Wednesday, August 31, 2011


The only reason to watch this episode is to see a lifestyles of the rich and famous parody done poorly about a ruthless dictator and then a guy being a straight up insane jerk for no good reason. He is beyond comic book evil.

I don't have the energy to try and make the rest of the boring stuff palatable.

Just, kinda, watch this for six minutes, then pay attention to the episode again:

Oh and yes, there are poop jokes.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


Since none of you mooks believe in democracy and freedom and thus did not vote for the camp counseling theme song, this won via forfeit:

(Not gonna lie, I was going to use that contest as an excuse to post the Black Panther theme either way. It must be in every entry, no matter how forced.)

With that little formality out of the way, let's dive back into T'Challa's world.

Episode six is shockingly coherent. When you are used to people not knowing how a story works and what a cliff-hanger actually is, when a story actually has a beginning, middle, and end, it is mind-boggling. Especially when those people are really good at telling the worst story ever.

That being said, episode six is still absolutely ridiculous.

We open up, shockingly, with a direct continuation of Klaw's fight with Black Panther's daddy. He kills him dead, and T'Challa will have none of this. He stone cold smokes that bitch with his own gat. Klaw is not happy about being shot with his own gun, but instead of dying at the hands of a toddler, he takes a swan dive out of a seven story window into some sort of hoverjet.

We get a montage of The Belgian government straight up Six Million Dollar Maning him, and he makes a huge deal out of the fact they ripped out his eye and replaced it with a robot eye that looks exactly like a regular eye. Also his hand transforms at least thirty seven thousand times into various unwieldy and useless states.

Klaw doesn't mind being sewn up and given a comical robot hand, but when you take his eye and replace it with one that can shoot lasers, he is just not a happy camper. He harps on it for no good reason and I can't imagine this having any necessity to the story whatsoever.

Klaw is a complicated man, and no one understands him but Duder in the body of a woman.

This segues, poorly, to T'Challa's mother being all stereotypical motherly and telling T'Challa to stop doing king things and get a wife. And pork her until a kid is produced. She really wants T'Challa to get laid, and especially wants him to bump his uglies with Storm of the X-Men.

Shuri overhears this, and being a nosy little cunt, she makes her mom tell the story of T'Challa and Storm and it is literally like hearing the mother from Gullah Gullah Island read a trashy dimestore romance. Alfre Woodard, you make some questionable decisions.

The gist of it is, much like the Amish, after a certain age, all Wakandans are kicked out and made to wander around Africa until they become a man. T'Challa goes to Cairo, where he meets Storm, and by meets Storm, I mean she straight up robs him. T'Challa does not agree with her decision to rob him, she he hunts her down and she tells her sob story (that we never hear). Apparently Cairo is a lot like Oliver Twist and Storm is The Artful Dodger with tits. Teenage T'Challa wrecks Storm's slaver-owner's shit, and the two have a torrid love affair that, again, we never see.

We go back to the present and T'Challa's mom makes some lame joke about the weather.

But, who cares about that because now we cut to The Vatican.

Yeah, that's right.

They're bringing religion in to mix with their racism.

Duder is in girl mode still, and is there to seduce someone from the Vatican to convince them to fight Wakanda. The Vatican is all too eager to help because Wakanda worships some lame panther god and is not down with the JHC.

Duder is concerned about how they can help out, but little does (s)he know that they have the Black Knight, who is a medieval knight in armor who fights on a flying horse. We see him being a knight in armor fighting another knight in Armor in the middle of a secret room in the Vatican.

I need to meet the architect who planned in the knight room.

Duder is all up into this idea, and we cut to T'Challa having a nightmare about his dad dying. This leads to him gathering the stereotype council and telling them they better find Klaw.

T'Challa tells his people to follow the money.

Monday, August 22, 2011


Camp Counseling is taking the week off.

I have a lot of drinking to do with a lot of people and I will not have the motor skills or cognitive functions to post about movies like Street Trash. 

However, since I wanna give you something to do, how about some audience participation?

I have thought long and hard, and I have come to the conclusion that Camp Counseling needs a theme song. I narrowed it down to two choices, but cannot decide between them.

This is where you, 10 people who read this blog, come in.

Help me decide between:


(the videos are allowed to influence your choice)

When I come back next week with more Black Panther, I will reveal the winner of this stupid, inane, waste of time.

