On This Episode of AAARG MY FUCKING EYES...

We take a look at a movie that you've probably never heard of, because to subject yourself to it would be like stealing a Delorian and going to the 80's. On purpose.

And of course, the warning: May contain spoilers, blah blah blah. May also make you want to tease your hair up big and pretend your Blondie again. I know your secrets. We all sang into our hairbrushes then.

Mad Jester: So yeah, took me three tries to watch that sonofabitch. First time, I got to "Hey hey, we're the MUNCHIES!" and my brain just recoiled and refused to do anything until I promised it some Disney cartoons.

Kweeny Todd: *cackles* I know! It took me two tries, and for days I avoided it like I was getting a root canal. Alright...let's get this shit cake cooked eh?

MJ: Indeed- it's stinkin' up the kitchen.

KT: It's been a while since we've done one of these.

MJ: This is true. It takes a while to find movies terrible enough to be worthy of the feature. Also, it takes extended rest and a strict regimen of alcohol and cartoons to heal up between viewings.

KT: *chuckles* Yup, and this time you might have outdone yourself MJ. Tell the viewers what horrible piece of 80's crap you found for us today.

MJ: Oh gods... so 80s. Well, this time out we subjected ourselves to 1987's Munchies, starring Harvey Korman, Charlie Stratton, Nadine Van Der Velde and some very belligerent foam rubber. This film 80ses at you so hard you'll begin expecting Corey Feldman to Crane-kick someone in the face, but nothing so entertaining occurs.

KT: It did! I could almost feel my neon tights returning, and my hair getting bigger. If I hear another person call a girl a "Happening Chick" I might have to have a psychotic break.

MJ: But what else can one say about a lady as hip and with-it as our girl Cindy? I mean, that tight-jeans-and-enormous-baggy-pastel-shirt combo's enough to make any man weep into his Flock of Seagulls haircut!

KT: *chuckles* I know. but let's talk about the Munchies themselves for a minute. What the shit where they? They looked like low-budget Gremlins meets the Critters! How can you fuck that up?

MJ: I don't know, but by Q-bert they found a way. Funny you should mention the Munchies looking like low-budget Gremlins, though; the director of Munchies, one Tina Hirsch, was the editor on Gremlins, and obviously derived some... er, shall we say, 'inspiration' therefrom? Like, so much inspiration that I'm amazed Amblin weren't inspired to sue.

KT: I don't know if you can call that inspiration. That's like saying vomit is the inspiration for eating.

MJ: With just as appealing an end product, really. (Doubtless copious amounts of tequila were involved, as well.) At least Billy Peltzer's dad didn't drag him down to Peru to obtain the pet that ruined Billy's life.

KT: Right? The father in this movie annoyed the fuck out of me. Thanks for being a supportive dad! Blackmail always makes me wanna follow authority figures.

MJ: Seriously! "You're not funny enough to follow your dream of being a comic, so put on this tinfoil hat and help me prove the existence of alien ruins at Machu Picchu!" I mean, sure, Paul wasn't THAT funny, but he tried, and I'll take 'struggling comedian' over 'catfood conoisseur and owner of several stylish aluminum chapeaus' any day.



KT: *laughs* Ah the hypocrisy of parents! At least that scene was kind of relatable. And the 80's backdrop I am still trying to forget parts of. Everything else...I'm still scratching my head over.

MJ: Like how the sherriff left his incompetent teenage son in charge of law enforcement while he was away at a convention?

KT: Oh man, that guy! He was a nut bar and the most useless character in the whole film! WORST COP EVER.

MJ: Yeah. At least his dad got busy with Melvis while Cecil's back was turned- all Little Eddie was good for was wasting ammunition, skeeving Cindy out and providing the Munchies something to chew on while Cindy and Paul got away. Some people can simply aspire no higher in life than 'chew toy'.

KT: It's true. And the Munchies prove they will eat anything. And why the hell do people do the things others tell them NOT to do? "Don't cut them they multiply..." So of course the idiots CUT THEM UP.

