Cabaret Sin (Philip O'Toole, 1987)

Since no one living in 1980s could have foreseen what the world was going to look like in, say, forty or fifty years, there was only one thing the people in-charge of depicting the future for entertainment purposes could do. And that is, take the 1980s aesthetic and amplify it to point of mental and physical exhaustion. Now, I could be wrong, but I think that's exactly what the producers of Cabaret Sin (a.k.a. X-Trop) were trying to do when they came up with the look of this film. You see, without access to expensive special effects or elaborate sets, the makers of this particular (and highly peculiar) slice of pornographic sci-fi had no choice but to exploit the stylistic temperament of the fingerless glove era. Besides, in a weird way, high fashion hit its zenith during the 1980s. Meaning, everything that has occurred since, fashion-wise, has simply been a rehash of something from the '80s. So, in a strange sort of way, the clothes and hairstyles seen throughout this movie are in fact futuristic, even though they're over twenty years old. Let me put it this way: Anytime you see a woman with flat, lifeless hair with no personality, blame Jennifer Aniston. On the other hand, anytime you see a woman with short platinum blonde hair that's been shaved around the sides and back, thank Lois Ayres. Sure, the incomparable Miss Ayres isn't in this movie, but her life force is. Speaking of force, you could say Gail Force's "Shadow Dancer," who can be seen dancing behind a screen as Lorrie Lovett and Tom Byron fornicated on stage, is the director Philip O'Toole's subtle tribute to Lois Ayres.

Ah, I see your eyes lit up when I implied that Miss Lovett and Mr. Byron did the bulk of their fornicating on a stage. Well, this film, my friend, is the closet thing to a sequel to Café Flesh we're ever gonna get.

I know, you're out there screaming at your television: "They made a sequel to Café Flesh, two in fact, dumbass." That's true, they (not Rinse Dream, mind you) did make a couple of sequels, but I think Cabaret Sin is one of the few films that manages to truly capture the spirit of Café Flesh.

While the makers of Café Flesh were portraying a bleak future from the perspective of someone living in 1982, the makers of Cabaret Sin are living in 1987. In other words, they, the Cabaret Sin folks, had more of the 1980s to work with. It's true, you could say Café Flesh had a bit of an edge because its cast and crew were able to utilize fresh memories of the late 1970s (the late 1970s were nothing but a cocaine blur by the time 1987 rolled around), and they had the advantage of shooting on film (film looks better than video). But let's get real, in Cabaret Sin, the hair is bigger, the colours are bolder, the neon is brighter and the sex is hotter.

In Café Flesh, Marie Sharp doesn't even come close to touching Kevin James' well-traveled ball sack with her mouth. However, in Cabaret Sin, the captivating Leslie Winston devours every square inch of real estate Kevin James' well-traveled ball sack has to offer.

This is going to be the last time that I compare the two films. But it should be noted that Cabaret Sin is nowhere near as compelling as Café Flesh, as the former is severely lacking when it comes to acting and basic storytelling. It's just that I was simply taken with the fact a non-Rinse Dream directed film came somewhat close to duplicating the magic of Café Flesh.

In reality, while Cabaret Sin does owe a debt of gratitude to Café Flesh, the majority of the inspiration seems to come from Blade Runner.

Everything, from the Sean Young-esque manner in which Krista Lane smoked, to the part where a bouncer tells the film's lead that it's "time to die," before attempting to strangle him, practically screamed Blade Runner. Even the year the film supposedly takes place in screams Blade Runner. Sure, Cabaret Sin takes place in Los Angeles in 2020 (Blade Runner takes place in 2019), but it's close enough.

In charge of killing droids, Taylor (Greg Derek) is the best "Eliminator" there is. In sector 48 to conduct a routine clean up job, Taylor enters the Pleasure Dome, a club that features live sex shows. As he walks in, it looks like Kristara Barrington (who is dressed like a geisha) is about to get it on with a guy dressed as a samurai, but this scene was clearly cut out of the movie for unknown reasons.

Despite this hatchet job, the atmosphere of the Pleasure Dome is so '80s, it hurts. Seriously, my brain can't handle the amount of '80s-ness on display in this scene. I mean, the combination of punk and new wave hairstyles, neon signs and synth flourishes on the soundtrack are enough to send even most fervent apologists for the 1980s (from a pop culture standpoint) to the emergency room.

