America – FUCK YEAH!
Seriously, why haven’t we officially changed our national anthem to that song yet? I would much rather hear that song before every sports event than our current national anthem.
Those who know me, know I like puppets. Especially fucking puppets. My obsession started early with The Muppet Show. As an adult, I moved on to the raunchy stuff…Meet the Feebles and even a real puppet porno from the 70s – Let My Puppets Come. (I used to have a bad eBay habit – don’t judge.) From there I got hooked on the hard stuff…like Black Devil Doll. Even so, I had managed to not see the single most popular movie with fucking puppets…until now.
So I’m coming to the party 8 years late. The world is a different place than it was in 2004. Kim Jong Il is dead. Osama bin Laden is dead. Alec Baldwin is skinny. But some things haven’t changed. Terrorists are still blowing shit up ALL THE TIME. Also…Michael Moore is still fat and Matt Damon is still retarded. So although Team America: World Police will be viewed by future generations primarily as a time capsule response to the post-9/11 Jingoism that pervaded (and some would argue STILL pervades) America, it’s still fucking funny as shit and will be funny as shit 50 years from now. Puppets blowing each other and passing out in a river of vomit will ALWAYS be funny, even after no one understands why a Broadway Musical where everyone has AIDS is hilarious.
We made the mistake of being lazy and watching it over Amazon Prime, instead of the unrated DVD, so apparently, I didn’t get to see puppets shitting on each other during sex. I guess that means I get to watch it again!
I’ve always had a soft spot for tiny killers, especially killer dolls. I also have a soft spot for complete filth…so is it any wonder that I snatched up the DVD for Black Devil Doll as soon as I passed the booth at Frightmare?
I am not even exaggerating – Black Devil Doll is utterly filthy. The only film that’s filthier is Pink Flamingos and that’s only because of the actual shit-eating and pretend (maybe?) bestiality. (Keep in mind, I haven’t seen Human Centipede yet.) Black Devil Doll stopped short of those two filth standards, but don’t let that disappoint you – there was plenty of filth to be had.
Black Devil Doll is inhabited by the spirit of an executed black militant serial killer, summoned by a bored girl playing with a Ouija Board. (Is it odd that my only personal experience with a Ouija Board was at a church lock-in? Who brings a Ouija Board to a church? Don’t worry, our summoning didn’t work.) Of course, the bored girl immediately starts blowing Black Devil Doll…isn’t that what you’d do? She falls in love with Black Devil Doll, but it all goes to shit when he decides he wants some strange. I could tell you about all the filthy things that Black Devil Doll does, but that would make it that less shocking. I’ll throw you a bone…that little fucker flushes the toilet while a girl is in the shower. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.
The DVD had lots of features – animated shorts, picture galleries and a couple of commentary tracks. There’s an audience reaction track – I’m curious if it’s just the sound of people vomiting then walking out of the film in disgust. There’s also the strangest anti-piracy public service announcement I’ve ever seen.
Black Devil Doll is Rated X, so it’s unlikely to show up on cable…but Netflix has it, so it isn’t too hard to find. Not for the faint of heart – lots of boobies and blood – but I promise you’ll be laughing the whole time.
“Why would she do something like that?”
That’s what my husband asked me after I forced him to watch Green Porno. My response was “Why wouldn’t she?” If someone asked me to dress up in spandex, wear a bug mask and hump a cardboard cut-out of a bumblebee, I would be all like, “Where do I sign up?”
Isabella Rossellini wears spandex and various bug masks as she acts out the mating habits of fireflies, bumblebees and earthworms, among other creatures. It’s all very Sesame Street, with special effects that entirely consist of construction paper, jello and fishing line. I’d hesitate to let my son watch it for a few more years. I don’t think he would take the male bumblebee’s penis breaking off inside of the female too well, although he would love the snail pooping on her own head. As a matter of fact, the snail sequence is my very favorite – do snails really have nipples?
I am going to go find a stoned person and make them watch Green Porno. It will totally fucking blow their mind.
I recently watched Elmo in Grouchland for the first of what may eventually be hundreds of times. It wasn’t that bad…but I’ll get back to you after viewing 793.
There’s not much plot – Elmo loses his favorite blanket and goes to Grouchland to find it. Yes, Grouchland is Oscar’s homeland – a place full of multicolored pastel grouches. Grouchland is also inhabited by two non-grouches – Mandy Patinkin, the evil blanket thief, and Vanessa Williams, the queen of trash. Mandy Patinkin was great…but I’m not sure what the purpose of Vanessa Williams was. All she did was wear a diaphanous gown and sing a song about trash.
I want to spend a few minutes talking about my son, the Elmo-holic. When Elmo hit the scene in the 90s, I scoffed at Sesame Street’s seemingly blatant attempt at Marketing to smaller children. How could they just add another muppet – blasphemy! I scoff no more. Let me tell you – Elmo is the best thing out there. I’ve been paying attention to what’s available for toddlers and pre-schoolers for a while – it’s a veritable wasteland. Barney’s full of feelgood hippie bullshit. The Teletubbies are only entertaining if you’re stoned (trust me on this one). The Wiggles are…well…Australian. Veggie Tales are super Christian – I won’t touch them with a 10 foot pole. Dora is alright for girls, I guess. So, having grown up on Sesame Street, Elmo is the logical choice. My kid did not give two fucks for Elmo a year ago. Then his Grammy got him one of those wild giggling, fucking maniacial, vibrating extreme Elmos. He still didn’t give a shit – in fact, I think he was scared of it. So we started him on a steady diet of Sesame Street. I bought him Elmo clothes, Elmo shoes, Elmo dolls, Elmo bandaids, Elmo books, Elmo diapers, Elmo crackers, Elmo DVDs, Elmo Bubble Bath…I’m telling you, I got this kid hooked on EVERYTHING Elmo. I am like the Pablo Escobar of Elmo. My reasoning is this…first off, Elmo keep the other fucks, like Barney, out of my house. Second, Elmo gives me control – I can use Elmo to get what I want out of my kid. He may not want to change his shirt right now, because it has just the right mixture of boogers and strawberry jam – it took him hours to get it that way. But I pull out an Elmo shirt – he’s naked in about 3 seconds. Elmo is the Great Persuader. And most importantly, I do a really killer Elmo voice…
I can’t believe I reviewed a fucking Elmo movie. This is probably the end of what little credibility I may have had left. I need to redeem myself – I wonder if Netflix carries Faces of Death?
I am from the ‘Muppet Show’ era. My favorite episode was the one with Liza Minnelli. In it, she and that big ugly monster (that I can never remember the name of) did a musical number to Copacabana. Imagine Liza Minnelli naked on rollerskates, smoking crack while the big ugly monster sells acid to schoolchildren in the Copacabana and that is the same general impression that you will get while watching ‘Meet the Feebles.’
An impressive first film by Jackson, ‘Meet the Feebles’ is out there. Nevertheless, he manages to use basic film conventions and story-telling techniques in the world of Vietnam Vet gators and AIDS-ridden bunny rabbits. The use of puppets always requires weird camera angles to hide the fact that you are indeed watching puppets, but many of the Feebles are a lot closer to human size, so the camera angles aren’t as funky as those in, say, ‘Star Wars’ or anything else involving Muppets.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…I dream for the day that some unsuspecting video clerk sees puppets on the video box and sticks ‘Meet the Feebles’ in the children’s section. We’ll have the next Charles Manson on our hands…