Wednesday, July 23, 2014

It's a $#!%!^@% Stretch Monster

We interrupt the normal idiocy of this blog for a whole different type of idiocy, namely, my midlife crisis.  I am now the proud owner of a repop (reproduction) Stretch Monster.

He is, without a doubt, in the category of red-sryup filled monsters, the coolest thing ever.  I know you will agree this is a proper cure for a midlife crisis, or, if you have no soul, agree that I should have gone with the boat and the 20 year old bikini model instead.

Here Stretch Monster hangs out with some fellow monsters.  Look at that smug grin, he knows he can take them, but he doesn't have to prove it.

He's wondering if he should point out that spot on Rodan's nose, but he's thinking that Rodan probably already knows.

Here's Stretch Monster with some Shogun Warriors.  Again, see the confidence of a monster that's filled with syrup that has the consistency of snotty oatmeal.  He knows, regardless of how many missiles or battle axes the Shogun Warriors have, he can take them.

Though he might have to lay down afterwards -- and as he's filled with syrup -- that means his butt will get flat.

He'd rather avoid that.

He's a rock n' roll monster, too.  As Stan Lee commented, 'nuff said.

Finally, Stretch Monster hangs out with some heroes and villains of Eternia.  Why aren't they fighting?  Because Stretch Monster brought peace to the He-man universe by his sheer will.  He tried to broker a peace with the single term of "everybody gang piles on Orko" but even Hordak wasn't going to go for that.  Stretch Monster might just take it out on Orko, anyway.  That's how Stretch Monster rolls.

Now he goes back in his styrofoam coffin so he doesn't deform.  This is how middle-aged people play with toys.

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Sunday, July 20, 2014

The Spaghetti Strip: Sexy Proibitissimo, Part 1

I've reviewed a lot of 60's nudie cutie films, most are boring, some are entertainingly strange, and some of them slowly ratchet up the strangeness until somebody is stripping for Frankenstein.  Oh yes, this happens.  Welcome to our first Italian nudie cutie: Sexy Proibitissimo ... the film I'm going to regret doing as spelling Proibitissimo is annoyingly hard.

Me Italian Caveman!  Hope writer doesn't resort to broad ethnic stereotypes!

The idea behind ... sigh ... Sexy Proibitissimo ... is a bunch of stripping scenes throughout the ages.  We start back in caveman times, and our first few frames of the film tell us a couple important things. It's filmed well, and the women are stripping in a place that's probably 90% chiggers and ticks.

Our caveman is tired after a long day of hunting.  At this point, if you are a young earth creationist, then you know three things: (1) he was hunting dinosaurs and (2) the flood was caused by all the stripping and (3) how did they get this actual footage of caveman days???  Amazing!!!

Ug, time up!  Cave well lit by studio light, must be day!

Out sexy cave lady wants some attention, but our caveman is wiped out because a bunch of idiots keep asking him if he rides dinosaurs.

Sexy cave lady has a secret weapon.  No, not her Flintstone's hot bird-beak hair curler, but a sexy strip tease that momentarily will distract our caveman from remembering he's in a cave of rotting animals carcasses and human waste.  Sexy!

Ug, look, me invent thong!

Cave lady alluringly strips off her 20th century manufactured clothing, who's very existence would probably be a bit more exciting to our cave man.  Still, she gives it the best shot she can, as she rolls around in furs covered in fleas.

Wait, maybe it's not a dance, maybe it's some sort of ancient delousing!

How's the cave man doing?

Me bored.  Dance lack Je ne sais quoi.

Eh.  Ug seen better!  Ug seen cave bear wiggle better when Ug beat to death with club!

Our scene switches to a modern stripping show to compare.  In the 60s, a more polite time, you calmly circled the stripper and clapped slowly.  Nothing at all menacing about that!

The stormtrooper dance was a big hit at the rotary club.

Have a friend addicted to stripping?  Think this friend needs help?  Honestly, forget those 12 step programs, three steps in and you're drinking coffee like a truck stop waitress.  I propose a one step program:

Screen shots.

