy really likes boats can ya dig? I think the factory blew up too at some point but they ran out of budget…it’s mostly implied by a guy driving aimlessly around in a fuel tanker and then there’s a grease fire and some flaming ant footage.

I was surprised at the low level special effects this movie utilized for a 70’s monster film. I’d swear it was a 1950’s sci-fi movie if it wasn’t for the eye piercing leisure suits and feathered hairdos. Lots of split screens between the actors and ants, toy models with ants trying to climb the painted back drop, and styrofoam props make the effects on par with a Gamera film. The most redeeming quality of this movie is seeing Joan Collins impaled by a giant queen ant after getting her brain zapped. “That’s for making us endure Dallas..see ya in hell!”  ”Empire of the Ants” is cheesy little b-flick that just goes to show you can make a movie without the need for acting, special effects or even a plot getting in the way.

-Extreme leisure-suits
-Nuclear waste in a can
-Joan Collins fu
-Fraudulent resort tours
-Paddle fu
-Ant smoke contact buzz
-Road flair phone booth attacks
-Giant styrofoam ants
-Exploding sugar shacks
-Kaleidoscope ant vision
-Redneck mind control

I give it a 7.3 out of 10..but that’s only because the ants are watching me… right now….listening to my thoughts.

Check out the trailer for Empire of the Ants

“On my planet this shirt attracts the females of my species.”

I’m not what you call a proficient grocery shopper. I don’t stock up on coupons or scan through the Sunday paper looking for the latest deals on canned tuna and toasted Wheat Thins. I only know it’s time to shop when I can no longer make a full meal from the refrigerator’s remaining survivors.. usually some condiments, a jar of olives, and a box of baking soda. So putting on a coat over my PJ’s I’d head out for that late night grocery run.

Late nights food runs you’d often find the store empty of customers so it was difficult to even find a checkout lady to wave me over to her conveyor belt. This time I was forced to confront the newest shopping breakthrough that was the new self checkout machine. Hey I’m a man of the world, a technology connoisseur, I could surely conquer this fancy slot machine wanna-be. First the Cheetos bag wouldn’t scan and when it did, It told me I bought 25 bags worth forever bestowing me the title “the crazy Cheetos guy.” Then placing the items in the bag a condescending computer voice would keep telling me to “Please place the item in the bag”… “Oh you mean the item that’s already in the bag?” The computer didn’t seem to understand any sense of irony. My arms had grown weak from the numerous failed attempts at scanning some cantaloupe and the Fonzi method of banging the machine on the side didn’t seem to help any so eventually a technician had to show me where to put my crinkled dollar bills. Who would have thought groceries need IT support.

I thought technology was supposed to make things easier. When was it decided that “easier” was just do it yourself? Self-serve gas station, ATM banking, and self scanning checkout lines, these are advances in modern convenience? No I want someone else to do this for me because I’m American and laziness is my God given constitutional right. if you’re not going to give me a real person to do the job then at least give me a robot. This 2009 after all, I should have my own jetpack and hover car by now. I shouldn’t be standing in my PJ’s swipping cans of lima beans while a lady in a purple mu mu waits behind me with her big box of glazed chick peas. Next time I will just go when a friendly cashier lady is available that will gladly talk with me about the weather as she scans my groceries while perfectly bagging things so my bread isn’t crushed by the 2 gallon mayonnaise jar and bag of ice (Hey I like potato salad and it was hot that night.)

Speaking of ladies that excel at their jobs. Switchblade sisters introduces us to a gang of street-wise ladies called the Dagger Debs who’ve made a career at beating up elevator passengers and picking fights at the local Dairy Queen. The Debs are led by Lace, a high-strung snappy dresser who works out her dialog through clenched teeth like she’s got a case of lock jaw. She and her gal pals beat up a helpless landlord, go jay walking,  and then take a break at the ice cream shop. Here they run into a cute blondie named Maggie who is hogging one of their favorite seats. Maggie’s your sorta typical girl next door…if your typical girl is packin’ heat and has inner rage issues. Little do they know she’s the kind of girl that will cut you deep for even looking at her Oreo Blizzard the wrong way so she slices one of the gang members across the face with a knife. The police suddenly show up like a swat team before it can turn really ugly. Apparently a doughnut shop was very close by.

The Debs all end up in a juvenile detention center where some big burly lady wardens try to make the night moves on the new girls but end up getting the snot beat out of them instead. Maggie is finally freed from juvi-jail but has an even worse time on the outside when she’s raped by Lace’s boyfriend Dom. Dom is the leader of another powerful gang called the Silver daggers, a ruthless gang of thugs who resemble the cast from Welcome Back Kotter and enjoy playing billiards between felonies. Lace trusts Maggie and invites her to join the Debs not knowing that her and Dom just did the nasty at her apartment the night before. The resident cyclops “Patch” happily points out that Maggie has to be initiated first before becoming a true Deb and then starts whining about how she “lost her eye for this gang.” But really, how can you take a pirate seriously?

