One of the things that always bothered me about Pulp Fiction is how not pulp it is. It should be called 1970's Paperback Crime Novel Fiction because it resembles the works of George V. Higgins and Shane Stevens more than Walter Gibson or Arthur Leo Zagat. Where's the death ray, Quentin? Where's the villain's hidden lair? Where's the casual racism?

...oh, you got that one right but missed all the death rays? Unless it's revealed that what's inside Marcellus Wallace's…

A tale of two reviews!

My unpublished review from 9/27/2024 that I forgot about:

The minute a guy who looks like a middle school social studies teacher shows up and hails Satan, I knew this was a winner. Even the wrestling scenes tickled me in this one (Blue Demon vs. The Hippie being a highlight because I like watching the hippie get tossed around the ring). Santo wears a beautiful cape, a slick sports coat, a tan pullover, and a…

"A good critic is as hard to find as a good piece of tail."

I got the notification this was in my mailbox and I took part of the afternoon off just to watch it. I've been following the saga of Palmer Rockey and his masterpiece since the 1980s when I caught a brief mention of it in The Church of the SubGenius where it (as Scarlet Love) was described as "the ultimate badfilm". I tracked down a copy of…

When my daughter
came into the living room
to tell me
she had watched Scream
with her friends
I instinctively said
"Why didn't you watch Death Spa?"

My wife told my daughter
I stopped watching horror
for a decade
because I hated Scream so much.
It was actually twelve years
before I watched a horror movie
made after 1989 again.

Scream is a dork smirking at you.
Death Spa is a hot body gyrating
beckoning you
a siren of exercise-based…