Damn it if I was in a horror movie I'd just feed the stupid people to the Munchies.

MJ: Well, in every horror movie there's one or two characters who think they're smart enough to safely ignore the mythology. This movie's just different in that that role is filled by ALL THE CHARACTERS. Well, except Paul & Cindy, and they're stupid for going to anyone for help.

KT: YES. I almost had hope for them, but the pair kept trying to get everyone to help them. JUST KILL THE MUNCHIES YOURSELF PAUL! I mean he figured out how they die in the end anyhow. I must admit, the electricity thing was a nice touch.

MJ: Yeah, you have to give your unkillable murder-puppets a way to be defeated, and the whole 'fire of the gods' angle is actually a fair bit cooler than Billy "Shove the Little Bastards into a Wood-Chipper" Peltzer anyway.

KT: Agreed. I enjoyed that they turned to stone afterwards and were able to be smashed into bits. That was neat. Friggen Billy though...

MJ: Stone's a lot cheaper & easier to work with than fake blood and mangled rubber, too, so I doubt the decision was an artistic or aesthetic one so much as convenient happenstance. But it is, at least, in keeping with the mythos. Looking at you, Mr. Krishna "I'm-a Change What My Monsters Are Halfway Through the Film" Shah!

KT: True. I did however think the tone of the film was all over the place. Was it a horror movie or a comedy or just something mangled from my drunk brain when I try to remember the 80's?

MJ: I think it was trying to be a horror-comedy, like (the real) Gremlins, Beetlejuice, or The Monster Squad. Unfortunately, as opposed to the directors of those movies- who paint strokes of comedy to break up the monotone of horror- Hirsch just slaps a thick layer of one on top of the other, resulting in a wide stripe of Taco-Bell-the-night-before brown.

KT: *nods* It was hard to watch honestly. If I didn't have pumpkin cider to drink I don't know if I could have gotten through it. Thank the Underworld it's October.

MJ: *laughs* If I'd had anything to drink, I'd have had to watch it more than the twice I did! I kept falling asleep- not even Harvey Korman could render that shitball shiny! Oh gods, I actually woke up whimpering this morning!

KT: *cackles* I wanted to do anything but watch this. I was even willing to clean my house. Well, other than what we've already said, there isn't much more to this movie. It's pretty forgettable honestly. Would you torture another living soul with it other than me Mad Jester?

MJ: I might recommend this to a masochist like us- someone who relishes their ability to survive such cinematic suckstorms. It'd be great for Bad Movie Night, just getting 'faced with one's friends and ripping into it. But for people of taste and discernment? Gods no. Rewatch Gremlins 2- Robert Picardo's in that one, too, and it won't hurt so bad.

KT:  Well then, I doubt there is anything more that can be said, so let's shock this thing with lightening and call it a day. What do you say MJ?

MJ: Nah, let's get out of here before I punch someone's tennis shoes by way of vengeance against rubber.

KT: Good idea. I have better things to do...like watch more horror movies and eat pumpkin everything. Happy Halloween readers! Stay tuned for more Countdown madness! 

MMM day 03: The Episode Of Aaaarg My Fucking Eyes...

Is brought to you by all the times your bed was really lumpy and you couldn't sleep for the LIFE of you...

And of course, the warning: May contain spoilers, blah blah blah. May also make you want to get drunk on wine and eat strange things like fried chicken, apples and people! 

MJ: Welp, there's an hour and a half of my life I'm never getting back.

 KT: *laughs* same here. Holy crap, trying to keep my eyes open was a chore. I felt like I was torturing myself.

MJ: You were, Kweeny, you were. Even by 1977 standards, the pacing was sheer agony. Nothing could be done without at least ten seconds worth of establishing shot, and nobody moved with any more urgency than "Hmm, I should probably hit the bathroom before lunch" speed.

 KT: Good thing I have sharp things lying around to stab myself with. That's what kept me going. 