They send her on a mission to recover a toy prop necklace from a rival gang leader who goes by the unfortunate name of crabs. Great way to impress the ladies when you’re named after a venereal disease. Crab runs a fake community center where they give out narcotics under the disguise as vitamin pills so that he can buy even more hideous shirts for his wardrobe. Maggie stops by at their headquarters and  pretends to be attracted to Mr. Crabs which is probably the most impressive acting you’ll see in the whole film. In the middle of her seduction act she bites him on his Shootzle Deetzle, grabs the necklace and breaks through a office wall like the Koolaid man. Maggie returns to the Debs triumphant with her newly won trophy. Now there’s no questioning Maggie’s loyalty  with her ability to steal novelty prop jewelry.

Later on the Debs and the Daggers are vengefully ambushed by the Crab gang at the local rollerskating rink.  Lace gets punched in the baby maker whose oven was already preheated with Dom’s unborn kid and Dom gets a shotgun blast to the belly by the big Red Lobster himself. Maggie and Lace have to leave him to bleed to death in the center rink while Donna Summers music still blares on… a truly horrifying fate for anyone.

Maggie and Lace decide they want to avenge Dom’s death so they enlist some black power lady militants who drive pimped out armored Cadillacs and get their kicks making white hippies in disco shirts run and scream like little girls. I think that’s something anyone can really enjoy though. But not everything is as it seems there’s plot twists a plenty as jealously and secrets are threatening to destroy the gang. Who set up whom, who had an affair with who…who is loyal to whom. And when should the word whom actually be used in a sentence? It all ends up in a good old dance of death with switchblade divas giving us a great Shakespearean twist to this little exploitation romp.

Tarantino released this as his second film in his Rolling Thunder film series so be sure to check out his intro and outro on the DVD extras. His movie clerk geekiness clearly shows as he talks in great detail about the film and why they changed the name from The Jezebels to Switchblade Sisters. You can tell he was just up late one night at the videostore wired up on Jujubes and diet Coke while watching it. Also Keep an eye out for Don Stark who plays Hook. Yes it’s the same Don Stark that played Bob Picnciotti in that 70’s show and by gosh he still had the same hair and side burns. A great cheesy exploitation film, Retroman says check it out and be sure to be packin some heat.

- Multiple gang shootings
- 1 neck stabbing
- Medallion-fu
- Wacka-chicka-wacka fu
- Welcome Back Kotter doppelgangers
- Dairy Queen Dagger Queens
- Face plunging
- Swirly-fu
- Vita-van vandals
- Cadi-tanks
- Bellybutton ashtrays

Rated 8.9 out of 10

Check out the trailer for Switchblade Sisters

“This has to be the worse salad bar I’ve ever seen.”

You know we’re living in a rough economy when even an American foundation like Playboy is struggling. They recently announced a net loss of 2.1 million dollars and they would have to lay off employees and tighten the company’s budget or face potential bankruptcy. I only wonder how is Hugh Hefner going to cut back? Will Playboy bunnies be forced to buy their own rabbit ears and sleazy lounge uniforms? Will there be less air brushing in the centerfolds? Will Hugh have to settle with only a couple girls on on his arms instead of the dozen or so buxom blondes normally surrounding him. It would be an American tragedy if he was forced to turn in the smoking jacket and pipe for a Walmart greeter uniform and smiley button flare. I mean how can this man survive in those conditions? The long established tradition of teenagers hiding their stash of Playboys under their mattresses is now at risk. Millions of them are at risk to be forced to read Sears underwear catalogs, playboy playmates out on the streets holding up signs that read “will tell you my likes and dislikes for food.” We simply can’t allow that to happen.

Speaking of men that  really like their melons, Charles Bronson plays Vince Majestyk, a Vietnam vet turn watermelon farmer and a collector of denim jackets and goofy hats. Vince is approached one day while working out in his fields by a scraggly Owen Wilson wanna-be named Bobby Copas. Bobby finds combing his hair difficult and likes to dress in cheap western wear while trying to talk farmers into hiring some of his gang of drunks and homeless. He’s sort of the used car dealers of cheap labor but Chuck Bronson will have no part of his shenanigans as he’s totally content with his $1 an hour illegal immigrant work force and smashes him in the groin with the end of his own shotgun. Now that’s how you negotiate a labor dispute. Majestyk has to serve some time at the county jail for that little fruit smashing incident and is worried about not being able to get his crops in on time but the sergeant doesn’t really care for fruit salad and makes him serve his sentence. While being transported on a prison bus along with a Mafia big fish, Frank Redna, a breakout attempt occurs along with big 70’s style shootout that gives Vince the chance to kidnap Frank and use him as leverage to help clear the charges against him. Though the thought of hiding out in a tiny cabin with a loud mouthed mobster might be a worser fate than any jail time. Frank is eventually picked up by his rail-thin girlfriend and Vince has to squeeze into the back seat of a 70’s Ford compact.

