There’re two certainties in life..death and taxes. And unless there’s itemizing going on in Hell, I suspect death is a bit less time-consuming. Yes, it’s tax season once again so that means it’s time to gather those crumpled receipts from the shoe boxes and try to remember how little money you had before you didn’t have any money. It’s kinda like you’re being forced to give a loan to that crazy uncle that says he needs the cash for groceries, but you know he’s just going to blow it at the race track, always betting on the horse with emphysema. Still you hope you might find a loophole somewhere and get some money back: “Could I actually write-off dog grooming?” “Is beer deductible?” “If I get my wife pregnant, can I claim the kid this year?” These are just some of the questions you might ask, but you can take comfort in knowing your cash will go to good use in the community. It will be invested in deserving projects such as the secret underground testing labs where they train monkeys how to open pickle jars. Large portions will go into technology investments like $12,000 coffee makers for Area 51, or eco-food preservation. Maybe they can finally fill in that big pothole they call the Grand Canyon with some of the money that’s left over. I’m counting my receipts and checking them twice because if the IRS Fairy ever does ever visit me at night, I want her to leave me a nice little tax return, and not pimp slap me and steal my wallet again.

Speaking of life-sucking vampires: Mathilda May may have induced many boys into puberty in the mid 80’s when she gallivanted around as a naked space vampire vixen in “Lifeforce.” A giant evil-looking space thistle is discovered in the tail of Haley’s Comet, and instead of just nuking it and asking questions later, a group of curious, dim-witted astronauts decide to go check it out. While inside they find a bunch of giant dead space bats floating around, and 3 naked people frozen in display cases. Is anyone in the crew mildly concerned for their safety yet? Nope. So they decide it’s an even better idea to haul the aliens back to Earth in their cargo hold.

Months later a rescue shuttle from Great Britain’s bustling space program is sent up to intercept the now adrift shuttle. Much to their horror they discover most of the crew burned beyond extra crispy. An apparent fondue party gone horribly wrong. Fortunately, the space nudists are still well preserved in their see-through tanning booths, and they swiftly get hauled down to London to be studied at a minimum security community college. Suffice to say alien shenanigans occur, as the formerly freeze-dried alien girl wakes up and starts making out with strangers, sucking out their lifeforce like soda through a straw. She then goes streaking through the hallways, distracting everyone with her space melons, only being confronted briefly by a security guard with the lure of a potato chip. No one can resist the fever for the flavor of a Pringles. Once free she goes on a London whirlwind hitchhikers tour of soul suck-i-tude, with her consciousness jumping around between bodies in an attempt to recharge her lifeforce batteries.

Meanwhile back in the lab, her first victim, now shrunk up like a used Capri Sun bag, gets up from the autopsy table and starts attacking the doctors to absorb their soul juice. Tom Carlsen (Steve Railsback), the only survivor of the doomed space crew, suddenly shows up back on Earth in a mercury escape capsule (he must have been stuck in traffic), and he’s debriefed by a NASA British agent, who learned that he has a psychic connection to the female alien. They decide to hypnotize him to learn of her whereabouts, because that’s what NASA does best. His unique powers give Tom a Google Earth street view of license plate #’s, and he soon learns she’s traveling with a poor sheep herder in a Volvo. It’s as if the DMV suddenly became omnipresent.

Along with a Special Air Service operative and a wormy little doctor named Professor Fallada, they track down the partially possessed people, using them as a sort of compass to her main squeeze, a balding British doctor played by Patrick Stewart. They decide to pimp slap around Captain Picard for a while, and then pump him full of more narcotics than are in Mark Maguire’s butt cheeks, thus trapping the alien’s consciousness in his body. On a flight back to London, the space chick escapes via some nasty nasal discharge, materializing in front of them, and then crop dusting the whole of downtown London with her space vampire electric mojo. Warning: Side effects of vampire mojo may include dizziness, vomiting, and turning into an undead zombie who sucks out human souls.

Your typical zombie plague occurs, putting London in a quarantined war zone, while Caine and Carlsen race to destroy the source, and try to stop the vampire ship that’s attracting souls like flies to a bug zapper. It all leads up to a big showdown in a citadel with naked vampire chick, a Conan sword, and a whole lotta cheap special effects.

Tobe Hooper, after his little stint with “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, decided to make this sci-fi/horror movie, and it never quite decides if it’s an alien film or zombie film. Maybe it’s just an excuse to have a lady walk around naked for a half hour. Either way it’s a win-win. Retroman Steve says check it out and remember, only store your vampires in official Gladware containers. They help avoid freezer burn and lock in freshness.