Every audience member looks the part, as they watch Lorrie Lovett dance in ancient Egyptian garb for a lengthy period of time. Slowly but surely, she removes most of her clothing (don't you dare remove those white stockings). This is obviously Tom Byron's cue to go on stage. I don't think I have to tell you what happens next. But you know what? I think I will anyway. Jumping on stage, after some playful dancing, Lorrie sucks Tom's cock. And, after making sure his balls have been licked up and down more than once, Lorrie allows Tom to enter her vagina. And what's the best way for a man to enter a woman's vagina? Yep, he uses his penis.

If you're thinking to yourself: This sounds like your typical sex scene. Wrong. The editing and the music is so off-kilter, you'll be too stimulated to even notice two people are fucking on stage.

Meanwhile, backstage, a droid (Kevin James) has sex on a pink bed with a female Pleasure Dome performer played by Leslie Winston. Ball licking, 69, sex in the spoon position, and a cum shot. The best thing about this scene, besides the fact Leslie has a great face, is that feathery mask Leslie wears when the droid enters her dressing room.

Unlike the replicants in Blade Runner, the droids in Cabaret Sin dress like bikers and wear masks with flashing red eye lights. "Flashing red eye lights"? Ugh, I guess that makes sense.

Thankfully, some plot points are laid out in the next scene (the scene between Kevin James and Leslie Winston seemed to serve no real purpose), as we learn that a killer droid is on the loose, one who is stealing decoders. Now, they don't explain what these decoders do exactly, but I did appreciate the attempt to lay down some sort of story structure. We're even introduced to Turk (Herschell Savage), the film's villain, a shady fella who runs his criminal empire out of the Pleasure Dome.

Let's take a moment, before it's too late, to bask in the exquisite thickness that Keisha's oomph-tastic body. Dancing on stage in a tight green dress, the curvy Keisha proceeds to give Candie Evens (who is wearing white stockings and a fedora) a series of gifts (lingerie mostly). After rejecting them all, Keisha decides to give Candie the gift that every woman wants. No, not a diamond ring, silly. She gives her cunnilingus. As you would expect, the audience laps this up, and show their appreciation by applauding loudly.

Skipping past the scene where Taylor boinks Candie Evens backstage, the film's greatest scene in terms of editing and having an original concept is the one where Bunny Bleu's "Tammy Dorsey" plays the trombone in a mini-raincoat and sequined leotard. Flanked by two guys blowing on trumpets, this scene has got so much going in terms of creativity, that it's kinda of a shame that Bunny had to stop blowing on her trombone and turn attention to blowing the two guys blowing on trumpets. Unable to receive a blow job and play the trumpet at the same time, the guys toss their horns into the audience.

The way one of the audience members started to play the trumpet tossed in his general direction immediately upon catching it was favourite non-Keisha moment in the entire film.

My least favourite moment is the scene where Leslie Winston and Tish Ambrose double-team Herschel Savage. The sight of Leslie Winston riding on top of Herschel's cock was great and all. But I didn't like the way Tish Ambrose (Corruption) and her first-class booty were filmed during this scene. What I mean is, we get no clear shots of Tish. This irked me beyond belief. It didn't ruin the movie for me, but it did put me in a sour mood for the rest of the flick's running-time. Sadly, Cabaret Sin is the closest thing we're ever going to get to a "Who's That Girl (She's Got It)" porn parody, so, savour it while it lasts.

Samurai Cop (Amir Shervan, 1989)

Using my unique power to look at stuff and combining it with my not-so unique ability to remember the stuff I just looked at with some degree of accuracy, I would say roughly around thirty henchmen are killed in Samurai Cop, the movie so awesome, it's comes with its own body bag. Wait, I don't like that. Let me try that again. ...in Samurai Cop, the movie so awesome, it watches you. Neither of them make any sense, but I prefer the latter. I like the idea of a movie that watches you, and believe me, this is one movie you don't want watching you, or maybe you do. Again, I don't know what that means exactly. Either way, who is going to pay for all those funerals? That's what I'd like to know. What funerals, you ask? The henchmen. Haven't you heard? Los Angeles is replete with dead henchmen. And to add insult to dead henchmen, their deaths were primarily the handy work of some long-haired no dick from San Diego. Why this Fabio wannabe in the jet black banana hammock felt the need to drive all the way up to L.A. to destroy the city's most precious resource is anyone's guess. But don't think for a San Diego minute the more jawed than usual residents of this fair city are going to sit idly by and let some namby-pamby Japonophile ruin everyone lives. You wanna know why? 'Cause they won't...sit idly by, that is. (First of all, since when has L.A.'s most precious resource been henchmen? I always thought it was spineless sycophants. And secondly, "more jawed than usual"? What the fuck does that mean?)