The drop off to the police doesn’t go as planned and Vince ends up tumbling out the backseat like a tossed watermelon into a ditch. Frank tries to shoot at him with typical bad guy accuracy and Vince easily escapes fleeing into the woods. Being the upright citizen Vince turns himself in to the police station only to find that Bobby Copas has dropped the assault charges against him so that he and his new Mafia friends can put some major hurt on Vince when he’s set free. Haven’t any of these guys ever seen a Death Wish movie?

With the help of a pretty immigrant union organizer named Nancy, Mr. Majestic goes back to his normal life of melon tossin’ and squinting in the sun until his workers start ending up getting bullied by Frank and company. Vince’s right hand man has his legs smashed, his workers are forced out of their homes at gunpoint, and policemen in Porta-Potties turn up dead…but that is barley even enough to curl his mustache.

The final straw is when a mobster hit squad shots up his watermelon crop with some semi machine guns while Vince is out putting the moves on La Senorita Nancy. Nothing makes a farmer angrier than a pointless melon massacre and he goes on a vengeful shooting spree against this gang of Gallagher impersonators. Finally, a fruit cup of justice is served. Some great cross country truck racing, cars getting pushed off cliffs, and a log cabin stand-off make the highlight reel in this 70’s film classic as Charlie Bronson becomes the ultimate watermelon vigilante. Retroman says check it out and don’t forget to spit out the seeds.

- 3 Shoot-outs
- 1 Mobster kidnapping
- Shotgun butt to the groin
- Multiple car chases and car explosions
- Water-melon-fu
- Drive by Porta-Potty attack
- 2 by 4 smack down
- Vehicular leg crushing

Rated 9.4 out of 10

My Uncle told me when I was a little kid if I didn’t spit out the watermelon seeds that a watermelon would grow in my stomach . So I thought that pregnant ladies were just carrying around watermelons in their bellies. So began my unhealthy fear of fruit…and of pregnant women.

Check out the trailer for Mr. Majestyk

Look man, I told you to bring your ray-bans with you!  Now we look like dorks!”

The movie starts with Colonel Robert Neville, M.D. (Charlton Heston) discovering a vaccine which counter-acts a bio-warfare germ released in a war between the Soviets and Chinese.  Neville manages to inject himself at the last moment, but everyone else dies, leaving Neville alone and really, really lonely for a girlfriend.  Neville spends the next couple of years tearing bikini posters off of walls and indulging his female mannequin fetish.

It turns out not everyone infected by the germs dies; some of them turn into hippie-zombie-luddites.  Yes, they’re hippies with long hair who want to tear society down, they’re mostly undead, and they hate technology.  Just in case 1971 white America didn’t get the point of this movie, they also hate “honkys”.  For reasons that are never really explained, the infected dress up as monks and call themselves “the family”.  They also build catapults and use guns, despite the fact that they’re supposed to be against technology.

About an hour into the movie Neville finds other survivors and wastes no time getting busy with Lisa (Rosalind Cash), who’s infected but has no symptoms.  There’s a really creepy scene where Neville smiles broadly at Lisa and we get a close-up of Neville’s teeth.  Wow, that really should have been edited out.  Hopefully the NRA was able to offer him better dental care.

Inspired by his new found love interest, Neville uses his own “Anglo-Saxon blood” to synthesize an antidote to the bio-warfare germs for Lisa and her brother, who are both African-Americans.  Things are looking up until Lisa’s little brother, fresh from being saved by Neville’s blood, is killed by the zombies.  After that, all heck breaks loose as Lisa turns into a zombie, Neville’s home is burned down, and he takes a spear to the chest while trying to save Lisa.  In the last scene, he hands a bottle of the antidote, an extract from his own blood, to the remaining survivors.  He promptly dies in a pose just like Jesus on the cross, amidst a pool of his own blood.

Charlton Heston, Zombie-Hippies-Luddites, the collapse of civilization, race relations in America, white America as Jesus on the Cross, they’re all here.  In this case Neville represents traditional American values of the time; technical superiority, moral superiority, spiritual superiority, military superiority, masculinity, and guns, lots and lots of big guns, the way god and Uncle Sam meant it to be.  Neville spends roughly half the movie running around without his shirt, armed with a machine gun, drenched in sweat, perhaps in a bid to knock-out the zombies with his personal aroma or bullets, whichever works first.