Saturday, August 20, 2011


3 Dev Adam, in short, is a movie about Captain America and Mexican wrestling icon El Santo battling an evil, murderous Spider-Man and his army of Paul Kersey look-alikes and karate guys.

3 Dev Adam, longer, is about Captain America and Mexican wrestler El Santo, along with a Paul Kersey look-alike cop and a foxy lady, fighting evil, murderous Spider-Man who is a counterfeiter and has the ability to duplicate himself, along with his equally foxy girlfriend and his own army of Paul Kersey look-alikes and karate guys.

3 Dev Adam, in summary, is probably the culmination of all my previous entries. It dips into a little bit of everything I loved from Rock 'N' Roll Nightmare to Black Panther.  It is a surreal fever dream of everything that you could possibly do wrong, yet oh so right. Plus, it is blatant copyright infringement and Spider-Man not only is evil, but he has these wicked long eyebrows and wears blue eye shadow. And he stabs people with a switchblade.

Now, on to the review.

I honestly do not know how to describe the thing I just saw, and I have seen it countless times before. 3 Dev Adam is a movie I will downright force people to watch, and I always get the same reaction. It is absolutely insane, and yet it immediately leaves you once you have seen it. Your brain cannot accept what you just saw, so it immediately throws out every memory of it. Thus, every time you watch the movie, it is like it is the first time all over again. And that is it's secret strength. That goofy grin you wear the first time is the same goofy grin you will wear the 100th time watching this dang movie.

Another thing to keep in mind when watching this movie is that the entire film is comprised of the middles of scenes. There is no beginning nor no end to anything that happens. Every cut is like thirty seconds into whatever was happening and ends about a minute before the natural end. It adds to the bizarre viewing experience. I would say that it is like watching a movie made entirely of jump cuts, but there are actual, poorly placed jump cuts in the middle of every action scene. It really is a sight to behold.

The flick opens with evil Spider-Man and the Paul Kersey players burying a woman in sand as she screams horribly. They all laugh maniacally and push a boat propeller right into her face.  It is at this point I am convinced that this movie was really written and  directed by J. Jonah Jameson, but only the Turks had the balls to finance his operation.

This leads to our credits sequence which is just stills of all the major action scenes in the movie with words over it. Honestly, you could watch the credits and know everything that happens. 

Immediately after killing that lady, Spider-Man finds him being chased by the mafia. The mafia hates Spider-Man because he is a better gangster than they are. So, Spidey hides himself behind conveniently placed lumber and jumps out, stabbing them both and uttering the greatest line in his entire history:

"adios, mafia!"

This is complete with a Spanish accent and everything.

Keep in mind this is a film made entirely in Turkish, and Spider-Man is supposed to be Asian. Well, not in real life, but in this movie. He is an Asian gangster who stabs people and prints counterfeit money. JJJ must've been stuck in Japanazi hatin' mode.


I just can't do it.

I can't talk about the plot anymore, because once I get to the point where El Santo beats up four karate guys using only wrestling moves including submission holds and an airplane spin, I just can't believe that these things happened anymore. Instead, I will just give you a bulleted list of the things that most definitely happen in this movie:

-  El Santo beats up and straight up robs an evil club owner. Not to get information mind you. He goes into his wallet and steals all his money. Then brags about it to their cop buddy.

- Captain America spends the entire movie macking on their lady partner, Julia. Like, to creepy levels.

- Everyone in Turkey who is a cop or a robber is rocking the Paul Kersey look. It is like they hired the stunt cast of Death Wish to make this movie.

And now for Spider-Man's greatest hits:

- Spider-Man goes on a murder spree, focusing solely on people in the shower. He never murders a clothed person except for:

- Spider-Man sends rats down a tube to gnaw a dude's face off. 

- Spider-Man and his lady friend, Nadia, have the creepiest sex scene ever. It is just grabbing random hunks of each other's flesh while creepy bobbleheads watch. And get close-ups. Were bobbleheads even a thing in the 70's?

- Spider-Man continues to bust out random Spanish catch-phrases throughout the movie with little to no explanation.

Spider-Man uses the ability to duplicate himself to evade Captain America and El Santo for the last thirty minutes of the movie, only to be caught when, well, he just doesn't duplicate himself any more. There is literally no explanation. Just okay, now he's dead this time.

