Memorial Valley Massacre
Lowtax: Eco-horror film about an evil land developer who wants to develop some land, which he obviously should not do because that is wrong. Dumb campers are picked off by a werewolf caveman, who people somehow confuse with a bear. The lesson to be learned here is that living in the woods makes you retarded, and we should encourage land developers to develop the shit out of any place containing a single tree.
Garbage Day: A feral caveman child kisses a mouse, chases and mauls a moped-joyriding fat kid, becomes outraged at the sight of wristwatches, and impales his long-estranged father with a swinging, spike-covered log. Meanwhile, slap-happy teens taunt the elderly, and the phrase "good luck on your safari" is muttered.
Lowtax: I like how the movie reveals the werewolf-caveman creature is actually the park director's son who was accidentally left in the woods years ago. Maybe trees absorb human intelligence and convert it into breadfruit.
Garbage Day: Previous to arriving in the park, these people were nuclear scientists and chemical engineers. Then they entered the camp grounds, and suddenly they required a non-profit organization to help them chew their food.
Lowtax: An erotic, towel-wiping scientist teacher jabs monkeys in the eyeballs with needles in this harrowing tale from 1990 somehow made in 1970. Like every accomplished scientist, he shrewdly decides to stick himself with his experimental serum, briefly granting him amazing godlike superpowers. Unfortunately, the medication has a side effect of turning him into a "living fossil," thus putting the brakes on his exciting career of monkey eyeball science and murder.
Garbage Day: At first this superstar scientist's potion appeared underwhelming, because even people without elixirs coursing through their veins are able to trip old people and seduce slutty middle-aged academic investigators. Later, the serum proves its worth by turning him into an ooze-dripping dinosaur. I think Pfizer recently patented a drug for that.
Lowtax: I'm having a hard time recalling the original purpose behind Dr. Asshole's wacky experiment. Was he just injecting stuff for the hell of it?
Garbage Day: Maybe he was trying to grow a prehensile tail, so he could simultaneously trip multiple geezers.
Scream Bloody Murder
Lowtax: Some kid runs over his farmer father with a thresher, which then accidentally rolls over his own hand and results in him getting a prosthetic replacement appendage and prosthetic replacement father. He kills the new father and flees the area once he realizes there are no more fathers to kill, eventually shacking up with a prostitute and going into a church to die.
Garbage Day: A sniveling mama's boy with a hook for a hand racks up the world's wimpiest body count, slaying a freakishly tame dog, an elderly woman with a walker (after a prolonged struggle), a squealing sissy sailor, an art painting, and his own pre-pubescent hand. It's like "Buster Bluth: Serial Killer!"
Lowtax: This would've never happened if those fat cats in Washington would've provided this poor boy with a sufficient supply of fathers.
Garbage Day: And hands.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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