This film is a moment in time, a reflection of the social and racial paranoia and unrest of the early 70’s.  The zombies are hippies and minorities who have no respect for culture, tradition or the benefits of modern life in America.  They’re ruining everything white Americans worked to build and making the cities scary!  The only way to escape it was to move out and away from the city.  Honey, let’s move to the suburbs, and fast…

- Homicidal Hippie-Zombie-Luddites dressed as monks
- NRA going out of business sale
- Zombie Catapults!
- Mannequin fetish
- Charlton Heston’s teeth
- Saxon Blood super formula – now with world saving power!
- Neville as Christ on the Cross

rated 7.0 out of 10

Check out the trailer for Omega-man

“So a mouse, a French leprechaun and an Indian walk into a bar…”

You know I often wonder why people refer to high school as the best years of their lives. Do these people actually remember what is was like back then, or do they get those years confused with a “Saved by the Bell” episode? This adolescent socialist prison system had to be some sort of evil physiological test confined to a rat maze of smelly lockers. Perhaps it was created by an ancient race of aliens in order to understand human behavior. If you’ve seen some of the school board members, you’d believe it, too. High school was divided into social cliques in their own 70’s street-gang style. There were the nerds, the geeks, bandzies, spazes, jocks, ice queens, druggies, snobs, and other lesser-known sub-categories like “fans of David Hasselhoff” or “kids that can play Casio keyboards.” And yes, I belonged to that last group ( I can still play Van Halen’s “Jump.”). It’s amazing lunch time didn’t erupt into a turf war. My money would be on the nerds…they had skills like MacGyver and could rig-up some explosives with a napkin, a couple of wires, and some day-old burritos. Watch out for the ice queens, though; they were like brain Ninjas…they’d leap from the rafters and attack your self-esteem and poor fashion sense. It’s strange looking back and wondering why we ever cared about who likes who; will I be able to learn to play Axel-F on my keyboard; will I ever pass Algebra? Guess what? Algebra…you’ll never use it again. That’s why they build calculators into shopping cart handles now. Gym class? I haven’t had the need to climb a rope since then, and don’t plan to, unless I’m involved in a prison break someday. Chemistry class…I seem to remember something about a periodic table, but I get that confused with the term “occasional furniture.” Just remember, kids: these are not the best years of your life; those are coming later and it’s called “college”…and possibly “retirement” for others. But do count your blessings. No paying taxes, no house payments, no responsibilities, and an unlimited amount of time to play Halo 3 on your Xbox. Curse you, Snipermaster07 and your unlimited training time. I will defeat you someday.

Speaking of high school kids with too much time on their hands, “Rock ‘n’ Roll High School” is a 70’s musical featuring the Ramones and a wide assortment of teenagers who are most likely to break out and dance at any moment. Gym class turns into Jazzercise; freshmen get stuffed into lockers; and hallways become punk rocking mosh pits. PJ Stolls of “Halloween” fame plays Riff Randal, the always-perky rock ‘n’ roll rebel whose obsession in life is to write a song for the Ramones and have them serenade her in her bathroom. Kate Rambeau (not the Vietnam vigilante) is her nerdy friend who has a crush on the football captain, Tom, played by Vincent Van Patten. Tom just happens to be even geekier than Kate with his name proudly embroidered across his jersey, as well as his lame pickup lines about the weather and driving around in his Dungeons and Dragons Warlock van.  Hey haven’t I seen this van somewhere else?

Johnny and Kate are trained in dating techniques by none other than the gigolo of cool, Clint Howard. He’s Ron Howard’s more handsome brother. He plays Eaglebauer, the school’s one-man, one-named Mafia, who runs a very profitable business from within the boys’ bathroom stalls, complete with his own secretary and voice-over announcer. I see a future corporate CEO position for this guy. Embezzlement and corruption sure…but the man’s got moxy, and already has a receding hairline as a teenager.