There is a lot more insanity in the dialogue and in the action scenes, but they need to be witnessed naturally. They really do like to sell the fact that El Santo is a wrestler, mind you. He maybe throws a few punches a fight before he starts suplexing and body-slamming all comers.

You know what, I think I can end this review right on that note. Picture a Turkish man dressed as a Mexican wrestler body-slamming the losers of a Paul Kersey look-alike contest.

Picture that and tell me you don't want to watch that movie.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Friday, August 19, 2011


This episode skimps on really, pretty much anything resembling storytelling. Things just happen. I will describe it all in four sentences.

The Juggernaut is a dumb racist who cannot drink from a can and beats up rhinos.

The Radioactive Man is very Russian and apparently lives in his own filth.

They actually named a fictional African country Niganda.

Klaw killed T'Challa's father.

Here's the credits:

I'll be taking a Black Panther break for the weekend, but there will be a full movie review on Sunday.

Thursday, August 18, 2011


The Black Panther's scowl goes unresolved as John Hammond's prized font gives us the exact same "previously on..." as episode three. Only with Klaw at the end.  Also, this is the episode where we find out other superheroes are chumps except for Black Panther and Storm. Because, you see white people superhero like this, but black people superhero like this. 

So, after Klaw's story, dude who's name we never learn agrees to join him. Klaw's hand transforms like a billion times and we hear that he killed T'Challa's pops, T'Chaka, but T'Challa obviously lived and is the one who totally jacked him up and made him have a Tron hand.

This immediately cuts to inauguration day, and Black Panther's sweet throne and foxy guards are shown. In the exact same animation as in the credits.

These credits:

I will never stop posting them.

Anywho, after a weak ceremony, Black Panther discusses politics with his counsel of elders. They are dressed like every African stereotype possible, including the witch doctor with a huge ass beard. Such topics are telling everyone else to fuck off, not giving up the cure for cancer, and not being able to find Klaw even though they have better intelligence than the CIA and Moussad.

Also, they need a new ambassador. T'Challa tries to send his uncle, but his uncle thinks New York is awful, so T'Shawn gets the job. The ever angry T'Shawn is now representing Wakanda. This should not lead to any complications. Nope.

We then get to see that Klaw is a rad dude, as he takes dude he broke out of prison...

You know what? Anyone who knows who that guy is supposed to be, please leave a comment here. It is frustrating. I could tell you the entire history of U.S 1, Ego: The Living Planet, Blackwulf, and The Thumper, but I have no idea who this guy is supposed to be.

So, from now on I am referring to him as "Duder"

Klaw takes Duder to a brothel to get his freak on. Klaw is a pretty radical boss, though I question his decision to not get down and dirty with any of the fine prosties up in the hizzy. That is his one fatal flaw.

Duder takes the prostitute in the room and pays her heaps of money to let him kiss her. At first, I think it is just because he is lonely and all the prison rape made him question some things. But, nope! He kisses her to steal her body. You know this is happening because his eyes flash blue.

We then see a phone call from Ororo, the X-Man Storm to T'Challa, and T'Shawn totally jacks it up. His uncle tells him he is a nimrod and they have been waiting hella long for this call. Storm is bad at following up, it seems. Anywho, she hangs up and is never mentioned again in this episode. 

In his new lady body, Duder talks all creepy about wanting to be with a woman while Klaw goes overboard with his ever changing Decepticon hand. It gets completely out of hand, and to make matters worse, the poor madame of the brothel now has to clean up after a corpse.

Then we see Juggernaut completely rampaging in incredibly slow animation. Slow-mo can make some things look really great, but an unstoppable force going slower than an old woman on crutches is not exactly awe inspiring. And him taking out the worst X-Men ever makes it even less great.

Seriously, the X-Men are made out to be the biggest losers of all time. They get manhandled easily, they all talk like dinguses, and none of them have more than 3 frames of animation a piece. It is hilarious how bad they are made out to be.

But, beating up the X-Men was just a segue into Klaw hiring him, and the two walking really bad-assedly away from wreckage, making sure to punk out Nightcrawler before exiting.

Then we see the mopey corpses, finally revealed to be Deathloks, murder a special forces dude dressed as the Black Panther in a field test.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


I am totally miffed, but going through this episode, I don't have a cheap reason to post the opening credits again. I agonized over how I could do weave it into this narrative. But, alas I came up short. I guess I will have to go sans ridiculous credits...