Oh, you're so naive. There's only one person on this earth that fits that jowl-centric description, and that is, the one, the only, Robert Z'Dar. Taking henching to a whole nother level, Robert Z'Dar is the ultimate henchman as Yamashita, the loyal warrior who carries out his orders using the samurai code.
  

Whether instructing lesser henchmen to attack his foes, riddling said lesser henchmen's bodies with bullets fired from an Uzi after they fail to attack said foes with the necessary fortitude, or engaging in sexual intercourse with female henchmen with red hair, Yamashita does everything with an exuberant brand of gusto.
  

(I'm curious, does it take Robert Z'Dar longer to shave than everybody else?) Don't be stupid, he clearly has a beard in this movie. (Okay, let me rephrase that. Does it take longer for Robert Z'Dar longer to trim his beard than everybody else?) While not as bad as your first question, it's still somewhat stupid. Therefore, I refuse to answer it.

Just to let you know, there are four sex scenes in this movie. Okay, before you start giving each other frat boy-style high fives, I feel I should warn you that I could have sworn I saw a hint of anus in at least three of them. (Boy anus or girl anus?) Girl anus. Don't look so relieved, you know you wanna see some or all of the Samurai Cop's smouldering butthole.
  

Now, you could say this was a direct result of lackluster filmmaking on the part of director Amir Shervan, but there's no way I'm saying that. A hint of anus is a part of everyday life. Take it away and what are you left with? (Less anus?!?) Exactly. And who wants to live in a world with less anus? (Not me?!?) You know it.
  

Here's a bold statement: Samurai Cop is better than every Andy Sidaris film combined. The women are hotter (strong, forthright feminists without an ounce of silicon), the action is more exciting, the music is synthier (the score reminded me of A Split Second, the Belgian band, not the Rutger Hauer movie), and the dialogue is definitely more crisp. (Wait, more crisp? Are you sure you're not talking about a head of lettuce?) No, I'm talking about dialogue.

They might not be an established gang yet, but Fujiyama, the leader of Katana (which means "Japanese sword"), plans to change all that when he sends his favourite henchmen, Yamashita (Robert Z'Dar), to meet with the leader of a rival Chinese gang in Chinatown. And by "meet with," I mean, he straight-up kills his ass.
  

If the scene that introduces us to Katana, a gang that also includes karate expert Okamura (Gerald Okamura) and the sultry yet dangerous Cameron (Krista Lane), seems to fly by at a sprinter's pace, the scene that introduces us to their primary adversaries seems like an epic slog by comparison. Two cops, who could be on the edge (the status of where they're standing edge-wise is not known to us when the film gets underway), named Joe Marshall (Matt Hannon) and Frank Washington (Mark Frazer), are in pursuit of a van that is purportedly transporting a shitload of cocaine.
  

Utilizing the help of Peggy Lee Thomas (Melissa Moore), a sexually aggressive police helicopter pilot (if you're about to chop off a big black cock, make sure to send it her way before you do so, as she doesn't like to see big black cocks go to waste), Joe and Frank chase down the cocaine van (in a scene that is reminiscent of the classic car chase in To Live and Die in L.A.), dispatching a couple of henchmen along the way.
  

After capturing the driver of the van (who was badly burned at the end of the chase), Joe points up at Peggy, as if to say, I'll see your pretty little anus later. And since their encounter is filmed, we get to see her pretty little anus as well.
  

I think the main reason we see so much anus in this film is because people often overestimate the capacity of the thong to keep your anus covered at all times. While it might provide the coverage our anus shy society requires whilst the thong-ensnared individual is standing in the upright position. However, once the person starts moving around in a manner the engineers at the thong laboratories had not foreseen, that's when things could get a tad rectal, if you know what I mean.
  

Exposed anus or not, I couldn't help but cheer Peggy on as she rode Joe's cock to Pleasuretown, Population: Her orgasm. I think I might have even yelled, "Ride that Samurai Cop, you horny bint!" at one point.
  

