This is what I have to worry about on a daily basis, kind of, I suppose.
Now this might come as a shock and surprise to you, but we here at Something Awful have very poor taste in just about everything. You can name virtually anything and the chances are superb that we're uncultured and ignorant of it; the only thing Zack "Ghost Emitter" Parsons knows about is World War II, all Emily "Integral" Reigel is familiar with is analyzing fake TV doctors, and I don't think either Livestock or Greasy have any knowledge of anything that has ever or will ever happen. I'm undoubtedly the worst off of the SA crew, as I have the wonderful combination of being intensely stupid and also generating enough stomach acid to regularly burn cigarette-sized holes straight through my chest, causing it to gush forth and burn through the shoes of people at the bus stop. I often find myself at the receiving end of baffling and uncomfortable questions which make me question my will to live, as shown in the following actual conversation which kind of might have kind of happened in an alternate dimension that's much like ours except it has slight differences that make viewers say, "wow, what a crazy concept, I wonder what the US would be like if, instead of George W. Bush Jr. III Esq. Inc., we had elected a robotic, flesh-eating donkey!":
ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING ON EARTH: "Hello sir, how are you?"
ME: "Uhhh..." (rivers of sweat begin to flow from every pore in body, soaking through my shirt and leaving a slug-like trail on the ground)
ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING ON EARTH: "Are you okay, sir?"
ME: "Uhhh..." (stomach acid boils up and dissolves lungs quicker than a Necco Wafer in a pit of lava)
ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING ON EARTH: "Hello? Hello? Are you still alive?"
ME: "Uhhh..." (passes out and collapses onto the ground)
ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING ON EARTH: "Sir?"
EMILY "INTEGRAL" REIGEL: "It's okay, he always has these kinds of Sudden Death Attacks when he has to deal with any other human being on Earth. We'll just use my Blockbuster card instead of his."
As you can see, I receive a fair amount of stress when renting movies. This is due to the fact that no matter what movie I try to rent, it will intentionally or unintentionally be horrible. I don't blame this on the movie makers or directors out there, as I'm positively sure that there's some CIA conspiracy forcing Blockbuster employees to give me DVDs secretly labeled "ASS MOVIE: GIVE ONLY TO RICH 'LOWTAX' KYANKA. DO NOT ALLOW CONTACT WITH HUMAN SKIN." I'll let this theory work itself out next time I go in to rent "What's Up, Tiger Lilly?" and I'm given a disc with 90 minutes of some Mexican guy talking to his wristwatch while his mother repeatedly beats a carpet in the background. In the meantime I will provide you, the test subjects, with a series of mini-reviews detailing the horrible B-movies I've accidentally viewed recently. I hope this will provide you with a new cultural experience that will enlighten and enthrall you like the time you saw Santa Claus parachute into Shea Stadium and then give all the Jewish children Kwanzaa gifts.
Mr. Ice Cream Man
Overview: Not to be confused with the wonderful "Ice Cream Man" flick starring Ron Howard's ugly, untalented, mutant brother Clint, "Mr. Ice Cream Man" is a bright shining star of its own. Please note that sometimes stars shine brightly because they're exploding. A deadly ice cream man is chased by a not-so-deadly Police officer whose solution to solving crimes involves blowing a neon orange whistle and waving his arms like an epileptic on a power grid. Although we really don't want to ruin the ending for you, Mr. Ice Cream man turns out to be the father of a young brother and sister! No really, it even says so in the movie description. Most of this film seems to have been recorded on a digital camera stolen from the lobby of a nearby Wal-Mart. I would assume this gives us grounds to sue Wal-Mart for criminal negligence.
Review: I loved "Mr. Ice Cream Man," mainly for the fact that it proved retarded children can make movies and achieve stunning failure just the rest of us. This is one of those films that clueless parents rent for their children, thinking that perhaps they can scare them into heterosexuality or Jesus or whatever, but it just ends up putting the entire family into a deep, deep coma at which point the movie's director breaks in and steals their jewelry. I'm all for this kind of proactive filming and believe that "Mr. Ice Cream Man" accomplishes many similar goals, such as the successful removal of the viewer's will to live. All in all, I can't find myself impartial towards a movie which features a chubby black kid tripping and falling down from approximately 19 different angles, so I'm going to have to give "Mr. Ice Cream Man" my enthusiastic Seal of Approval, which can also be found on some of the best Denny's restrooms across America.