- Dead space bats
- Giant space thistles
- Soul powered light beacons
- Explodo vampire-zombies
- Freeze dried space bats
- Patrick Stewart pimp slappin’
- Extreme sinus drainage
- Multiple face suckings
- Multiple impalements
- Capri Sun soul bags
- Death by flare pistol

Rated 9.2 out of 10

Lost Highway is proud to partner with Crackle.com in providing you the ability to watch “Lifeforce” online for Free! Check out the link to launch the website and video.

If there’s one thing we at Lost Highway strive for is figuring out new ways to fill up mantel space. I blame that show “Trading Spaces.” I’ve found that I’ve really learned to “explored my space” with a mantel full of shruken heads I bought on Ebay and wind chimes made of old beer cans but now I can add something new. Yes, a Total Film Movie Blog Award for Best Cult Blog. Our plans for world domination through snarky reviews are slowly coming together…one blog award at a time. We’d like to thank Total Film Magazine for this honor and a big thanks to all our fans who voted for us. Well all except for you Wade. We never really liked you.

We have just been nominated by Total Film (a top-rated film magazine from the UK) for Best Cult Blog. This is a HUGE honor for everyone here at Lost Highway. Please show your support by clicking here and voting for Lost Highway in the Best Cult Blog category. You have until Sunday, January 25th to cast your vote. And to anyone out there who is on the fence about voting, rest assured your vote really will count this time. Thank you for your continued support.

I’ve always had a fascination with the drive-in culture and mythos. Those times of watching a great b-movie out under the stars and making that long walk to the snack shop for that buttery snack are some of my best  teenage memories. I’ve gathered quite a few books about their history so a few years back when I ran across a novel with the “Drive-in” in it’s title, I had to give it read. It’s described as a living B-movie where the patrons of a drive-in become characters in a b-movie and are being directed by some malevolent alien forces. That sounded like fun campy storytelling to me and even it’s book cover suggested a sort of “Hitchhiker’s Guide” silliness. Don’t be fooled. This book is dark, twisted and bleak. Blood cults, cannibalism and the worse of humanity take root as societal norms break down and the horrifying popcorn king begins it’s reign of terror. Lansdale’s descriptive storytelling and compelling characters made it’s somber outlook on society all that more visceral to me. I found myself more trying to endure it’s twisted story than be entertained by it. I even had to take a break and watch a sitcom just to have a warm fuzzy feeling again. Retroman Steve says check it out but you’ll likely never look at drive-in popcorn the same way again.

Did you ever hear the conspiracy theory that a small elite group of people are actually running all the world’s governments? A secret society dictating world trade and policy decisions from the confines of a undisclosed location deep inside a underground bunker? Well it’s obviously true because I read it on the Internet.

Consider the League of Tana Tea Drinkers the equivalent to this in the horror blogsphere. A secret society whose powerful members have no finger prints, greet each other with elaborate hand shakes and can speak in an ancient dialect. They are a small select group of the horror blogging elite, the crème de la crème, and by gosh they just went and picked a b-movie watchin’ redneck to join their club. Yes the rumors are true, Lost Highway has officially been invited into the fold and we’re happier than a tornado in a trailer park to be here. It’s a huge honor to be a part of this talented group of passionate writers who exemplify excellence in the genre and we look forward to contributing our own brand of creative commentary. Now if you excuse me I need to check the mailbox to see if my members only secret decoder ring has come in yet.

“Be sure to drink your Tana Tea”

Are you bummed because you are too old to go “trick-or-treating”? Or are you getting stressed out because you still don’t know who you are dressing up as for that Halloween party? Well, fear not folks, a little ghost just told me about a truly awesome promotion from Fright-Rags that should get you in the Halloween spirit and also solve your costume dilemma. Ben from Fright-Rags and his team are celebrating Halloween in a HUGE way! During the month of October customers who place an order will receive some truly “screamtastic” goodies like movies, action figures, and gift certificates just to name a few. So head on over to www.fright-rags.com for more info about prizes and this great giveaway!

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

Enter to win the official Lost Highway t-shirt and have your own b-movie survival tip on the back!

Do you remember where you were when man landed on the moon? When they brought down the Berlin Wall?  When MTV used to play actual music? Really…eesh how old are you anyways? Luckily now you can now be a part of history having your own twisted thoughts adorned on the official Lost Highway B-movie Survival t-shirt. A high quality Glidan shirt that’s soft and comfy and won’t easily fade like your memory is. Buy your piece of history here.