A new principal is brought to clean up the school, Miss Togar the Ogre (Mary Woronov). She is a tall Nazi-like warden, whose hair buns are wound tighter than Princess Leia’s. She also enjoys blowing up mice with blaring rock music. Hey, all this lady needs is a date and a day at the spa. Her plans is to rule Vince Lombardi High School with an iron fist, along with her Boy Scout hall monitors Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. Riff fights back by camping out to buy tickets for the town’s big Ramones concert. The band shows up in a big pink Cadillac with the phrase “Gabba Gabba Hey” blazoned across their license Plate, while eating chicken and playing guitar. Yet Riff still wants to buy the ticket and doesn’t run away screaming. Nothing against the Ramones, their music defined punk rock, but they sure were a homely group of rockers, and Joey, their lead singer, was the definition of eccentric. The man lived off wheat germ and riboflavin, and would cower in the shadows to avoid the deadly rays of the sun. Also an honorable mention to Paul Bartel, who plays the wacky music professor and recently converted Ramon-ite. He shows up to the concert in a French-Leprechaun outfit, complete with beret, rocking out with a giant white Rat, and an Indian Chief. Now there’s something you won’t see in “Grease.”  The Ramones show up later at the school for yet another concert (Why did the students even have to buy tickets to begin with for the town concert?), and after a good old-fashioned album burning by the parents, they end up blowing up the school with some homemade dynamite, mixed by Kate Rambo…Yes, she finally lives up to her namesake. The TV announcer signs-off by reminding us “if your principal gives you trouble and you want the same to happen at your school, then give Screamin’ Steve a call.” Screamin’ Steve is now on a terrorist watch list, and the students are serving time in Guantanimo.

If you liked cheesy musicals like “Little Shop of Horrors”, “Grease”, or “Hairspray”, I think you’ll rock out to this cult classic and lasting film tribute to the Ramones. It was originally titled “Disco High School”, and they thankfully changed the title out of fear that nobody would see it, except Travolta fanboys. And you can only handle so much on-screen Bee-Gees. Retroman Steve says, “Gabba Gabba grab a copy and check it out.”

Roadside Attractions

-Boy Scout hall monitors
-blow-up doll sexual assaults
-freshman locker stuffing
-remote-controlled airplane flying
-explod-o-mice
-rock ‘n’ roll gym class
-bra- fu
-music instructors in berets
-Ramones bathroom attendants
-extreme hall monitoring
-record-ka-bobs
-lunch lady firing squads
-shag carpeted vans

rated 8.6 out of 10 for the movie

most memorable quote: “If you don’t like it, you can put it where the monkey puts the nuts.”

Check out the trailer for Rock ‘N’ Roll High School

“I only wear this shirt to distract people from my face. It’s my only defense.”

On some undisclosed island in the South Pacific, Pam Grier plays Lee Danier, an angry hooker in an evening dress who gets sent to a not-so-classy women’s reform prison in the middle of the jungle. Do not pass “Go”, do not collect $200.  There’s also Karen, played by Margaret Markov,who has likewise earned herself some prison time, due to her nasty habit of trying to instigate revolutions on communist islands. But she looks more like she barely escaped her last photo shoot. Karen and Lee don’t play well together, especially in confined spaces. So when they misbehave in the cafeteria, they’re forced to stand in a walk-in Easy Bake Oven out in the sun for the day as punishment. Fortunately we’ve got a non-stick cooking Pam as our star. The wardens are fed-up with having to break-up their catfights, which cuts into their group shower ogling time. So they chain the two together; make them wear yellow, prison issued mini-skirts; and send them on a bus trip to be interrogated. The bus ride comes to a quick halt, though, when Karen’s rabble-rousing friends attack the convoy. We know they’re revolutionaries because of the amount of their facial hair. The longer your mustache, the more you’re fightin’ “The Man.”

Lee and Karen barely escape into the jungle during the poorly planned rescue attempt, and are forced to hitchhike as nuns across the island and negotiate with oily, fat guys before stabbing them with a screwdriver. They sure make Catholic school nuns almost look tame by comparison. A corrupt cop is sent to track the nuns on the run, but only if he can break away from watching the local drunks play pool long enough. There’re also some hired thugs who are looking for Lee since she is one their prized hookers–their “best in show ho.” They inconspicuously drive around in a giant, decorated, clown jeep, blaring Mexican show tunes, possibly hoping for some women prisoners to just suddenly dart out in front of them, but instead they end up in pointless gunfights or wrestling around in their underwear with the locals. Not quite sure who’re the good guys and bad guys in this one, but I do know that hired thugs look particularly disturbing in baby blue western shirts.

Wouldn’t you think that would hurt your street cred a bit if you wore a shirt like that? Ruben is the head thug with the worst fashion sense, played by Rob Zombie’s favorite psycho, Sid Hag. He reminds me a bit of a local used car salesman, but without the charm and trustworthiness. “Come on down to Ruben Ford–free drug bribes for the kids!”

This is a good little exploitation film, light on the exploitation but heavy on the facial hair and gunfights. Also check out Pam Grier in “Coffy”, another great early blaxploitation movie from the 70’s. She’s all Coffy…without the caffeine.