 MJ: Oh, I took my life into my own hands! I watched the whole movie... while stretched out in bed! *shiver* 

 KT: OH NOES! Are your limbs still in tact? Because apparently if the demon bed eats your fingers down to the bone, it only hurts a little.

Well, at least I don't have fat fingers anymore...

 MJ: Certainly not enough to scream, according to Brother Stumpy (apparently played by Robert Plant's halfwit younger brother). But yeah, a quick check confirms that both arms and all three legs are intact.

 
 KT: Good. So before we get too ahead of ourselves, tell the readers what movie we just tortured ourselves with...

MJ: Right. Today's platter of poop, today's serving of stool, comes in the form of 1977's Death Bed: the Bed that Eats. It's a premise I couldn't come up with if the local police let me do all the drugs in their evidence locker at once, and writer/director/producer/horrible human being George Barry still managed to make it both painful and boring.

 KT: Extremely painful and boring. I think he thought he was trying to make the film look stylish, but honestly even on shrooms you'd fall asleep.

MJ: On shrooms, the walls provide a much better story, and the salt & pepper shaker turn in much better acting performances. Of course, after Taco Bell and Old Milwaukee, your bowels will also turn in a better script.

 KT: *nods* So help me understand this ass-blaster of a film okay? Is the story about a bed that was awoken by demon tears because the demon screwed some bimbo to death? Or is the demon trapped in the bed? And why the hell was it so hungry? And why do I want to drink myself stupid while eating apples and fried chicken? What about the dude in the walls? WTF was his deal? Why was he out of ALL the people eaten, trapped with the bed?

I think I fell asleep too much... 

 MJ: Ah, him! The script lists him as The Artist, but I called him Wallgoth "Hamlet" von Clownstick, Distant Ancestor of Donald Trump. He was apparently the most interesting person the bed ever ate, which just goes to show you.

The Tortured Artiste

 KT: Interesting huh? That's why I have stab marks up and down my arms to keep me awake. He's "The Artist"... how pretentious is that? You know who he reminded me of? Too many snobby older goths in clubs. The "Elder Goths." They think they are artists too. Because wearing thick eye liner and multiple rings on your fingers makes you a super ARTISTE.

 MJ: Exactly. Well, then again, judging by the rather disinterested faces of the other victims, and the drunken-sorority-girl sex-sounds people were making- instead of screaming- while being eaten, one can only assume that these were some supremely boring people. Nobody seemed able to muster more of a reaction than is generally reserved for finding a hornet in one's garage. 

KT: Agreed. I mean one dude's hands were eaten down to the bone. TO THE FRICKEN BONE! He didn't scream a bit! Not even a pained face. He looked like he was sad he couldn't get it up anymore with his hands, but that was the only reaction we got!

And MJ, I know people who would scream at finding a hornet. 

 MJ: True enough. It would freak me out pretty bad, too, but these folks were reacting like their bus was late.

And then there was Sharon, our... survivor-girl...? She WATCHED one friend get eaten, deduced that the other one was as well, and decides to valiantly sit in the corner and have a nap. 

 KT: Seriously. I know Pretentious-Artiste-Dude tried to play if off that she was in shock, but I have seen people in shock. She didn't even have a cold sweat on her brow.

 MJ: Yeah. That was not a "My friends are DEAD!" face, that was a "Oops, we're out of peanut butter" face.

Also, did you know that a human body being eaten makes the exact same sounds as someone eating an apple? And that the sound of blood bubbling out of the ground sounds EXACTLY like George Barry's bong?

KT: *laughs* I have learned many things today my friend! Many horrible, stupid things! Like demons love fucking their girlfriends on special beds. And they cry like wusses when rejected. They cry so hard their eye balls break like glass. 

 MJ:And then they go off to spend a couple centuries pouting in a tree. And only sleep once every ten years, because plot convenience. I think this thing's a demon in the same sense that Edward Cullen's a 'vampire'- which is to say, watered-down wussy-ass version designed to push a ridiculous weak plot. 