(Hold on, Joe's the "Samurai Cop" in Samurai Cop? Am I crazy, or does he not look Japanese?) Ah, you see, according to Yamashita, who is also not Japanese, Joe, while technically not Japanese, was trained by a martial arts master in Japan, is fluent in Japanese, and was sent to L.A. from San Diego to fight Katana.
  

Oh, he's from San Diego all right, but there's no fucking way he's fluent in Japanese. I mean, he can barely speak English. Anyway, after Yamashita is finished telling his boss all about this Joe fella, Fujiyama, his thick Japanese mullet fluttering with mullet-fueled rage, demands that the van driver's head be placed on his piano, so that all can see what happens to the Katana members who get captured (Katana have a strict "don't get captured or else" policy).

And guess who's in charge of retrieving his head, that's right, Yamashita. But how is Yamashita going to get past the security at the hospital? Don't worry, Cameron is going to pretend to be a nurse and wheel Yamashita in a cart covered with a white sheet. Keep on an eye of Krista Lane's legs as she and Z'Dar are leaving the hospital with the van driver's head in tow, her white stockings turn to taupe stockings in an instant.
  

Speaking of keeping an eye on things, make sure to take special note of Mark Frazer's acting as a sexy nurse mocks Joe's lack of cock when it comes to the size of his cock. His style of acting, if you can call it "acting," reminded me of Dean Learner from Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, in that he's not putting on an act, he's telling truth.
  

After one set back after another, Captain Roma  (Dale Cummings) finally tells Frank that he's had enough of this "moron from San Diego." (Did he just call the "Samurai Cop" a "moron" right in front of the "Samurai Cop"?) He sure did. (Damn, I like this guy's style. But why is he so grumpy?) Well, for starters, he's got this club up his ass, and he's having the darndest time trying to figure a way to get it out. Nonetheless, Frank manages to sweet talk the captain, giving them some more time to achieve the desired result. And that is, take down the Katana gang.

You wouldn't think it was possible given the garments dire reputation in the fashion world, but Melissa Moore is somehow able to make lady police pants look good.
  

Getting a tip that Fujiyama likes to hang out at The Blue Lagoon restaurant, Joe and Frank stop by to annoy him–you know, let him know where they stand. And it's during this stand knowing session that Joe gets his first look at Jennifer (Jannis Farley), the actual owner of The Blue Lagoon. It's clear by the way they smile at one another that Joe is going to woo the living crap out of her.
  

It should go without saying, but I'm going to to say it anyway, the sight of Robert Z'Dar reloading his Uzi is a beautiful thing. Oh, and the reason he needs to reload his Uzi is because he needs to spray The Blue Lagoon parking lot with copious amounts of hot lead. The flunkies he instructed to kick Joe's ass failed to do just that, so, he had no choice but to kill them.
  

The fact that the giant lion head on the wall in Jennifer's office does not come up once during Joe and Jennifer's conversation ("Hey, what's with the lion head?" or "Nice lion head.") is one of the reasons this film rules so hard.
  

As Joe, Frank and Peggy lay siege to Gerald Okamura's house, you'll notice two things: 1) We get another glimpse of a woman's anus; and 2) A bored Peggy asks a fellow officer he wants to "fuck." I can sort of understand the slight anus, as accidental anus is par for the course in this film, but why would Peggy ask a fellow officer to "fuck" right as they're about to take out an important henchmen's home? That's simple really, she likes sexual intercourse.
 

Out of all the funerals that are going to be held over the coming weeks for the dozens of henchmen and flunkies killed throughout this film, the one I would like to attend would have to be one for the "Go Watch the Other Door" henchman. What can I say, I really dug his style. The other cool thing about not only the "Go Watch the Other Door" henchman, but the other henchmen as well, was how each henchman died (i.e. fell to the ground after being shot) in a manner that was entirely unique.
 

The biggest mystery surrounding Samurai Cop was not the excessive amount of anal generosity, or the identity of the actress who plays "Sally," the leggy wife of a cop Z'Dar and the boys terrorize to learn the location of the "Samuari Cop," but the bandage on Melissa Moore's leg. Was the bandage part of her character's arc (a sex-related injury, perhaps?), or did Melissa Moore really cut her leg? If anyone runs into Melissa Moore, please tell her I'm concerned about her leg. Being that's it's not the 1980s anymore, I'm sure the cut has healed by now. But still, it makes you think.