Roadside Attractions

-Peeping Tom wardens
-chain chockin’
-convincts in a can
-jungle cat fights
-nuns on the run
-jump-starting hookers
-gratuitous use of a western shirt
-puppies with underwear hats
-21 breasts
-37 deaths
-multiple shootouts
-circus mercenary jeeps
-tempera paint blood splatters

rated 7.7 out of 10 for the movie

Check out the trailer for Black Mamma, White Mamma

“Can we pull over? I think I caught a junebug in my teeth.“

I’ve recently starting go back to the local gym. Repetitive computer mouse movements and the occasional chair shifting aren’t burning the calories like I’d hope. Yes it’s time to lose that pizza gut that I’ve worked on so hard over these past several months. The countless hours sitting in front of a computer to perfect it’s shape and density, it’s truly like a work of art. Sure it hasn’t won me any awards in categories like “most likely to have grease in his veins” but I did get honorable mentions in “most likely to run over your grandma for a doughnut.” or the coveted “achievements in long range Girlscout cookie flavor identification.” I do have a lifetime membership to Fitness USA that I got back in 1997 on a dare and by lifetime apparently that means at some point in my life I plan to use it again so why not now. I figured out why I hate exercise so much…it’s work…and I do a lot of that already, hence the title “working out” but I will keep at it and continue to work those abs and glutify my glutes and perfect my pectorals. Whatever it takes so I don’t gasp for air in exhaustion from opening a jar of tomatoes.

William Smith, a life long body builder, plays a biker named Angel who knows what it takes to stay in shape. This former Marlboro man also knows how to keep a fake mustache attached to his upper lip precariously for long periods of time as evident in his starring role in the 1969’s biker movie “Run, Ange, Run.” A little known fact, Smith also holds the record for 5100 continuous sit ups over a 5 hour time frame barely beating out my record by 5000 or so. William usually plays a b-movie direct to video bad guy these days but finds himself early in his career in the uncomfortable role of a misunderstood sensitive bike type. Angel is hightailing it out of town with his favorite hooker/girlfriend/go-go dancer Laurie, played convincingly by Valerie Starrett. Ms. Starrett is actually the wife of the director Jack Starrett which must have made some of her love scenes a tad uncomfortable. Turns out all the bikers gangs are looking for Angel now since he sold them out for his story to “Like” Magazine for a whopping $10,000. Even in the late 60’s that amount shouldn’t have been enough to sell out your fellow riders but Angel isn’t the shiniest tool in the shed and thinks he’s struck the jackpot. He continually tries to get rid of Laurie a good 3 or 4 times before they even leave town, this despite her bailing him out jail by turning tricks in the parking lot the night before. Now that is true love. His bipolar medication was obviously left at home as he switches back and forth between sensitive Angel and homicidal “I’ll stick a fork in your eye” Angel, but that seems to only makes Laurie love him more.

Through a series of mind numbing motorcycle montages accompanied by the tunes of Tammy Wynette, Angel and Laurie evade the pursuing biker gangs confusing them with a stunt spectacular at a train station that would make Evil Knievel proud. No one under 18 will be admitted during the breath taking train jumping sequence. Narrowly escaping being raped by a gang of train hobo’s Laurie and Angel flee to an abandoned barn to pretend to be in school and to take a literal roll in the hay. I think people with hay fever wouldn’t even find that love scene stimulating. You can almost hear the director screaming “Get your damn filthy hands off my wife!!!” as William attempts his best to grope Valerie without actually touching, an impressive acting skill.

Angel and Laurie then decide to go house hunting and start a life together ala June Cleaver style fulfilling their redneck American dream of owning a beat down shed in the middle of nowhere. The film had taken a sharp nose dive at that point with scenes of them at their dinner table talking about their life and their dreams…then montages of them running on the beach and holding hands to the sounds of flute music…and…wait is this a Lifetime movie of the week? Did I accidentally stumble into a feminine hygiene commercial? What happened to the motorcycle gang that was about rip off his arm and beat him with it? Unfortunately they’re still back at a local bar starting up their own roadhouse dinner theater and picking bars fight with rejects from Docker pants commercials. Be sure to take note of the go-go dancer in the background who continues to dance while heads are getting smashed around her. You gotta love the 60’s for little gem moments like that.

Years, months, or days appear to be go by and Angel is now sans mustache, the ultimate sacrifice of a motorcyclists is shaving, and is now living the good life down on the farm. Angel teaches his neighbor, Dan Felton, to ride a motorcycle and in return Dan gives him a job in sheep dipping. Luckily that’s not as obscene as it sounds and Dan is thrilled to have a job dousing sheep in chemical flea baths for a honest day’s pay. He then starts spouting poetry about birds and freedom and at some point appears to want to cry! (Billy what is wrong with you? Shouldn’t you’ve beaten someone senseless by now?)