Naw, I'm just kidding. If you thought for a second I'd let this post go without the credits sequence, you are an idiot. Here they are again, you jerks:

The benevolent and wise BET give us a "previously on..." montage to open today's episode, and, man, it just shows how low rent this show is when a montage of the best and most important moments is boring. Thankfully, that part is short and we get to watch Black Panther beat up his sister.

Oh, and beat up his sister he does. After administering a thorough beatdown, Black Panther says if Shuri keeps actin' like a jealous bitch, he gon' go tell they momma on her.  They laugh, shake hands, and fight some more.

Meanwhile, in the Monaco branch of Jurassic Park, some straight up Pink Panther nonsense is going on, as we watch Batroc the Leaper break into a a mansion, beat up some guards, and murder a dude. This would be a pretty neat thing, but it is interrupted by Klaw. Klaw is a dude with a scarred up face and an Inspector Gadget hand. However, in the world of Black Panther, his hand is constantly changing into this doofy looking 1980's robot hand. Even when there is no reason for it, Klaw's hand transforms.

I think it is to prove that this show is, indeed, animated. And, really, at times you need that reminder.

Anyway, Klaw talks to Batroc into helping him take over Wakanda. Well, he doesn't really talk him into it so much as offer him oodles of cash. He never names an amount, and deep down I think Klaw is the kind of guy who would just say "oodles of cash."

Then we see Klaw talking to a random dude in a prison who is never introduced or called by name. He is only there so Klaw can flash back to the 19th century and his mega racist ancestor.

So apparently, Klaw's descendants have always been military-oriented cocks, and this dude is no exception. He looks like Teddy Roosevelt after a twelve day bender and sounds like a slightly less friendly Lee Marvin.

Now, Teddy Marvin Klaw is a taskmaster and wants his slaves to carry his stuff into firing range of Wakanda. His slaves, however, have other ideas, so they run away, only to get massacred while TMK calls them black assholes. This is the least offensive thing he says.

This cuts to the soldiers now carrying everything, and one of them asks Teddy M. Klaw if they can ditch the fine china. Teddy don't take too kindly like this, because ditching the china makes you just as bad as "the monkeys" and he does not want to sink to their level.

Long story short, they get to Wakanda, Teddy gets really excited to rape the Wakanda women, then Black Panther unleashes his robot that makes guns backfire and kill you. Teddy tries to make one last stand for bigotry only to die as well.

A random soldier asks for forgiveness from the Panther, but BP only scowls.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


So we are on to the second episode of BET's magnum opus Black Panther: The Animated Series. I was going to start off this entry with facts like I did the first, but man, I really don't feel like detailing every boneheaded thing this show does. Suffice it to say, this episode ups the ante to far more ridiculous levels. Also, it decides to be a comedy for no good reason.

Let's begin.

So, Black Panther totally whoops Captain America something fierce and then the credits roll.

These credits:

(Yes I am going to post that video every dang chance I get. Deal with it.)

After the beat down and the fat beats are laid down, Black Panther totally revives Captain America with magical African smelling salts, and carries him off into the distance. The flashback ends, and we see more gratuitous use of the Jurassic Park font.

The word of Black Panther wrecking Captain America puts racist general Stan Lee over the edge, and he throws a tizzy fit to end all tizzy fits and is force ably removed from the room and the story.  In any other situation this would be a downer, but this is fucking Black Panther. They will find a way to be far more ridiculous without a man who's entire existence is about shouting jingoistic racial epithets.

Strong black leader lady asks white nerdy guy to tell her more about who the Black Panther is. So, we get another flashback that is a straight up slapstick comedy complete with dingus boxing announcers who's sole jobs are to make awful jokes. We find out that to become the Black Panther you must first beat the Black Panther. Kind of like how becoming president works in Death Race 2000. 

We also learn that the Black Panther has a cousin named T'Shawn. That's right, in a world where everyone's name at least sounds somewhat like a really white guy trying to come up with African sounding names (T'Chaka, Shuri, T'Challa), we get a dude named T'Shawn. Well, T'Shawn is kind of a prick and gets beaten up.

While this is going on, Black Panther's momma is watching it on her sweet flat-screen television and is all bothered by the nonsense. She doesn't like fighting or something. Also, she has Shuri, her daughter locked in her room so she can't fight and become the Black Panther herself.

