Please be patient while we load the Moist Twat...
Troll 2… “One Was Not Enough!”

Troll 2. Absolutely, the worst movie you will ever see. Nothing about this movie makes sense. Every scene will leave you confused, offended, angry, and helplessly awkward. 

But trust me… you’ll sit down and watch all 135 minutes of it. 

Before you start the movie, know this… There is not a Troll 1. The title was changed from “Goblin” to Troll 2 in an attempt to draw an audience from a previously established horror film entitled “Troll”, which was released four years earlier. Another thing, there are no trolls involved with this production… there are only goblins… vegetarian goblins.

The film starts off immediately. Bluntly dragging you into a random storyline of a “courageous boy” named Peter, who is being stalked by goblins in a forest. He soon realizes he is being watched, and “to make a long story short, Peter started to run, and run.” Then comes the beginning of a glorious soundtrack, rumored to have been recorded solely through the use of a vintage 80’s Casio keyboard. At that very moment, you begin to smile. You think, holy shit this is terrible… but I want more. 

Oh… you will get more. 

The opening narrator, creepy Grandpa Seth, informs you that the goblins frequently take the form of other humans. They trick people into eating delicious bowls of green goo (strangely resembling green gak… that sticky fad from the mid 90’s). Upon consumption, this substance would turn a human into half-man half-plant… the goblins’ favorite food, of course. The transformation is gruesomely overdone, with green goo pouring out of orifices (mainly from the forehead?), sticks growing from hands and tearing through skin. 

As the film continues… you experience a whirlwind of nonsensical ‘plot-lines’ as a typical American family swaps their home with a goblin family from the town Nilbog… yes Nilbog. “NILBOG IS GOBLIN SPELLED BACKWARDS!” 

There’s really only so much one can say… So please, enjoy the show.

And the 2010 Car and Driver Award for Safest Ad Campaign goes to Toyota.

And the 2010 Car and Driver Award for Safest Ad Campaign goes to Toyota.

Honorable Mention: Kia. In their most recent ad campaign, they quite humbly suggest that you’d probably rather drive a Kia than a toaster… or a cardboard box… or a washing machine…

First and foreskin: any car commercial that incorporates some 90’s Native Tongue freshness is safe in my book. Plus, meek is far more appealing than downright aggressive.

Soccer Dog: The Movie

In my infinite curiosity, I purchased this charming gem from Cub Foods on my last trek before graduating.  I was intrigued: “The Movie”?  What previous iterations has this wonderful canine embarked upon as to warrant a subtitle?  I have yet to watch it, but here are some Netflix reviews of this Air Bud spin-off.  
    I have seen/rated over 1,500 movies on this site. I can safely say that this was the very worst of them. Horrid acting, terrible dialogue. Maybe that was to be expected, but it wasn’t even silly, or cute enough for the kids to enjoy. Instead it was a lot of creepy adults yelling, and looking ominous in every other scene. My 6 & 10 year olds have never told me to turn off a movie before. Well they were begging me too! I finished the rest later just to give it a fair shake. It didn’t deserve it.
    This is the first time I have truly felt the need to write a review of a movie. This movie was terrible on so many levels I dont know where to begin. I foolishly looked at only one review of this movie and, looking at that same review again, I would guess the P.R. people from the movie actually wrote it. I really don’t know if it was the weird dog catcher and most of the other bad characters or the fact that one of the adults drugged a kid so his own kid could try and throw the game that bothered me most.
And, the sequel:
   The stereotypes of the Scottish are insulting terrible. I would not recommend this film for anyone.

Nobody Gets Hurt

Andreas Stoehr

You don’t want to die alone. But you’re not willing to do anything to avert that potentiality. You just run around in the mud like a sweating scaredy-cat who’s not sure, but thinks he might dreaming. Coward! Coward! Coward! Coward! Coward!

Pursued by madmen, you are. And they’re wielding household implements of destruction, ranging from the shiny new hedge clippers you see displayed on the left (bought for cheap, they were) to the rusty old wire cutters on the right (their origin, meanwhile, has been lost amongst this building’s many stories). They have a large repertoire of mechanical devices, all sort of rigged together into one compound device that’s intent on your personal demolition, you see? So run, now. Run and run and run, because you won’t get a second chance.

You sat and watched TV, and wasted the last chance you had. You sat there at the foot of your bed, a pair of wayward slippers tossed into the corner of that drab room, and your eyes drifted upward – upward – up to the ceiling, up to the – what were you looking at? You weren’t looking at the TV, we know that; we’ve analyzed the videotape and we know that you were not, in fact, looking at the TV. Those were lies, and we know this, because we’ve checked the surveillance footage. What was on the ceiling? Was it a clue about the future? Was it telling you something? We can stay here all day. But you sure as hell can’t.