Dan’s daughter, Megan, decides to go hang out at a local bar and gets raped by that long lost biker gang I mentioned earlier as they finally learn of Angel’s whereabouts. If you throw enough coincidences in a film, things like that are bound to happen so Dan thinks Angel did it because Megan is now a mute and only screams at the sounds of revving motorcycles. Based on this overwhelming evidence Dan loads up his shotgun to go make mince meat out of Angel back at his shack. My dog barks at the sound of lawnmowers but I don’t shoot the nearest landscaper.

Angel who has been away in the city has returned from finally picking up his check and avoided the long wait at his mailbox. Things go sour from there when the motorcycle gang of four and a very angry Dan show up with shotgun in tow. It’s a rodeo-style showdown with some motorcycle wranglin’ and furniture tippin’ ending with lessons about life, love, and the evilness of greed. Yup ladies and gentlemen it’s a chick-flick.

I think if any lessons I learned from this movie is that… 1. $10,000 is not enough to rat out biker gangs or pay for a year of college. 2. motorcycle montages sung by Tammy Wynette are a great way to fight insomnia. 3. William Smith could crush most people using only his index finger and thumb.

As far as chick-flick/biker films from the late 60’s go this was pretty good. So go grab yourself a Harley and scare up some sheep with “Run, Angel, Run.”

Keep an eye out for….

- bar-room brawl with optional go-go dancers
- off key folk singing
- sheep dipping
- cackling rednecks
- hobo throwin’
- imprompto train jumping evil knievel style
- motorcycle montages
- hay rollin’
- bi-polar domesticated motorcyclist
- mustache wrangling
- chicken feeding
- motorcycle induced sheep stampedes
- babbling homeless Santa impersonators
- Tammy Wynette singing
- extreme facial hair

warning this movie is known to induce drowsiness. Do not operate heavy machinery while watching. If you have allergies to wool or hay we suggest you consult your doctor before viewing.

rated 7.9 out of 10 for the movie

Watch the trailer for Run, Angel, Run.

“The original Big Bird was actually a struggling pimp living on Sesame Street in Harlem“

Pam Grier plays Flower Child Coffin “Coffy”, a hospital nurse with a hippie name and a vengeful spirit which doesn’t really lend herself to a profession in bedside care. Her little sister got hooked on heroin and is a kids detox so she goes on a mission to find the dealers and anyone remotely related to the drug bosses that got her sister hooked. Blowing holes through drug dealers heads, junkies, shooting Italians in swimming pools, and stabbing goattee bodyguards in the neck. It’s all in nights work for a nurse. I think Coffy needs to ease up on the caffeine before she takes out a bus of nuns with a bazooka.

Meanwhile a cop friend of hers named Carter Brown decides not to go the corrupt route like the rest of the police force who has made a deal with mafia and drugs dealers. This results in him getting beaten like a piece of ground beef in his apartment by some masked henchman while Coffy is over visiting. Didn’t he watch Godfather? The mob doesn’t kindly to non-team players.

Coffy also has her own sugar daddy, Howard “the shrapnel tummy” Brunswick, a congressmen on the take along with the police force (eesh do they all get some sort of mobster group discount?) He’s been working back street deals to get a big cut of the drug profits and gain more control of the city. Coffy who is still on the trail of the drug dealers dresses up as a prostitute from Jamaica to try to get employed by a local big league Pimp who calls himself King George. His dressing attire makes no doubt of his occupation as any low flying planes in a dense fog could spot his bright yellow jump leisure suit for a safe landing. It’s sort of a super pimp outfit. Coffy easily passes the job interview using her “assets” and “references” and later that night switches out George’s heroin supply with some powdered sugar (in case George needs to make some laffy taffy.) Upon returning to a mobster dinner party where all the big league dealers are schmoozing she starts a cat fight with some of the other hookers. It’s all broken bottles, torn dresses, tossed salads, and stained cocktail gowns. She does some sweet kung-fu moves and ultimate fighting pile drivers on her hooker co-workers and even hides a straight razor in her afro causing some nasty paper cuts. An Italian Mobster named Petroni enjoys the super hooker smack down and wants Coffy to come over later to play hide the salami at his apartment. Coffy attempts to take him out via a stuffed animal with a .44 magnum in it but is caught by Petroni’s goons just before she can pop him right between the pepperonis.