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

The results are in… After receiving and reviewing the submissions it is time to announce the winners. It was very difficult to select three winners out of all the entries because everybody came up with a variety of solutions to Ben’s hypothetical situation that were funny, clever and very creative. We would like to give a big thank you to everyone who entered the contest. And congratulate those of you whose submissions were selected. Below are the winning entries. The original scenario has been re-posted for your convenience. Enjoy!

Scenario:

After a hard day’s work at Fright Rags, Ben has just drifted off into a very sound REM sleep when all of a sudden he’s jolted awake by loud noises that sound like they’re coming from the storage area where the all the printed shirts are stored. Ben immediately springs out of bed, grabs a baseball bat, and cautiously goes to investigate the disturbance. As he makes his way toward the room, the strange sounds are getting even louder. When he reaches the storage area, an eerie blue light can be seen from underneath the door. Those unrecognizable noises now appear to be a series of growls and tortured groans, like something from a horror movie. Ben’s heart is really pounding now. He pauses for a few seconds to collect himself and then, after gathering up enough courage, he begins to slowly turn the door knob. Upon opening the door, Ben sees a truly shocking sight: all the characters from his printed T-shirts have somehow come to life. So, what do you think Ben should do?

Kim Smith

Thinking quickly and knowing he is highly outnumbered; Ben lobs his baseball bat at the throng of creatures. He misses them all, instead hitting a large, 80s style boom-box. Static crackles and the CD begins to play Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” The characters are amused by the irony of the situation and start dancing to the beat. Ben shrugs his shoulders. “If you can’t beat them, join them,” he thinks, falling into step. Ben and his new-found friends dance well into the night. That is, until a new song begins and the monsters turn on their creator.

Ben’s screams of terror cannot be heard over the wailing tones of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.”

Jason Crampton

“Holy Crap,” Ben says. “I should have made more shirts with good guys on them.” With all the chaos happening in the room, nobody seems to have taken notice of him just yet. Zombies fighting Jack Torrance fighting the Wolfman fighting The Thing fighting Ash—wait, “Ash!” Ben hopefully calls out.

Ash looks up from chainsawing the head off of a giant shark that was thrashing about in the corner, just in time to catch a pick axe to the face from Harry Warden. “Oops,” Ben mutters, and slowly lets his baseball bat slip from his fingers to clatter loudly on the floor. He has now gathered the attention of more than a dozen horrible monsters, and as they slowly inch closer to him, he can only think that Ash may have been his only hope. But then he hears the unmistakable sound of the M41 Assault Rifle from Aliens. “Bill Paxton!” Ben remembers. “I mean, Pvt. Hudson!” “Game over man!” Hudson yells as Cujo is mauling him.

“Game over!”

“Oh, right. Great.” Ben scans the room for anyone else who might be able to help him. No sign of the Brothers Frog, but then again, they were like twelve years old or something. Ben feels bad for dragging them into this mess. As Ben starts to accept his now inevitable fate, he can only hope that it will be quick, and not a slowly eaten kind of death. The unstoppable Jason Voorhees is at the head of the pack, and Ben starts to think a well placed machete to the brain might not be a bad way to go. Then he hears a chainsaw, and assumes it must be Leatherface. Wait. He thinks, I haven’t made a Leatherface shirt! Then, the blade of a chainsaw bursts from Voorhees’s chest, and he is tossed aside, to reveal a bloodied Ash. “Thank God I made two of you!” Ash gives him a quizzical look.

“Come again?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben says. “Let’s just get out of here.” Ash carves a path to the door, and they quickly shut it behind them. Ben trips on a severed arm that made it through the door. He falls, but when he lands, he’s not on the floor. He’s in his bed. A dream! He is relieved, but also a little disappointed that Ash isn’t in his house. He decides to prepare for the future, and heads straight to the drawing board to create even more Ash shirts. An Army of Ash’s!

Jim Tomarchio

Ben bursts into the room and proclaims “NOT TODAY!” He then rushes towards the various horror characters who are now growling, snarling, and poised to attack him. Ben started to flail his baseball bat at the monsters and other various creatures in an insane and violent manner then very quickly stopped. He realized they were not attacking him, nor doing any damage to his AMAZING printed shirts. Ben blurted out “What are you doing here!?” The monsters then turned and pointed. Simultaneously they roared… “BEER!”

Ten minutes later, Ben and his horde of horrific creature friends were all seated around a table laughing and cracking jokes on each other. The characters from his shirts had to go back to the stellar shirts from which they came and with them they took beer, new jokes and a box of fabric softener.