Take at the right time, any stripping, no matter how sexy, becomes something designed by H.R. Giger while possessed by H.R. Pufnstuf.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Pulped, Part 7

What fearsome visage shall greet us on today's pulp cover?

Uh ... oh ... well ...

No, just no.  What could be under that loin cloth?  What is causing this metal dork more embarrassment than that metallic grin that looks all the world like Chesire Cat trying to pass a gallstone?

The robot is just on the wrong cover.

I think we can fix that.

You're welcome, you piece of goofy crap.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Pulped, Part 6

I swear I've had a couple of dates like this ...

The great thing about some of these pulp artist is how much time they spent learning to draw beautiful women, and absolutely no time learning to draw anything else.  It's "lavishly illustrated" for sure, that is, if you have a female lobster hand fetish.

The thing I'll charitably call an ape is a wonder to behold.  From the ... lavishly ... painted hair and it's sparkling green highlights -- from a light source that manages to pass directly through the woman -- to the impossible legs and missing butt (he's very sensitive about that, as most apes are), to the completely insane addition of the gun.  Did the editor not think this was enough already?

"She's been kidnapped by an ape man that is not only 2 feet taller but probably 400 lbs heavier, but something seems off!  How could this monster possibly kidnap this woman?  I know, add a smoking gun!"

Bonus tip:  If your Craig's List hookup emails you to "meet me at the morgue," don't go.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Pulped, Part 5

Would Lars of Mars be the same two-fisted hero if his parents decided to call him Humperdinck of Mars?

The fun thing about this cover is neither the robot nor the woman seem at all happy to see Lars of Mars.  The robot looks pretty perplexed about the whole thing.

Well, who is this fellow with the well-defined butt?  And why did he just knock Greg's leg off?  Maybe he wants this soft squishy thing I just found.  I was thinking it'd make a good weather vane but if this ruffian and his plug-based fly apparatus wants it back, then all he had to do was ask!  Greg had a wife and child!  How is he going to provide for them now -- he was an robot olympics running champion!

The woman seems a bit annoyed, as if Lars has shown up late for a date.  She went to all the trouble to dress up in her weather vane hat and finest cone breast containers, and he shows up 10 minutes late, and punches a bunch of robots for no reason?  She's regretting even agreeing to go on this date.  She should have know the minute his profile said his name was "Lars."  That's a red flag!

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Pulped, Part 4

The pulp cover are spicy and anatomically inaccurate today!

Lucille Ball seems pretty worried about whatever lurks in that coffin, but she needn't worry or call for Riiiiiiccccckkkkyyyyy (you've got to say it right or the joke doesn't work.  You think I'm going to do all the heavy lifting for you?  Kids!)

For that ... I don't know, light-green elderly man with red goggly-eyes? ... to fit in the coffin, they'd have to break his left arm in two places and saw off the right and reattach it to the top of his head with a couple bendy straws and some twist-ties.  It's not really threatening.  She's probably under more threat of her eyes popping out than getting attacked, though I assume that much mascara is probably gluing in those bulging peepers.

As she forced the coffin closed with her butt, I'm pretty sure Lucille was happy that she ate the whole box of ho-hos this morning.

Bonus medical mystery:

Bethany wanted to be a rootin' tootin' cowgirl, but every time she fired the six shooter it dislodged her right breast.  It was mighty painful case of the right breast OwlHoots.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Pulped, Part 3

Happy 4th of July, here's your side of What The #*&@^@(#?

Everybody in this picture seems embarrassed.  Cat-Wombat-Club guy is doing everything it can to just look straight ahead.  Don't look at her, you might break out laughing, and that is no way to conduct the silliest war this side of Venus.

Let's take a quick look at our heroine.
  • Had a bad mix up in the shower this morning between her regular shampoo and a big, heaping bowl of cake batter
  • Bewilderingly bad knife placement
  • Plastic cod piece conveniently molded into a vagina (in case she forgets the location)
I find it hard to believe that Dr. Seuss willingly loaned out his horn.