We immediately cut to Shuri showing up to fight and become the Black Panther herself. No one can tame the sassy princess. Except for when the Black Panther throws a gigantic dude out of the ring and it lands on top of her right before she can challenge for her right to rule. It is some straight up Looney Tunes shit.

Taking advantage of this, a masked man who totally isn't T'Challa jumps into the ring. Wait. Did I tell you all who T'Challa is? T'Challa is the current Black Panther as told to you in the credits sequence. Him winning this fight is the least surprising thing ever, and for some reason, his unmasking leads to a false ending. Just a couple of seconds of blackness for no good reason.

Or it could've just been dead air. Or a broken video feed. Or a metaphor for the stark void of humanity. Really, with Black Panther it could be anything.

So, T'Challa wins, and everyone is happy but Shuri and T'Shawn. Shuri is just pissed he got there before her. T'Shawn is pissed because T'Shawn is pissed all the time. 

With our history lesson complete, nerdy white guy and strong black leader lady have a discussion about how to completely rock Wakanda's shit. Nerdy dude says it ain't possible, but leader lady ain't wanna hear none of his guff on it. She mentions they might need to bring in special forces.

We then see that the U.S. Government is reanimating mopey corpses and giving them gun arms.

Monday, August 15, 2011


This show is a distillation of everything I could possibly love in hopelessly misguided and one-note entertainment. It is flagrantly racist, mind-bogglingly stupid, and an incomprehensible mess of pointless ideas. To boot, it is animated like a show for three-year-olds, complete with shoddy, stilted dialogue read by people who probably could have been doing a million better projects.

Needless to say, I cannot get enough of this show. Hell, I could watch the opening video endlessly:

Keep in mind, the opening is about 87% of the animation you will see in this series. It is gloriously haphazard, jerky, and just plain lazy

Now, to truly review these episodes, I must delve into the narrative stylings of BET's animation sensation. All entries will end abruptly, much like the episodes of the show themselves, and they will kind of meander a bit. Each episode is only eleven minutes long, so it is not like I have anything near of a deep enough well to draw from.

But first, some stats.

Number of unnatural pauses: 3
Number of times Black Panther/Wakanda proves everyone in the world is a chump: 3
Most racist line: "Who are these savages to have a no-fly zone anyway? What? Are they going to chuck spears at us?"
Number of racist lines not about Wakandans: 2

So, this episode opens up with a flashback to Wakanda in the past. We know it is in the past because they straight up stole the font from Jurassic Park. Some jerks dressed up like Kamala: The Ugandan Headhunter, only thinner are really getting pumped to attack Wakanda. They so wanna show up them jerks. They make lame jokes that take forever to get delivered because of the horrible animation.

Suddenly, dudes start getting eviscerated by spikes and then spears blot out the sun in a total rip-off of 300 and they all die except for one dude who gets yelled at by the Black Panther to tell everyone about what happened. This show is ultra-violent, but it is so terribly animated that it actually makes it worse, somehow.

We are now in the present day and a strong, professional black woman is talking to generals about Wakanda in the white house. This is where the shit gets real because we meet racist general Stan Lee. Yes, that's right folks. Your good ol' pal Stan Lee plays the most ridiculously racist character in all of media. He slams Wakanda and the French and pretty much everyone for a few minutes, until we get a slide show to show us how boss Wakanda is.

This leads to a flashback where the Black Panther kills Nazis and fights Captain America, who acts like the biggest doofus ever.

Sunday, August 14, 2011


Gonna preface this entry with the fact I love the fact I don't have to begin this post with "my computer." Every post I made in the past two weeks made me feel like I was the guy who talked about his girlfriend way too much. You know that guy. You hate that guy. Well, at least, I hate that guy. He's kind of a dick.

Okay, that is out of the way, now lets' talk about a movie where Duke Phillips fights a space monster. God it feels good to be back.

Deep Space, I am convinced, is just several terrible scripts that had nothing to do with each other somehow merged into one, super-shit-script that magically becomes a delight. It is a loose cannon cop movie, a sci-fi b-picture, a buddy cop movie, an evil government movie, a complete rip-off of Alien, and there are also shades of the erotic thriller. I mean, if you find Charles Napier to be the height of sexuality. I know I do, but, different strokes and all.

Being as it is a Frankenstein's monster of a picture, I can't really sum up the plot. I am constantly mixing up when things happen, if they happened, and when I try to remember bits of if I am not sure what I saw didn't happen in another movie. This flick hits every cliche of every genre it is a part of, and at times, it is hilariously overwhelming. How are you going to have a "turn in your badge and gun" scene immediately followed by "stupid teens with a broke down car" scene and expect me to keep track? Fred Olen Ray, you are a devious, devious man.