 KT: Heh, exactly. I'm still confused as to what the bed's powers really where. I knew it could eat shit with it's weird bile-acid stuff, but it could destroy the house too? What did it eat the foundations?
 MJ: Apparently when it's got its shit together, it's telekinetic, which does make it an iota less embarrassing to be eaten by a BED. Seriously, if the sum total of a successful defense plan can be written as "roll over", you need to rethink your monster. Also, stop writing movies. 

KT: Don't worry, I think he did stop making movies after this one.

 MJ: Yep. IMDB confirms that Death Bed was Barry's first-and-last foray into filmmaking- for which the world breathes a collective sigh of relief- but this eye-herpes still gives him a place in Filmmaker Hell wiping Ed Wood's ass and keeping Uwe Boll's throne warm until he arrives.

 KT: Ugh... I really could not have thought up a plot so stupid even if I was sniffing glue. I mean a bed that eats people could be an awesome B movie! It could be funny as hell, but this was art house tripe!

That dastardly bed poured a can of red paint on my legs! I will never walk again!

 MJ: Now that you mention it, yeah- it kinda felt like it was trying to be arty, but fell well short of surreal and landed in the territory inhabited by indigestion-dreams. Tried to be Sauvignon Blanc, ended up Thunderbird.
 KT: *nods* Exactly my point. Even artsy movies have better acting, direction, story boarding, set design...even if they are weird as shit. 

Do you think we've beaten this Death Bed to death? Because I need some fried chicken, apples and booze.

Apples! My favorite! NOM NOM NOM...

 MJ: Yeah- I liked Antichrist, that Willem Dafoe movie with the dead fox, for example, and that was arty as fuck.

Ahh, fried chicken, apples and booze- the preferred appetizer of carnivorous furniture the world over. Nah, I think we've milked this pimple for all it's worth. I'll simply leave our readers with a warning:
If you leave a piece of food on your bed, look away, and it's gone when you turn back- and you don't have any pets?

Leave the house- it's about to get tedious in there. 

KT: *smirks* Wise words to live by. Thank you readers for joining Mad Jester and I, and I hope you are enjoying the May Monster Madness! See you tomorrow gang for more!

Creepmas Day 6: This Episode of Aaaarg My Fucking Eyes...

Is brought to you by all those annoying gifts you never really wanted, and now have to return but you lost the receipt!

And of course, the warning: May contain spoilers, blah blah blah. May also put you to sleep faster than watching paint dry! Today's pile of dung is...

  

Kweeny Todd: Important question time: Did your eyes fall out? Mine threatened to explode from my skull. Or maybe that was Sweeney punching them from inside again...

 Mad Jester: *laughs* Quite against their wishes, they remain rooted in my sockets. I swear, I've NEVER been so bored watching pretty women dance provocatively.

KT: I know right? Naked ladies everywhere and not a plot to be found.

MJ: There's a plot, it's just buried under 4 metric tons of hot cheese and styrofoam peanuts.

KT: *cackles* Well before we get too deep into this reindeer-shit-pie, please explain to the readers the piece of dick-cheese you forced me to watch with you.

MJ: *chuckles evilly* You asked for the poopy, the Jester brings the poopy. This time, we're serving up a heapin' helping of heave-worthy holiday ham, in the form of 1996's Santa Claws. Damn me and my talent for locating schlock.

 KT: You do have a talent for it. It almost surpasses my own. I applaud you for your endeavors. *slow claps and takes a swig of Kraken rum to wash the pain down with* Aright so...um where do we begin? Because holy hell this thing is BAD.

 MJ: It is, as you say, a 16-ounce glass of dook-nog. There's so much to choose from! For example, the pacing is... just... AGONY. Sure, John Russo gives us some very nice cheesecake scenes, but EVERY LAST ONE of them is held- and repeated- way too much. The cheesecake is milked so hard, I'm amazed there weren't bruises on all the titties.