Score: Two thumbs up (out of 10 fingers total).
Overview: A one-million year old bankrupt farmer and his one-million pound inbred son go on a killing spree and rack up approximately half the state in under 30 minutes. As for exactly what state that is, I'm not sure, as it obviously takes place in Arkansas or some other ungodly state that nobody should ever visit except possibly due to incarceration, yet the Police officers wear patches for Los Angeles County. Perhaps this takes place in Los Angeles, Arkansas. Regardless, the mutant pig-son really picks up the slack from previous horror films that didn't feature enough corpses to be considered a legit documentary on Hitler, genocide, or the rise to fame of Jack In the Box.
Review: If you ever wanted to see every 1980's slasher film compressed into one meaty wad, "Slaughterhouse" is the film for you. Then again, if you're stark raving idiot who enjoys lighting your money on fire and throwing it into the bushes, I would also claim "Slaughterhouse" is the film for you. Now that I think about it, there are many people out there that I think "Slaughterhouse" is the perfect movie for. This list includes my fourth grade teacher who confiscated my Garbage Pail Kids cards, the guy in front of me on the I-5 yesterday who insisted on traveling at approximately 19 miles an hour, and the entity responsible for damaging my brain so much that I thought renting "Slaughterhouse" would be a decent idea. This movie has every critical element of the 80's gore-bucket film genre: clueless teenagers who consider spending Friday nights in an abandoned hog-splitting factory to be "good fun," idiotic police officers whose sole purpose is to drop their gun when stabbed with a meathook, and the overwhelming notion that the south is full of horribly scary people who should probably be eliminated through the same chemical leak responsible for producing them. In addition to those tantalizing bits of moviemaking magic, this film also comes with roughly 15 minutes of public domain stock footage from a slaughterhouse. See? Because it's a slaughterhouse and all. I don't blame you if you can't see the connection here; it took me a few hours to establish it as well, and I'm like the smartest man currently within a 15-inch radius of myself.
Score: 9 (out of X stars).
Overview: Joe Esteves, the uncle of various Sheens and Esteveseseseses, makes his cinematic debut as a cranky father who tortures his son by forcing him to play baseball. He later on decides to get killed and return as a ghost or a demon or an optical illusion or something, causing his son to grow up and become a 48-year old minor league catcher who, despite a .101 batting average, has managed to stay on the team for something like 28 years. After some footage of a little league baseball team plays in a loop, the catcher is thrown off the team for his horrible performance in both catching and acting. He goes on a murderous rampage, killing his teammates with duct tape and homosexual death rape. Can anybody stop the murderous catcher from making all his ex-teammates "catch" a severe case of the "being deads?" I'll be damned if I know, as we turned off this movie like 40 minutes into it. I assume somebody murdered him, hopefully in a way as brutal as his acting career, dreams, and lifelong aspirations were killed in this movie.
Review: I suppose "The Catcher" got off to a bad start when it threw out all its offensive weapons at once (the first ten minutes with Joe Esteves) and later ran out of steam (everything else afterwards). David Heavener, who plays the starring role of the aforementioned catcher, looks like a puffy, deceased, bloated Lyle Alzado without the charisma and charm of such an animated corpse. This movie has many inexplicable twists and turns that make absolutely no sense and do nothing to further the complex and highly intriguing plot of "murdering a lot of people," mostly because I assume this movie was written as it was filmed (or vice versa). For example, why does the coach of a minor league team do nothing except walk around a dark building holding a clipboard? Why is the stock footage of the minor league game composed of klutzy 16 year olds, yet the actors in the movie are at least in their early 40's and undoubtedly stricken with some form of cancer? What the fuck is the "RBI Virus" and why did The Catcher upload it to the coach's computer? Better yet, why the fuck was she running DOS in the year 2000? Was it "MS-DOS 2000, Catcher's Edition?" Even better yet, how does somebody get duct taped to the ground and murdered by having a fat guy slide into their head? How does this work? Do I live in some alternate dimension or does this movie? If I'm the person living in the alternate dimension, is there any way I can switch dimensions to one less gassy? These are just a few of the many questions "The Catcher" left me hanging with, in addition to "why are these people given permission to live?" and "why would I go to jail if I killed them?" I mean, seriously, if the jury was forced to sit through this movie, I would probably never be convicted of anything my whole life; it'd be like some kind of automatic diplomatic immunity passport.