Did I mention that Samurai Cop is better than every Andy Sidaris film combined? Oh, I did, eh? Well then, that's all you really need know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pretend that I'm about to attend a henchmen's funeral.

The Devil in Miss Jones 4: The Final Outrage (Gregory Dark, 1986)

The last time we saw Justine and her temperamental guide, they were standing before a man dressed as a lizard in tennis sneakers uttering the phrase, "suck me" everything ten to fifteen seconds. And, thanks to Monique Montage (your go-to gal for all your continuity needs in the Devil in Miss Jones mid-80s-era sequel universe), that's exactly where The Devil in Miss Jones 4: The Final Outrage starts off. After a brief refresher course detailing all the unsavoury business that transpired in The Devil in Miss Jones 3: A New Beginning, the fourth chapter, yet again under the watchful eye of Gregory Dark (New Wave Hookers), has Lois Ayres' Justine Jones and Jack Baker's Hell Guide doing what they do best: Arguing loudly in the most shrill and politically incorrect manner possible. This particular bit of contention revolves around giving the man-lizard (Kevin James, Johnny Rico from Café Flesh) fellatio. You see, in order to move forward through the bowels of Hell, someone needs massage this thing's penis with the contents of their mouth. And since Justine is the one who wants to continue on their journey, the sucking onus is placed squarely on her harmonious shoulders. Finally relenting after some intense soul searching, Justine drops to her well-defined knees and proceeds to treat the lizard-man's erect penis like it were a frozen treat of some kind.

After the lizard-man signifies that he has been properly gratified by spewing seminal fluid all over the pale lumps on Justine's chest, the film switches over to the documentary-style interviews that were so memorable in the previous chapter. Questioning people from Justine's past, an unseen interviewer asks a priest (Angst Argyle) with an ill-defined Eastern European accent, two ex-boyfriends (Tom Byron and the hilarious Robert Bullock), her uptight brother (Andy Nichols, Max Melodramatic from Café Flesh) and Justine's man-hating first lover (Tantala Ray, Moms from Café Flesh) to share intimate details about her life.

These interviews are the film's strongest non-sex-related element. Well, actually, the strange dynamic that develops between Justine and the loquacious Hell Guide is the film's greatest non-sex asset. But the interviews are definitely a close second. Everything from the acting to the quality of the writing crackled with an unexpected air of competence. I also found it quite telling that none of the interviewees (with the exception of Tom Byron) took part in any of the film's elaborate sex scenes. Speaking of not having sexual intercourse in pornography, I was impressed by the fact that Tantala Ray manages to appear in The Devil in Miss Jones 4: The Final Outrage and Café Flesh, two of the genre's best, and not once is she prodded with a penis. Good for her.

Meanwhile, back in Hell, Justine and her Hell Guide enter a room filled to the brim with horny weirdos of every stripe imaginable. Welcome to the Insane Asylum of Hell! A pungent place where sunglasses, dildos, studded collars, fake lesbians with methodically manicured crotches, and frilly bow-adorned ankle socks co-exist to harpsicord music. In other words, this sequence will take up a large chunk of your day. Mentally taxing, yet fascinating on a couple of unsanitary levels, this fiendish orgy features multiple participants feverishly hurling their lofty genitals at one another in a desperate attempt to become more moist.

Since there are so many people involved, and I'm not prepared to do the amount of legwork it would take to identify the various players, I'll just say that I got a perverse thrill every time a lacy fingerless glove would enter the extremely cramped frame. Even though the hands inside them were mainly focused on prying open flaps of crumpled skin, finishing off stubborn erections, or manipulating slabs of butt-cheek meat in order to gain better access to the rectal riches that lay beyond the crack, the gloves–some red, some white, none taupe, some black–were a joy to see no matter what the hands they covered were up to at any given moment. Because let's face it, sex can be terribly dull to watch some times. Lacy fingerless gloves, on the other hand (no pun intended), are never dull. Out of all the performers who appear in this exhaustive sequence, which included Ron Jeremy in black gloves with fingers and a diaper ("I've always wanted to lick your toes!"), Keli Richards, Steve Powers (who is dressed as a maid), and Erica Boyer (wearing an outfit with a school girl theme and white fingerless gloves), I'd have to say Krista Lane's shoeless nurse with the big hair was my favourite–you know, from a titillating point-of-view.