KT: *cackles* I swear the majority of this film is naked ladies posing provocatively for the camera. It's like the movie isn't quite sure what it wants to be. It starts off as a tale about a kid who kills his mom and uncle/step dad at Christmas time, then goes right into this cheesecake horror mag thing... By the way: WHO SLEEPS WITH A DEAD GUY'S BROTHER? No wonder the kid kills her!

MJ: That is pretty fucking gross. I don't know, maybe they thought they could inject the film with some second-hand credibility if they included the central plot of Hamlet.

 KT: Well they failed. Badly. This is so far from Shakespeare. It's on planet SUCK. So yeah, the idea for this magazine that the viewers are suddenly supposed to care about is called SCREAM QUEENS. They neither scream or act like queens. It's just really an excuse to make them strip for horror fans. *grumbles* Like that's the only thing we like or want in our horror.

OMG Boobs! 

MJ: Exactly! It's like Russo and Michelucci were sitting there, thinking of how to get a feature-length movie out of the half-hour of (disjointed, hammy) acting they got... then, in a flash of inspiration, put down the coke spoon, looked at each other and simultaneously shouted "TITS!" And then picked the spoon back up and ripped through a half-ounce.

 KT: *nods* Pretty much what I was thinking. I think if I could give it a rough estimate, 22 minutes of this 1 hour and 22 minute film is actual story. The rest: TITS. Tits as far as the eye can see....But hey! They are festively dressed!

MJ: Oh, indeed. Red-and-green-bedecked, jingle-bell-festooned, mistletoe-draped tits, popping out faster than the windows of an Advent calendar bought on December 23rd.

KT: Mmm, chocolate Advent Calenders...*coughs and wipes the drool away* Anyhow, the tits are a big chunk of the film, which is why we are going on about it. I mean, there really isn't much else to this film! There is a weak plot, shitty acting, bad camera-work...I mean Lloyd Kaufman makes better shlock films and he has tits everywhere! He just doesn't spend the majority of his movie focused on them! Was this film made by a pre-pubescent boy?

MJ: Naaah, prepubescent boys have much more sexual maturity. Kaufman makes his schlock with LOVE- everyone goes in knowing they're making campy, fun doodoo, and the fun they have making the films is felt by us, the viewing audience. This film has all the fun and heart of a hungover grudge-fuck, and leaves you feeling twice as dirty.

KT: Indeed. I felt really dirty watching it, and horribly bored. I don't even think drinking more would have helped make the people less wooden and the plot less empty. This movie is the horror equivalent of getting a box of socks with naked ladies on them for Christmas. Sure, you got naked ladies...but it's still a pair of boring socks!

MJ: And socks are only sexy for the ten seconds or so you're making love to them. *ahem* Er, I mean yeah, socks suck! Now leaving Tits-a-palooza aside, let's look at the part that's supposed to be 'horror'. Now, watching Wayne, was I alone in getting less of a 'seriously disturbed killer' vibe, and more of a 'mentally challenged Sesame Street connoisseur' one? 'Cuz he struck me as the less-intimidating brother of Jobe from Lawnmower Man.

Friends always talk to each other like they are gonna make out! 

KT: Oooh man! I so agree. And why was Raven friends with him? WHO IS THAT FRIGGEN FRIENDLY WITH THEIR FANS? Especially a guy who looks like he might crap his pants at any moment because he can't control his bodily functions! And she leaves him with her kids!

MJ: "Sure, creepy weasel-faced special-needs person from across the street who's constantly peeking at my chest when he thinks I'm not looking, you can watch my daughters (Sa-VAWNa and AWN-drea) while I'm at work! Try not to yank off in my panty drawer while I'm gone!"

 KT: *shakes her head* Raven's husband is a piece of work too! Was I supposed to care they were on the verge of a divorce? Because to me Raven was being a needy, whining bimbo while Mr.Raven was fucking some uglier girl during a photo shoot. Why must women be treated like empty tit slates? 

MJ: Oh come on, now. You know you're only there to catch our semen and further our ambitions. But you're right, her husband is... wow. Dad of the Year. Doesn't even have the decency to tell his WIFE that there's something wrong in their marriage, choosing instead to disclose it to the woman he's fucking on the side. And that only works if you're banging your psychiatrist.