Did I mention the illustrious Mr. Olen Ray directed this gem? If you are as into campy flicks as I am, you probably know his name by now. He not only makes schlocky horror, but also dabbles quite heavily in the Skinemax realm. I mention this because you've probably seen his work at 3 in the morning that one time you were really, really lonely.

It's okay. I'm not judging. Plus, there were some fine performances in Tarzeena: Jiggle in the Jungle.

For those not in the know, man, you are in for a treat when you pop in his fine wares. He has this prolific incompetence. It is staggering how little talent this man has, yet, he keeps trying. He keeps on plugging away and nothing ever works, but it never discourages him. Also, he is swimming in all that sweet soft-core cash, so that's gotta perk up his day.

Since I can't quite talk about the plot in this flick, I have to talk about the acting.

Never before have I seen such a wide variety of talent-levels and skills in one flick. Charles Napier is pretty much Duke Phillips all the time, no matter what he is in, and is a treat as a grizzled old detective fighting space monsters. I call him the base-line because he is adequate enough in the things he needs to do.

His partner, however, is hilarious. He seems to come from the blaxploitation school of ridiculous over-emoting to try and rise above the sewage being filmed. The problem with this being, he is the only dude doing this. He wastes way too much effort to deliver even the most useless of lines and it is a goddamn delight. Picture the scene of Jimmy in the opening of Black Dynamite and you have this guy pegged.

Then, you have the lady who plays his love interest, who has the charisma of a wet paper bag, and the two have almost zero chemistry. Charles Bronson had more chemistry with his leading ladies than Napier did with this broad. It is almost painful seeing them try to interact with each other.

The bit characters are even more erratic from the stupid chief who looks and acts like he is one second away from snapping and massacring the cast and crew, the evil scientist who cannot stop hamming it up for even a second, and the crazy exterminator who is a character straight out of Beakman's World.

Finally, you have the army dudes who are straight up teleprompter reading. I refuse to believe that they were not. There is no other explanation for their line delivery.

Oh, and Julie Newmar is in the movie too. She has like three scenes, and they all involve her looking and sounding pumped full of morphine and prattling on about how she is psychic and knows things. Basically, she is there when Fred Olen Ray can't figure out a proper way to bridge two scenes together.

Now, let's talk about the monsters. They are the love child of the Xenomorph from Alien and the Pizza Monsters from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. 

You know, these guys:

Only with a lot more spikes and about a billion times less convincing. Oh and it has a stomach mouth vagina that shoots tentacles to eviscerate its foes. I actually really dug the monster because it is such an awkward costume that the bits of rubber would flap in ways I am relatively sure were not scripted or wanted.

The other kick I get out of this movie is how blatantly it steals from other movies. Remember that scene with Harry Dean Stanton and the cat in Alien? It's totally in this movie, only with an old security guard and with the monster being a jerk. Also, Charles Napier straight up cop's Ash's look in The Evil Dead for the big showdown, up to and including the chainsaw. Not as a hand, that was Evil Dead 2, but he still rocks it and gets covered in an accurate represenation of the blood and grime Ash has by the end of the movie.

There are other swipes, but I'll be damned if I remember them. Though, as I talk more, bits of pieces of the plot come to me. That is how this movie works. It creeps in and out of your brain.

There is, actually, one more scene I have to mention before ending this. After only being in one other scene with him, our love interest totally digs on Charles Napier. So, she goes to his house, and after Julie Newmar calls and harasses him, ol' Charlie burns his delicious steak dinner, and instead opts for the much classier fast food/champagne menu. Lady cop is trying her hardest to convince us she is an actor, but it isn't working, so Charlie asks her if she wants some after dinner music.

He disappears and we see a straight up Batman style gearing up montage as he puts on traditional Scottish garb and comes out playing the bagpipes. It is downright surreal as it is a serious, no-nonsense, tough-as-nails beefy montage. It is the type of montage you know should lead to fools getting wrecked, schooled, wasted, plugged...well, before fools' days go down the shitter at a rapid velocity.

Anyway, Charles Napier comes out mincing about with his bagpipes. He is going to seduce this lady by playing the bagpipes. The loose cannon cop who plays by his own rules and does not have a sensitive side plays the bagpipes to make women strip naked. 