Taking on racism, incest, domestic violence, and issues involving gender and other seltsamkeit, The Devil in Miss Jones 4: The Final Outrage may be crude and a tad lewd at times, but it repeatedly goes places where most adult films are too afraid to venture. Sure, the scene where two racists are forced to fornicate with members of races they purportedly hate isn't the most subtle jab at bigotry I have ever seen. But the amount of courage it took to stage something so potentially incendiary needs to be at least acknowledged.

In the so-called "Racist Room," Patti Petite, playing a "Southern Belle," lets two "Zulu" warriors (F.M. Bradley and Robbie Dee) stuff her holes with their erect penises. And while that doesn't sound all that interesting (holes are being stuffed all the time), Patti's character, according to the Hell Guide, apparently despises black people. If that premise isn't scratching you where you itch, turn up the new wave-tinged music on the soundtrack and do what I did, try to make out the outline of Patti's feet, which are encased in a pair of white fishnet stockings. On the other side of the racist spectrum, a male bigot (Marc Wallice) finds himself in a situation where his slippery wiener is being double-teamed by Krista Barrington from New Wave Hookers and Purple Passion (Let Me Tell Ya 'Bout Black Chicks). I loved the way Kristara's red stockings seemed to get more and more torn as the scene progressed. It reminded me of this incident in Grade 5 when this freckle-faced girl jumped up on a table and pulled up her corduroy... Wait a minute! How do you know the man's the bigot? Just because he's white? Well, to keep us from becoming confused as to who's the racist, Marc wears a crudely made swastika arm band.

I couldn't help but notice that Gregory Dark seem to share Rinse Dream's disdain for the audience's erection. The way Mr. Dark would insert shots of Jack Baker carrying on like the demented jackass that he is during the sex scenes has led me to believe that the crafty filmmaker would rather be concentrating on the film's story. And let's face it, if it weren't for the crazy hairstyles, chichi handwear, and scrumptious lingerie the sex would have been unbearable.

A closeup shot of a faceless appendage plunging into an equally faceless Cutlass Ciera is nowhere as interesting as the hairs sitting atop Lois Ayres' gorgeous,well-proportioned head. Seriously, every time Lois and her cutting edge hairdo would show up on-screen, my spirit would soar. At any rate, the whole, "I'm not dead!" followed by "You're dead, bitch, and this...is Hell!" exchange that is cornerstone of this skull-laden* enterprise comes to a head when Justine and the Hell Guide (sporting yellow gloves with fingers) are seen, yet again, "discussing" (arguing loudly about) her unique predicament.

Bored with the sameness of the Hell Guide's anecdotes (they all seem to involve floating asses, huge disembodied dicks and talking pig heads), Justine wanders into "The Taboo Room" and comes across something quite disturbing. Of course, I don't want to say exactly what she comes across in there, but let's just say, it's not something you'd want to see on a regular basis. I will say, however, that Lois looked fabulous in a strategically ripped white mess top (one that is beautifully offset by a red bra and lacy red fingerless gloves), silver jewelry (multiple rings, sparkily earrings and a no-nonsense necklace), and a pair of dependable black pumps (three words: ample toe cleavage). Oh, and the hair and makeup by Ruby Midnight and Les Ismore's costume design really shine in this particular sequence.

With an ending similar to that of the original New Wave Hookers (oddly surreal with a touch of menace), The Devil in Miss Jones 4: The Final Outrage may be hampered by overlong sex scenes (and not enough of them featuring Lois Ayres), but the killer music, pseudo-documentary style, bold hairstyles, alluring fashions, and the unrefined wordplay that takes place between Lois Ayres and Jack Baker are real reason to devour this chapter of the epic series. A must-see for fans of Rinse Dream, 1980s pop culture, or anyone who loathes mainstream pornography.

* The comically named Pez D. Spencer (Mr. Joy from Café Flesh) is the film's production designer, and the amount of time he spent combing the head shops of Sunset Blvd. looking for skulls must have been off the charts. Or maybe he just used the same two skulls over and over again? Hmmm, that is almost interesting.

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"God bless the Yumster for all ye have given the children of the world, these fables of cocks and flames and hairspray and shit." ~ Thomas Duke

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