We can play your every memory back to you, if you want. Is that what you want? I don’t think you want that. You have a lot of painful memories, and we can play those, too, if you’re not careful. Dammit, man, pay attention! This isn’t some game. You’re sitting in a circular room right now, a room without a single corner, and a man’s voice – this voice – is speaking to you. It’s demanding that you cooperate, or else we’re going to show you some things you’d thought you’d successfully forgotten. But you can’t forget, can you? Forgetting hurts almost as much as remembering. You’re a compulsive.

You’ve been asking us right along if this is a nightmare, or if it’s just real life. We’d give you the answer, but these types of questions are so dreadfully boring that we’re not sure it’s worth our time. Now listen carefully: I said listen carefully, I was about to tell you something! Then you stuck your finger in your ears and refused to cooperate. Noncooperation will get you nowhere. I think precisely 17 more hours in the “oven” should do the trick. Then back into the yard, back to the madmen, and back to “real life.”

Bonus: Sonnet-to-Haiku 29

Sometimes my life sucks.

But I remember your love,

And things are awesome.

———————————-

"A hootenanny is when a bunch of guys get together with a bunch of banjos in a cabin. That’s a hootenanny."

— Gangles Bojangles

"Hootenanny is an Appalachian colloquialism that was used in early twentieth century America to refer to things whose names were forgotten or unknown. In this usage it was synonymous with thingamajig or whatchamacallit, as in “hand me that hootenanny.” Hootenanny was also an old country word for party."

— Wikipedia

The Rules of Hootenanny

Hootenanny is a simple game with myriad variations. In its most basic form the rules are as follows:

Materials (figure 1)

  • 1 or more Pitchers
  • 3 or more Drinkers (with cups)
  • 16-20 Bar Coasters

Instructions

Coasters must be doled out to each of the drinkers. It is paramount to ensure that this process is referred to as doling, and not dealing. Each drinker should have roughly the same amount of coasters. Each drinker must adopt the game’s mood (figure 2).

Each drinker’s cup must be topped off with beer. Each pitcher should be close to full. The first drinker (arbitrarily chosen), must make one attempt at flipping and catching one or more of his coasters (action series, figures 3-5). 

For every coaster he successfully flips and catches, he must dole out a Mississippi second of drinking with the respective coaster he caught (figures 6 and 7).

 

For every coaster he attempts to flip but fails to catch, he himself must drink one Mississippi second, and must keep the respective coaster in his possession (figures 8 and 9). 

With that, his turn is over, and the next drinker, the drinker to his immediate right, begins his turn (assuming that the next drinker is not coaster-less, in which case his turn is skipped).

At any point during gameplay, any drinker may call “Hootenanny” (figure 10, attached sound clip). 

At this call, every drinker must hand all of his coasters to the caller. The caller must then attempt to flip all of the game’s coasters at once. If the drinker is successful in catching all of the coasters, he must dole out the remainder of the beer in each of the pitchers (figures 11-13).

If he fails, he must drink the remainder of the beer himself (figures 14-16). Thus ends Hootenanny.

If at any point during gameplay a single drinker finds himself in possession of all of the coasters, he is immediately subject to a compulsory hootenanny.

If the legitimacy of a flip is in question, any drinker may point at any other drinker, who must subsequently call the flip either Safe or Out (using appropriate baseball umpire gestures), regardless of whether that drinker witnessed the ambiguous flip. Thus ends the dispute.

In the off chance that the remainder of the beer (in the pitchers) is poured into a drinker’s cup at any point during the game, rendering all of the pitchers empty, the game immediately ends. Every drinker must subsequently finish his beer. 

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

The Obliviates, Live at the Cave

Tales of Zombies (in Inverse Haiku form)

The zombies arrived at dawn.

My neighbors still slept.

That day they awoke undead.

————————————

My family of warriors

was one of the last

These are the tales of our doom.

————————————

My mother threw a hand grenade.

The zombie blew up,

but its blood got in her mouth.

————————————

Killing zombies with shotguns,

my arm was bitten,

so, weeping, I hacked it off.

————————————

Later, I saw my mother,

dead-eyed and bloody,

and slit my wrist in despair.

————————————

Nora burned out the stairway.

Zombies kept creeping

but fell into the basement.

————————————

Fearing the pit of zombies,

Nora stayed upstairs.

Eventually, she starved.

————————————

My dad was the most clever.

He fled to the coast

and began to build a boat.

————————————

One day, wading through the driftwood

 he found a U-boat

from Russia, full of corpses.

————————————

Not as dead as they had seemed,

the Kremlin zombies

leapt at him and ate his brains.