Slime City Massacre (Greg Lamberson, 2010)

Whenever I hear someone call a woman (or a man) a "dirty whore," they're usually way off the mark. First of all, they're not dirty (you could eat an entire bucket of day-old escargot off their immaculately manicured taints and not even get as much as a head cold). And secondly, they're not whores. Sure, they perform sex acts for money. But everyone does that, and everyone can't be a whore, now can they? Judging by the sly expression on your face, I think you know what I'm going to say next. Well, I just watched Greg Lamberson's Slime City Massacre, the long awaited sequel to his Slime City, a.k.a. one of the greatest horror films of all-time, and it, my friend, is literally stuffed to the gills with dirty whores. It's true, we could sit here all day and debate the merits of the film from a technical point-of-view, but the fact that the whores that populate this post-dirty bomb hellscape were covered in copious amounts of dirt caused my spirit to soar. Of course, some might say Greg Lamberson went a little overboard when it came to the soiling the prostitutes seen throughout this movie. But let's not forget, there's no running water in this universe. They could, I suppose, bathe in that tub of orange goo that used to be the vivacious Debbie Rochon. But, as everyone knows, orange goo dries out your skin. And no-one wants to penetrate a dirty whore with dry, ashy skin (trust me, I know).

Then again, if I saw a pre-orange goo Debbie Rochon walking around Slime City with dirty legs, I would be the first to volunteer to lick them clean.

It should be noted that I'm not implying that Debbie Rochon is a dirty whore. Everyone, whether they be a dirty whore, a fat fuck or an unkempt Debbie Rochon, is covered in filth. Being unclean is normal in this world.

If that's the case, what's up with Alexa (Jennifer Bihl), her gams are spotless?

You could argue that since her character is new to the area, her legs haven't had time to get sufficiently begrimed.

However, as anyone who has seen the film knows, Alexa's mouth-watering stems remain clean from start to finish. Actually, they do turn pink later on in the film. But still, being pink isn't the same as being dirty.

While the solution for dirty legs is good old fashion soap and water (or my tongue), the solution for pink legs, or, in Debbie Rochon's case, orange legs, is good old fashion murder.

Along with her boyfriend, Cory (Kealan Patrick Burke), Alexa thinks they may have found a new home in post-apocalyptic New York City when they stumble upon the ruins of an old apartment complex dubbed "Slime City" by its residents. Little do they know that a Flesh Cult started in the late 1950s by Zachary Devin (Robert C. Saban), a deceptively affable fellow, used to perform rituals and throw wild sex orgies in the building's basement.

Instead of dying, the cult members turn themselves into ectoplasmic slime, which is placed in tubs labeled "Himalayan Yogurt." And when this "yogurt" is ingested along with Zachary Devin's Home Brewed Elixir by non-cult members, the spirit of the dead Flesh Cult member enters their body, which immediately begins to ooze iridescent slime.

In the case of Alexa, it's pink slime. In the case of Cory, it's green slime. As I mentioned earlier, Debbie Rochon oozes orange slime. And Debbie's boyfriend, Mason (Lee Perkins), he oozes blue slime.

In order to placate, or, appease the slime, the slimee must kill. If you listen to the way Cory and Mason are carrying on, that doesn't seem to be a problem, as this dump is crawling with lowlifes to kill. But Alexa isn't all that thrilled with idea of killing people (even if they are lowlifes) to help stave off the melting process.

Welcome to Slime City: Come for the not-so scenic views, stay for the radioactive yogurt.

Side effects from eating radioactive yogurt may include: Involuntary spasms, syrupy iridescent discharge, structural paralysis and full body moistness.

It's true, while the majority of these side effects might not sound all that pleasant on paper, have you ever had sexual intercourse while experiencing full body moistness? It's quite the scene, man.

Anyway, no wonder...

...Alexa's legs are so...

...silky smooth...

She moisturizes with slime.

Make all the boys cream their chinos and use slime on your legs as a part of your daily beauty regimen.

Seriously, not only do her legs never get dirty, they look like they were bathed in a lavender-scented cesspool.

Exploring the history and the future of the Slime City mythos in a manner that is both entertaining (Debbie Rochon spends the bulk of the movie as a puddle of orange of sludge) and enlightening (I had no idea blow jobs were a thing in 1959... I always had this idea in my head that sex was strictly vaginal back then), Slime City Massacre is a sleazy, grimy, and, most importantly, slimy, treat for the whole family. Okay, maybe not the whole family, but maybe a small subset of your family (your perverted Uncle __ and your deranged Aunt ___ will eat this shit up).