It is like Mr. Olen Ray saw Stone Cold and scowled menacingly at The Boz's pet komodo dragon, deep down saying to himself  "I can top that."

And really, Freddie O. Ray, you totally did. You totally topped Stone Cold.  I hope you are proud.

Flip back here tomorrow for the beginning of my harrowing and hilarious journey through the world of BET's Black Panther.

Thursday, August 11, 2011


So, I got my computer back.

And, since I owe you a few entries, starting this Sunday, I will review an episode of BET's Black Panther a day, as well as my usual Sunday movie reviews.

I will make up for lost content.

Also, look at this:

Sunday, August 7, 2011


Okay I am promised by computer will be back to me sometime this week.

So, instead, here are some trailers youtube recommended to me on my phone:

Wednesday, August 3, 2011


So my computer is still in an alcoholic coma, but I refuse to leave you without content. I won't be able to do reviews until it gets fixed, but I can, from work, rant and rave and ramble and complain about a multitude of things. I might even climb up on my battle-scarred soapbox and preach at'cha a bit. Don't worry, this isn't permanent, and I do have something special planned for when my computer rises from grave. It will make up for the fact that the words I am vomiting at your eyes until then won't pertain to campy movies, because, really, I know you only come to this blog to see me talk about Hitler diddling a werewolf and also Porky's. 

Right now, however, I want to talk comedy and how to write it.


Nothing you write will ever be as funny as the funniest thing in the world: someone falling down. Just imagine it. You are laughing now, aren't you? 

Okay, you can continue reading now.

I have no pretensions that I am the almighty expert of writing things for the sole purpose of soliciting yucks, chuckles, giggles, or guffaws, but I feel as though a lot of people throw out either cliched or vague "tips" that really help no one. I do not know if it is a subconscious barrier to protect them from anyone copping their style or an inability to articulate why the hell a thing is funny, but I notice a lot of advice given on comedy is soulless and weak. It's upsetting because, as a dude who wants to die laughing, stifling or baffling a new voice with shit advice feels just plain wrong. It is tantamount to killing jokes; jokeicide.

Or, does Funnycide work better?  Gigglicide?

Aw, who cares. This joke is getting boring. Plus, it's like my third list joke in as many paragraphs. My routine might be getting weak.

I can get this back on track. I can do it.

Okay, so, the first thing anyone is told when they want to write comedy is: "you either have it, or you don't."  However, it is never elaborated on nor is it given the importance and weight that it rightfully deserves. This is not meant to discourage, mind you. I am not belittling practicing and honing a craft until hilarity flows through your chakras and spills out your fingertips, but there needs to be a strong, innate basis of comedy within you before any of this is even possible. And some people just ain't funny. It is not the end of the world if you can't write comedy, not everyone can.

The easy way to know if you have "it" is if you can make a stranger laugh. I am not saying to go out right now and do open mic. I am not telling you to corner someone at a bus stop and read a list of knock-knock jokes. But, if you can make a stranger laugh, truly laugh when the opportunity to do so arises, you've made it. 

You can't trust making your family laugh, nor can you trust making your friends laugh; even co-workers are dubious. Family grew up with you. You bond with friends over similar personalities, and, most likely, similar senses of humor. You don't really need to reach for anything to make these people laugh. Co-workers are dubious because, chances are, you can make them laugh about something that has happened in the confines of the workspace or they know you well enough to understand your point of view. Anything that needs a set-up or can be deemed an inside joke is wrong, as is anything that comes from an understanding of who you are as a person. 

When you are beginning writing, 90% of the audience or greater will have no idea who you are. You will not have any cult of personality behind you. Your words will be your only weapon. You can't rely on "you had to be there humor." Quoting The Simpsons will not be an easy out anymore. Your voice is all you have, and that voice better not be reliant on a myriad of specific, mundane experiences that impact neither jack nor squat of whatever you have splayed onto the page. You will drown most assuredly.

More importantly, you need to actually have a voice. A way of looking and describing things that could only come from the cockles of your very soul. This cannot be taught. Your voice will guide you through the tips and tricks I will lend you and lead you towards what is right. I cannot tell you what will be right for each and every thing you plaster in typeface, you will need an inner monologue with a third eye and probably a profound need to make everyone stand idly by while you put your words at them. To make them laugh, of course. Not to convince them of crazy lizard people 9/11 JFK conspiracy theories. Even if it would elicit unwanted cackles.