KT: It really is pathetic. Like this movie is a testament to everything you don't want to see in horror. Even the special effects are weak! Who KILLS people with a garden rake? I think that's what that stupid thing was. It's not even sharp! That's right...GARDEN THEIR FACES OFF EVIL SANTA!

All I wanna do is make love to you...and RAKE YOUR FACE!

 MJ: It's called a hand cultivator, and it is approximately as dangerous as a bowl of cold spaghetti. It's blunt, it's unwieldy, and it would take the upper-body strength of a roid-raging silverback lowland gorilla to actually use it as a slashing weapon. And the blood? Are you goddamn KIDDING? They make a POINT IN THE MOVIE to say that movie-blood is nothing more than corn syrup and red food colouring, and then use it so sparingly that it looks like puncture-wounds were drawn on with a red Sharpie.

 
Maybe they shot their budget on that SUPER-AWESOME score. Never have bodies been buried to such grossly inappropriate music.

Oh noes! He's got me in a choker hold!

KT: I know! Who dies from a few little puncture wounds to the face? And oh man, that music! So dead on there buddy! That music was HORRIBLE. And did they play that Scream Queen song twice? It sure felt like it. Probably because that scene of her stripping went on FOREVER. That Scream Queen song sounded like an attempt at 80's hair metal.

 MJ: They played it three times. I kept count. And that's exactly what it was- it was so glam-rock I was expecting David Lee Roth to let out a "WOO-HOO-HOO!" in the middle of it. On the upshot, the vocalist sounded a bit like Lee Aaron, and Lee Aaron is amazing. But then HEY LOOK RAVEN'S STILL DANCING, YOU GUYS, and then I want to beat my head against a stucco wall until I can taste bone-dust.

 KT: Lee Aaron is pretty cool. But yeah, three times...damn I was so brain dead watching this even zombies wouldn't find anything tasty to eat off me. The movie sucked my will to live away. And I wasn't drooling because of the tits. And you know I like tits! I even own a pair of my own! Doesn't mean I want to watch a boring film focused on them! Ugh have we beaten this movie to a pulp enough? Or do you still got your shit kicking boots on?

MJ: *chuckles* No, I want to drink until this movie is nothing more than a throbbing ache in my head and a mouth that tastes like the bottom of a birdcage. Any more time spent on it, and I'm going Amish so I don't have to watch bad movies anymore. I will raise barns, play the fiddle and live on root vegetables and cocaine.

KT: Hey! Don't give up on me solider! I'm not watching these crap movies alone! You signed away your soul long ago to me, so now you owe me buddy! *pats Jester on the back* But tonight, you can rest. I will allow it.

MJ: *grumbles and plunks down with a bottle of Cuervo Gold and a crazy-straw* One of these days, you're gonna take that amulet off. Then we'll see what's what.

 KT: Why would I do that? So I can suffer these painful headaches alone? *strokes chin* Though I wonder, if I remove the amulet, will Sweeney go away? Because then I might finally get some sleep. *looks down at Jester* Do you know what it's like to have a singing demon barber in your head?

 MJ: *laughs* Pal-o-mine, I've got stuff in here that makes it look like Cirque su Soleil had a kid with House of 1000 Corpses. All the more reason to drink, say I. *takes a long pull through the straw*

KT: *puts her own crazy straw beside MJ's in the bottle* It's time for us to drink ourselves into oblivion, so thank you guys for reading! Hope you enjoyed watching us torture ourselves as much as we...hmm...I don't think we enjoyed ourselves. Especially with this movie...

MJ: Seriously. It made me think I was becoming bored with tits, and that's a frightening prospect. (Say, now, maybe THAT'S where the horror is!) Anyway- so long, gorecrows, and thanks for the read!
KT: FEAR THE HAND CULTIVATOR and Merry Creepmas! 

I'm a KILLER!