Boasting a cool shout out to Basket Case ("What's in the basket?"), a kick ass opening credits sequence (artwork by Stephen Romano), the return of Mary Huner-Bogle (the leggy enchantress from the original), a great location (an abandoned warehouse in Buffalo), cool props (the book "Flesh Control: The Shape of Pleasure" being my fave), awesome extras (I loved how dirty the hookers looked), kinky sex (Mason fingers Alice's orange puddle at one point), and, of course, a Lloyd Kaufman cameo (Roy Frumkes, writer of Street Trash, has small part as well), I would say that Slime City Massacre does the first film proud and then some.

Hanger (Ryan Nicholson, 2009)

Bathed in perpetual darkness, the world of Hanger is no place for those who menstruate on a semi-regular basis. And, no, not just because a deformed tampon enthusiast of Chinese decent will most likely use your bloodstained rag to make tea with, it's simply not safe out there for whores with working uteruses. Crawling with track-suit-wearing pimps, drug addicts, disfigured basket cases, skankier than usual prostitutes and puss-laden psychopaths, Ryan Nicholson's... (Don't forget Lloyd Kaufman in pink knee-high fishnet stockings.) Ugh, don't remind me. There are plenty of disgusting images in this movie, but I have to say, the sight of Lloyd Kaufman as a transgender prostitute getting his dick burned on a stove is at the top of the list of things I'd like to forget. Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, Ryan Nicholson's Hanger. Crawling with the stuff I just cited (pimps, hookers, psychos, etc.), the full-time make-up artist, part-time sick fuck follows up his extremely heinous Gutterballs with a film so vile, so egregious, that–yep, you guessed it–I can't help but admire it; parts of it, anyway. Don't get me wrong, I'll continue to pretend every now and then that I was deeply shocked by what I saw transpire throughout this back-alley abortion masquerading as cinema. But damn, it's so fucking sleazy. And let's get real, I can't hate a movie that features one of the most offensively hilarious characters in movie history.

The amount of discomfort I felt as we're introduced to Wade Gibb's Russell was off the bleeding charts. At first I thought his character, a junkyard employee who loves beer and porn, was merely retarded; which he sort of is. However, when the other characters started referring to his Chinese heritage, I became slightly bewildered. Oh my God, he's supposed to be Chinese?!? I thought to myself. And you don't have to be a genius to figure out that Wade Gibb  isn't Chinese.

Yet, despite his total lack of credentials in the being Chinese department, Wade Gibb manages to win the audience over by giving a strangely endearing performance.

Actually, I don't know about that. Oh, and I don't mean to imply that I'm wrong about Wade Gibb's brave performance. What I mean is, I don't think a huge chunk of the audience will be able to make it past the coat-hanger abortion scene.

Occurring near the fifteen minute mark, the coat-hanger abortion scene has a close-up shot of a wire hanger being inserted into a vagina. Even though the vagina in question is clearly fake, the scene will be too disturbing for some people.

At any rate, the sight of three hookers (who vary in degree of attractiveness) watching Class of Nuke 'Em High on television is the first thing we see as Hanger gets underway. This is a dicey decision on Ryan Nicholson's part, as some folks will no doubt wish they had watched Class of Nuke 'Em High instead of this non-life affirming piece of filth.

Adding a smidgen of class to the proceedings, the always vivacious Debbie Rochon plays Rose, a down on her luck prostitute who is pregnant. Constantly hassled by her pimp Leroy (Ronald Patrick Thompson), Rose (whose jet black hair is crimped - yeah, baby) finds solace with a John named... well, let's just call him John (Dan Ellis).

Promising to get straight, Rose tells John she has turned a corner and is ready to become a mother. Unfortunately, Leroy doesn't want her get to her shit together. And after killing Rose in a cheap motel room, Leroy then rips her unborn baby out of her womb with a coat-hanger and throws it in a nearby dumpster.

Fast-forward to eighteen years later and that baby is now a physically and emotionally scarred freak living on the streets.

On his eighteenth birthday, the deformed freak, who goes by the name, Hanger (Nathan Dashwood), is picked up by John in his truck. It's not clear yet if John is Hanger's father. But as John says about his relationship with his mother: "I always left my deposit with the box, not the teller." Meaning, he preferred to ejaculate his semen into Rose's vagina whenever they had sexual intercourse. Which, according to John, was quite often.

Getting Hanger a job at a recycling plant and a place to live, John seems to have the kid's best interests at heart. Oh, and given that Hanger's face is deformed as a result of his irregular birth, Hanger dresses like a member of The KLF whose been crossbred with a Belarusian sniper.

Even through he sees himself as a "good guy," make no mistake, John is a huge scumbag. Think I'm kidding? Just ask the poor hooker whose head he crushed with the door of his truck. You see, to celebrate Hanger's eighteenth birthday, John decides to fix up him with a prostitute. Well, after the working girl in the shiny black thigh-high high heel boots gets one look at Hanger, she kinda loses it. Of course, I'm not saying she deserved to have her head smashed for reacting that way. I'm just saying... Actually, I have no idea what I'm saying.