Let's move on, pretending you have "it." Good on you, you're a funny motherfucker. This next bit will be for anything but dialogue. Writing comedic dialogue is 100% having "it" and nothing fundamentally mechanical. It is having the ability to distill the skills described below and turn it into something a human being would actually say. It doesn't have to be 100% natural, but it needs to be consistent.

The first thing you will want to do is learn every single grammatical rule possible. Learn how to use a semicolon properly. Learn what a gerund is. Learn what you should never start a sentence with. Absorb every single archaic, maddening, and impossible rule in whatever language you are writing in. Fill your cranium with more than it ever wanted to know about the mechanics of the written word until you have a blinding migraine.

Then, systematically twist, bend, and stretch those rules to within a millimeter of their breaking point.

Use properly punctuated run-on sentences immediately followed by two-word sentences. Abuse parenthetical asides. Use an ungainly string of adverbs to describe a mundane adjective. Gerund the hell out of a piece. Make an entire paragraph consist of nothing but similes. Commas must become your best friend. Italicize for emphasis any chance you get. Apply double-negatives correctly, or even go deeper and bust out triple-, quadruple-, or quintuple-negatives. In short, make use of how ridiculous the rules of core language are before you start plugging in your ideas.

 Never flat out break any grammatical rules, that makes you look amateurish, but go to town with what you know. Don't stretch the rules in every sentence, either, or you will look like a pompous jackass. Do it enough that you  look like you are knowledgeable but just don't care. A laissez-faire attitude is the key to comedy. Do not provoke, but instead feign shock at the reactions you get.

This philosophy should also be applied to word choice. This is not just about finding the perfect word, which is something you should already agonize over, but also how to use the words surrounding it. Use too many words or too few words to describe something. Overdescription and underdescription seem to be a lost art. Overdescription can add spice to any vitriolic spittle you are transcribing. Underdescription is even more effective, especially when paired with a generous helping of overdescription to make the reader take a second glance and laugh louder the second time.

With mechanics thankfully out of the way, now we can focus on what I feel comedy really is: an improper response. Comedy is almost exclusively reaction-based. Even slapstick. It's not the Three Stooges hitting each other with random objects that is funny, but how they escalate the violence and what they do it with. Also the sound effects and "oofs" and "nyuck-nyuck-nyucks." These are all reactions to what is a simple grievance with the idiocy of Moe or Larry or Curly or Shemp or even Curly Joe if you're desperate. With dialogue, I really hope I don't have to bust out what a "straight man" is.

The trick, however, is discerning what the proper response would be. If you are telling an anecdote, you have the benefit of societal norms, but they are by no means a crutch. You still need to take in account your voice and what would be expected of you. Not by people who know you, mind you, but by what you are presenting yourself as through your humble narration. Or not-so humble narration if arrogance is your thing.

When it comes to fiction, the line becomes more blurred. You don't have the safety net of 100% accurate societal norms to catch you when you fail, however, you have the ability to weave whatever should be the response and twist your piece around it. Your job, as the writer, is to figure out what the normal response should be. You never out and out say it, but you go completely against that grain with what you want to stand out as funny. Then, you must somehow, naturally, place a reaction to the improper reaction somewhere in here to punctuate that, indeed, this was inappropriate. It sounds a lot more daunting than it is. Please refer, yet again, to the "straight man."

Also, do not veer away from terrible humor. Embrace puns, and the completely obvious. By not being clever, you are actually giving an improper response, especially if you build up to a lame pun by completely masturbating the English language with flowery, delicate prose. It is actually funny to purposely fail at raising the bar. Don't rely on this cheat often, but it works in a pinch.

However the biggest thing to keep in mind is that the story, idea, joke, article, etc. itself, is not funny. I don't care what it is. It could be a ten page dick and fart joke or an epistolary novel about pedophile zombies...

Wait, shit, no one write that second thing. I am writing it. It is my idea.

Where was I?

Yeah, the story itself is never what is funny. It is the way it is told. All the tips I gave you won't mean anything unless you know how to (ab)use them. You need to practice and develop an eye for what is expected, and make sure you never give it. Always have about three or four improper responses holstered, ready to draw them at the drop of a dime.

And, seriously, nobody steal my novel idea. I will sue the shit out of you.