When interrogated via some vicious indian burns she rats out that King George actually sent her as a hooker hit girl (everyone always blames the pimp). This results in King George getting forced into some imprompto speed boat rafting. Well excepts there’s no boat or raft, and he’s tied behind a car by his neck. Not a very popular outdoor sporting activity. There’s more double crossing, double barrel shoguns, and double D’s than you can count in this film.

After seeing Pam Grier in the film Jackie Brown, I knew she was one bad ass foxy mama (look out I’m breaking out my jive talk) So I was looking forward to seeing what is hailed as one of her best films. I definitely agree it’s a great grindhouse film filled with plenty of sex, violence and leisure suits. And doesn’t that pretty much sum up the 70’s? So definitely check it out. I ain’t talkin’ no jive turkey so can you dig my rap? My mama didn’t raise no fool….ugh.. sorry I can’t help myself.

Keep an eye out for…

- banana suit pimps
- sugar daddy politicians
- stuffed lions packing heat
- razor blade hair clips
- mobster bodyguards dressed as gay pirates
- extreme pimp dragging
- roadside neck stabbing
- bad Jamaican accents
- diner party cat fights
- hooker shotguns
- salad bowl body slams
- sugar shoot-ups
- lounge dinner strippers

Coffy is in no way endorsed by Juan Valdez or any of the coffee union members

rated 8.4 out of 10 for the movie

Check out the trailer for Coffy

“A battle with a clogged ketchup bottle ends tragically.“

I finally got a chance to test out the new movie rental feature in Apple’s iTunes with a not so quick download of the 1970’s vampire flick Count Yorga, Vampire. So right off the bat you immediately know whose the vampire, though I half expected Yorga to be a small green midget from the Dagobah planet. The Bulgarian Count Yorga played by Roger Perry is hanging out with some yuppies at a séance party to contact the dead mother of a frazzle nerved gal named Donna played by Donna Anders. Most of the guests had a bit too much peppermint schnapps and end up cracking jokes or in Donna’s case blood curdling screams. So the count hypnotizes her to calm her down and happens to slip in a subliminal command of doing whatever he says. An American vampire would be like “bring me a beer….turn on the football game”

A couple there, Paul and Erica, decide the party has really lost it’s steam (nothing brings down a party like a failed séance) and decide it’s time leave. Erica seems to think old Bulgarian guys are attractive and offers Yorga a lift home. Paul wants to puts the kibosh on that idea but Erica seems to wear the pants in that relationship and insists on it. So they take the count back to his creepy mansion completed with a demon hellhound and Torgo-like groundskeeper. After leaving they get stranded in some sort of flash thunderstorm trapping their Scooby Doo mystery van in a puddle of mud. Paul uses this seemingly desperate moment of survival for his own shagging needs with his girlfriend. After a night of van rocking and candle burning, Erica and Paul fall asleep. Their love making seemed to peek the interest of the noisiest cricket and frogs in the swamp just as the creepy Yorga attacks. He knocks out Paul who is on a pee break and attacks Erica for a quick midnight snack. A little known medical fact that when a guy is hit on the head while peeing it causes temporary amnesia hence why Paul can’t remember a thing of the attack the very next day.

Erica starts going all grey skinned and continues to lose blood as well as personality until she’s rushed to the doctor. Dr. Hayes prognosis is to get lots of rest and eat lots of steak as raw as possible. Yes it’s the 70’s…so eat steak, smoke and drive with no seat belts. Erica skips the steak and goes right for the pet cat instead just and Dr Hayes and Paul arrive home. Dr. Hayes as a man of science and reason makes the immediate leap she was bitten by a vampire. Can’t say I’d want a doctor who makes snap paranormal diagnostics. “That head cold you have…yeah that’s a demon trying to escape from your skull…we’re going to have to drill!”

Erica is kidnapped by Yorga to join his harem and get all the club benefits like sleeping in the basement on cold stone slabs and eating sewer rats. You can see why the ladies love the Yorga. So Paul and Dr. Hayes make a hap-hazzard plan to invade the castle at mid-day. They hit the snooze button a few too many times from their nap though and end up getting a late start to battle the undead. With no real combat skills and poorly constructed weapons of broom stakes, broken furniture and duct taped crucifixes things probably won’t go well for these Van Helsing wanna-be’s. But you’ll have to check it out yourself. A good b-movie that reminds me of vintage hammer horror films., a sort of modern take on vintage dracula. I say rent it but wear a turtle neck.

Keep an eye out for…

- vampire McLovin’
- séance shenanigans
- kitty snacks
- if the van’s a rockin’…yorga’s a knockin’
- vampires on a stick
- smoking jackets of the undead
- handyman backbreakers
- Bulgarian Bordellos

Vampires truly suck.

rated 7.5 out of 10 for the movie

Check out the trailer for Count Yorga, Vampire