When I saw John Leslie's "slanty-eyed" make-up in Femmes de Sades, I was truly horrified. Yet, part of me was a tad forgiving since it was 1976. I know, that's no excuse. But c'mon, man, they didn't know any better back then. Okay, so, what's the deal with Wade Gibb's Russell, Hanger's "slanty-eyed retard" roommate/co-worker? What I'm getting at is: It's 2009. How was this allowed to happen?

The tone I'm currently employing is not too self-righteous, is it? Nonetheless, I liked the subplot that involved that Russell collecting the used the tampons that belong to a female co-worker named Nicole (Candice Lewald), the so-called "trash princess."

Um, I'm sorry, but Nicole isn't the trash princess in this film. No, that title belongs to the gorgeous Stephanie Walker, who, I think–Nadia Grey is credited as a character called "Smashy"–plays "Trashy." Now, I'm not just crowning Trashy the "trash princess" because she's called "Trashy," she is truly a trash princess.

Don't believe me? Well, her first line of dialogue has her listing the prices of the various services she provides. "Head is 20, pussy is 80 and anal is 200," she forthrightly informs John, who is looking to exact revenge on Leroy for what he did to Rose and Hanger.

If that isn't proof enough, Trashy pulls down her black fishnet pantyhose, wipes her vagina with her hand, and smears said hand all over John's face.

What?!? You're still not convinced. After Leroy leaves the room, Trashy pulls down her black fishnet pantyhose (every action she does in this movie, by the way, seems to involve her pulling down her black fishnet pantyhose), shoves her beautiful ass in John's face, and proceeds to cut three or four juicy farts.

If Ryan Nicholson had any sense, he would have made Trashy the star of the film, as anyone with a half a brain can see that Stephanie Walker/Nadia Grey is super-talented. But alas, we have to endure scenes that involve wound rape, gay rape, soiled diaper fights, crab humour, douche-noozle homicide, blow torch torture, tampon tea taste tests, female masturbation, chubby Jehovah's Witnesses, and the mass consumption of beer and porn.

Oh, and Trashy doesn't have "cirrhosis of the taco," as Leroy crudely states at one point during the film. She's a delicate flower who deserves to be pampered. Of course, no one is pampered in Hanger. It's puerile, disgusting and crass.

Father's Day (Astron-6, 2011)

You're watching a low budget, high concept cinematic love letter to incest, unorthodox chainsaw usage, daddy rape, transvestism, maple syrup, cock-based cannibalism, taint rearranging synth flourishes and black stockings, then, virtually out of nowhere, the lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything decides to throw a plate of shrimp directly in your face. Seriously, as Twink (the hunky Conor Sweeney) tries his hand at heterosexuality, I spotted a plate of shrimp. Of course, I wouldn't say the moment the plate of shrimp appears on-screen was the moment I became officially enamoured with Father's Day, the gory sleaze-fest from Astron-6 that will no doubt cause you think twice the next time you have a hankering to take your penis out for recreational purposes. No, I'd say the exact moment came when we get a wonderfully warranted camera pan down one of the sexy, black stocking-encased legs attached to the equally sexy Chelsea (Amy Groening, the chick who sang O Canada badly but acted like she nailed in the movie Goon). However, I took the plate of shrimp incident to be a subtle message to not just fans of Repo Man, but to all those who appreciate the finer things in life. And, as most people know, the finer things in life include: Incest, unorthodox chainsaw usage, daddy rape, transvestism, maple syrup, cock-based cannibalism, taint rearranging synth flourishes and black stockings.

Looking over the finer things I just cited, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the concept of daddy rape as a finer thing. I mean, call me overly sensitive, but I think daddy rape is wrong. That being said, the idea of a demented sicko with ties to the cannibalism and Satanism communities running around town raping and killing fathers is inherently funny. Okay, maybe it's not roll around on the carpet funny, but it's definitely an interesting idea for a movie.

And the cool thing about the Fuchman (Mackenzie Murdock), the cannibalistic fatherfucker in question, is that you don't have to look like Ward Cleaver for him to rape and kill you. Uh-uh, if you have impregnated a human female, you will quickly find that your beloved asshole is no longer a one way street. Meaning, your... What's that? You know what I mean? Oh, good.

Anyway, for those who don't know what I mean: Every man who has fertilized an egg recently better keep tabs on their precious anuses, because the Fuchman straight-up wants to destroy the structural integrity of your rectum by pounding into it with his scabby, hormone-addicted sore of a penis.

As the film opens, we see some unfortunate soul's anus being pounded in the very fashion I just unnecessarily described. Body parts being sawed off, entrails being consumed, anuses being pounded into hamburger, Father's Day declares itself as a squeamish-free zone right from the get-go.