Score: 21 Crunchy Wigs (out of 3892 jillion bazillion).
Da Hip Hop Witch
Overview: There's not much that can be said about a movie with the official tagline of "Eminem & 5 white kids from the suburbs get lost in Da Hood!!!" I mean, you can look for a greater overview and some kind of grandiose description, but folks, that sentence sums it all up in its entirety. After having viewed this movie and read (most of) the tagline, I can safely assure you that simply reading the above line is an exponentially less painful chore than actually having somebody bolt you into a chair and turn on the film. I cannot even fathom a guess as to whom this movie's target audience was aimed towards. Wiggers? Hip hop artists? Really stupid black people? Sociologists? Residents of "Da Hood!!!"? Prison inmates? This movie is an experiment in fear much in the same way that driving a rusted roofing nail through your hand is an experiment in pain or renting this movie is an experiment in being a complete stupid fucking idiot.
Review: "Eminem & 5 white kids from the suburbs get lost in Da Hood!!!" That's really the whole movie. Nothing else happens for the entire film, which according to my estimates, is approximately 482 decades long. I mean nothing happens. Literally nothing. Hell, I don't even think there's a movie located anywhere in this entire film, it's just somebody sticking a microphone in front of a drugged out hip hop "artist" and asking "hey, tell us something about da fictional Da Hip Hop Witch and we'll in turn put your name somewhere on this movie cover." It's not a very good deal for the hip hop artists, but since they regularly get shot while performing, I would guess they don't have exactly the best business sense. If you really want to see how bad this film is, check out the user reviews from the people who thought it was simply marvelous:
"Ayo seriously. Anyone haten on this genius film needs to stop. Handz down this white dude made a film with todays biggest artists on the planet in Eminem and Ja Rule and sold it."
"This movie is so sweet, I cant even tell you son! A well developed plot, the hottest hip hop stars, and crazy scurry. Dont watch this movie at night less you be with a gang of peeps. The twist wit the bike ridin fool is nuts. how this flick only be gettin a 1.5? I gave the piece a 10 for real."
"Fell me, I'm out. And I hopin there be being a sekuel to dis mastapiece. ICE ICE BABY IZ YO DESTINY!!!!"
Fell me, I'm out, ayo! That was me talking in secret hip hop code! Just in case any of you were actually dopey enough to pay money to rent this heap of flaming trash, I'm going to spoil the thrilling "conclusion" for you right now: Vanilla Ice comes running out of the woods and shouts "ICE ICE BABY!!!" Then it ends, assuming you believed the movie ever started in the first place. This film is so surreally awful that it's more plausible to believe the director simply ran out of cassette tapes and never voluntarily stopped filming - it was more an act of God. If this film was, in fact, directed by a white person, I plead to black people everywhere: KILL HIM FOR THE SAKE OF THE HUMAN RACE.
Score: Ten million white person tears.
Well I hope today's B-Movie Rodeo Roundup helped many of you choose the next movie you'll intentionally avoid at all possible costs. If you witness a friend or family member being exposed to this film, do NOT try to contact them in any way! You must assume that they have become one of "them" and will not respond to you in a familiar or friendly way. Please stay very far away from these movies, possibly behind lead-lined lead walls that explode and shoot white-hot ball bearings all over the place when exposed to a horrible movie.
Come to the Comedy Goldmine to see the latest concoction that the Something Awful Forum goons have created. This week's theme is "Biblical Endorsements," and that Jesus fellow sure draws a crowd, if you know what I mean! A crowd...? Get it!?!
Come and see it or your pets will die (I'm not kidding)!
I was betrayed by the bernio bros, the cougars, and this guy from back page I hired to keep me from jumping out a window at the DNC.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
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