After a pretty kick ass opening titles sequence, the film sets about fleshing out the character of Twink (Coner Sweeney), a male prostitute with some mild to moderate daddy issues. And we get some insight into these issues almost immediately when we see Twink, via flashback, being driven to work by his dad. And by "work," I mean the nearest street corner.

When Twink gets out of his dad's car, he's says something to affect of "fuck you." Well, those will be Twink's last words spoken to his dad, as Twink's dad is about to come face-to-face with the Fuchman. However, you shouldn't take the term "face-to-face" too literally, as the dads rarely ever face the Fuchman, as he prefers to mount them from behind.

Dosed with gasoline, the Fuchman sets Twink's dad on fire (fuck 'em and set 'em on fire, that's the Fuchman way). And since people who are set on fire aren't usually the type to sit still and burn to death, Twink's dad runs screaming from his house, where a shocked Twink looks on in horror. It's at this moment that Astron-6 team unleash the mother of all synth flourishes. Seriously, the synth flourish employed at this moment is off the charts in terms of being a deep, penetrating attack of synthy goodness.

Introduced to one character with a grudge against the Fuchman, it's time to meet another. And that one just happens to be Father John Sullivan (Matthew Kennedy), a young idealistic priest who's been put in charge of looking after the now fatherless Twink. Unable to get through to Twink, Father Sullivan confides with Father O'Flynn (Kevin Anderson), a blind priest dying in the church basement.

It's here that Father Sullivan is told to go out and find Ahab (Adam Brooks), the only man who can stop the Fuchman. And, after scouring the globe, Father Sullivan discovers Ahab living in a cabin in the woods. Content with tapping trees and making maple syrup, Ahab doesn't seem all that interested in being pulled back into the daddy anus compromising world of the Fuchman (he's been down that road before). But, after wearing him down, Father Sullivan somehow manages to convince Ahab to get back on the horse.

And just like that, a male prostitute, a priest and a bearded man with an eye-patch walk into a strip club looking for The Father's Day Killer, a.k.a. The Cannibal Man Killer, The Fat Boy Fucker and The Cannibal Cock Killer.

Well, Ahab walks into the strip club, Father Sullivan is waiting in the car ("Don't ever call a man a tree"), and Twink hasn't joined the team yet. At any rate, the reason Ahab is at the strip club, The Low Life Club, is to see Chelsea (Amy Groening), his long lost sister and a bit of a Fuchman expert in her own right; after all, her father was raped and murdered by the Fuchman, too.

The black garter belt suspender tearing across thigh flesh we see as Ahab goes backstage at the Low Life Club doesn't belong to Chelsea, but to a character credited as "The Chainsaw Ripper (Zsuzsi). But don't worry, we see Chelsea wearing lingerie (black stockings and a garter belt) seconds later.  Whew!

Oh, and if you're worried that Father Sullivan might be feeling left out–you know, since his father wasn't raped and murdered by the Fuchman–don't, as Father O'Flynn should be getting a visit from the Fuchman any minute now. I know, Father O'Flynn isn't technically his father, but he is a "father figure" to the young priest, and in the topsy-turvy world of raping and murdering fathers, that's close enough.

The synth flourish that accompanies the delivery of Father O'Flynn's severed head in a box is as thick and robust as a well-aimed volley of explosive diarrhea.

It's when Twink's friend Walnut (Garrett Hnatiuk) gets his penis bitten off and consumed by the Fuchman (seconds after he announces that his girlfriend is pregnant), that Ahab starts to get serious about killing the Fuchman. It's not that he cares about Walnut or his penis (which is passing through the Fuchman's digestive system as we speak), but the fact that his sister almost fell victim to the Fuchman.

In order to distract Detective Stegel (Brent Neale), who is always sniffing around, Chelsea flashes some black stocking top adjacent thigh skin at him. Working like a charm, Ahab and Twink, and later Father Sullivan, are able to team up and form the ultimate Fuchman busting outfit this side of Wawa.

Dirt road car chases, campfire stories, kung-fu flashbacks, chainsaw-wielding strippers, toe painting, do it yourself penis alteration, abandoned water parks, a trailer for Star Raiders, a plate of shrimp, sexual confusion, motel sex (incestuous motel sex), peppering Satanists with copious amounts of gunfire, dream sequences, heavenly angels in stockings (the dark-haired angel lurking/beckoning in the background on the left in the black garter belt without panties was sexy as hell), and a trip to Hell, Father's Day delivers all this and more, as the final third is packed to the gills with copious amounts of scum-laden weirdness.

Will the Fuchman, a.k.a. the Fuchmanicus, ever be stopped, who's to say? All I know is, if I was a teenage girl, I would have a poster of Twink in my locker at school. Syrupsly, I love a man who can rock a pink headband.