But, still, whenever I see that baby-face on great legs, I think of how great she could have been. Watch Born Innocent if you don’t believe me.

So, when I saw her getting top billing on the 1985 girls-in-prison exploitation film Savage Island, available for free on Hulu.com, I knew that this movie and I had a date with destiny. And, much like a stripper of the same name, destiny can be a great big tease.

Blair plays Daly, recently escaped from an all-girl South American prison, who emerges from a limousine in an anonymous metropolis, enters a high-rise, shoots Penn Jillette in the head (yes, that Penn Jillette) and holds an over-weight businessman at gunpoint. That businessman is the owner of the emerald mine where inmates from the aforementioned South American prison are forced to work.

Now, I hope you enjoyed that 10-minutes of star-power, because that’s pretty much the last you’re going to get of Linda Blair. From there, we’re taken to the prison to follow the story of Maria, Daly’s agent, who goes undercover in the mine to… well, I’m not entirely sure, but I assume she’s freeing the girls. She digs for emeralds, sweats a lot in a short leather skirt, makes friends with the other inmates and endures bizarre tortures from a small Italian man in a white suit.

And, you’re right, this does sound like a totally different movie… because it is. Apparently, what follows is a pair of Italian exploitation films, stitched together to simulate a story, narrated by the former Regan MacNeil. Unfortunately, the two films they used didn’t share entirely the same cast, so characters are portrayed by multiple people.

You see, Savage Island is not a Linda Blair movie. Savage Island is a hodge-podge of late-seventies jungle films, with an introduction/narration by a “name actress.” Think of it as a boob-laden episode of Night Gallery, with Linda Blair as Rod Serling in a fur coat.

We spend about an hour watching this spaghetti mash-up, as our heroes infiltrate the all-girl emerald mining camp, get in some catfights, seduce some guards, take a shower, do some skinny dipping, and have a big, dusty, topless gun-fight.

And, all the while, I was thinking… I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen this many real breasts on my television! I mean, we’re a decade into this millennium, and between scream queens, weather girls, VH-1 and “Jersey Shore,” not to mention the occasional clandestine DVD, many a mammary gland has graced my screen, and I’d forgotten what a god-made breast looked like in two dimensions!

In the end, I watched Savage Island with a bizarre mix of childish wonder and anatomical curiosity. I felt like I was fourteen, finger poised on the POWER button, just in case my mom were to burst into the room. This movie was like a time capsule of natural cleavage and ungroomed pubic hair.

Still, at only 74-minutes, it all got so boring, I’ve no idea how it ended.

According to the “always reliable” IMDB trivia page, Linda Blair had insisted that her name not be above the title, so as not to deceive her fans, since her work in the film is essentially a cameo. Well, I was sufficiently deceived, and disappointed. But, then, I own Exorcist II: The Heretic, so it’s a sensation I’m familiar with.

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I love you, “Repo! The Genetic Opera.”  For all the wrong reasons.

When we’re together, at first, you’re so much fun.  You take me to cool places, play me your weird songs, introduce me to insane friends and tell me a story that’s so dense with pathos that my inner-14-year-old girl screeches with glee.  It’s like a Rocky Horror Grand Guinol.

Quite frankly, you’re everything I dreamed of, scribbling away in my Junior High unicorn journal.

You tell the story of a future where organ failures run rampant and a company, GeneCo, that rises to fill the void.  But, organ transplants don’t come cheap and if you can’t make your payments, they send the Repo Man, Nathan Wallace, a legal assassin, to retrieve GeneCo’s property.  From there we meet, Rotti, the terminally-ill president of GeneCo, his three children vying for the company after their father’s death, a Graverobber, who traffics an illegal pain-killer, and Shilo, Nathan’s sick daughter, locked away in a tower.  Yeah, I keep a flow-chart close at hand.

And, it’s all told against the backdrop of a city that is equal parts dystopian and beautiful, with vibrant special effects, timeless set design and songs that combine Wagner, Rammstein and German folk. At first it’s such gothy, silly, black-lit fun!

But, as the night wears on, you get lazy, inattentive.  Your songs lose their thrill, your sets all go away, except for one bland opera stage, your back-story requires a cheat-sheet and you wrap up your plot with a mountain of exposition, leaving plot-holes the size of Paul Sorvino’s breakfast.

And, when you leave me, my friends remind me just how bad they think you are.  How your music is “too repetitive,” your story “too confusing.”  And, your third act sucks.

And, you know, I can’t disagree with them.  The story is unnecessarily complicated, the flash-backs do kill the momentum, Alexa Vega really can’t sing.  And, your third act really does suck.

But, they don’t understand you.  They don’t see the passion with which you were created.  Your flair for going way too far.  Anthony Stewart Head tearing up the scenery.  Paul Sorvino as a great opera villain.  Bill Moseley, Ogre and even Paris Hilton managing to not suck and Terrance Zdunich playing history’s sexiest Christian Death fan.  Your sets are amazing, your death scenes are awesome and most of your songs straight up kick-ass.

You’re not perfect, but you’re a work with insurmountable potential, and if you fulfilled it, we’d all be complaining you were too popular.

So, “Repo! The Genetic Opera,” I will return to you tonight, as I have many times before, and as always, you will hold my attention for about 30 minutes and then squander, neglect and abuse me for another hour, leaving me to feel embittered, dirty, wishing you would change.

Just take your Ministry t-shirt and go.

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Dear Arab World,

I imagine, what with our President announcing a planned withdrawal of American forces from Iraq and Afghanistan, that you must be absolutely beside yourselves. There must be a part of you, however, that nags the back of your mind, a part that wonders if it could really be possible, if it could really be over.

Image by drinksmachine

Silly Arab World, do you really think we became the Great Satan by giving up? What, do you think we’re like the Russians, carting in truckloads of expendable soldiers from our oppressed satellite states just to pull out because we ran out of money? We don’t have expendable soldiers or oppressed satellite states, and we don’t run out of money.

I have in my possession a token, a talisman of your undoing. It is a dark portent from the sands of ancient Babylon itself, acquired in the fertile crescent between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers and brought here, to my American home, at great personal risk and expense to be gloated over, chortled at and mocked. It is a blue baseball hat bearing the embroidered words: “Burger King Iraq”.

Indeed. You have already lost. There are Burger King franchises in Iraq, likewise Seattle’s Best, Subway Sandwiches, smoothie parlors, ice cream chains…

Image by eesti

It’s only a matter of time now before Arab children are asking their mothers why dinner is never as good as a Happy Meal.

Double cheeseburgers. Khakis. Marlboro Reds. Coca Cola. Summer action blockbusters. Iced lattes. Nike. Hip Hop. Xbox. Simpsons reruns.

Your souls, so well girded against sin, are completely defenseless against convenience and affordable quality.

French fries. Poker nights. Red Bull. Reebok. Abercrombie. Drive-Thru everything.

Your ancient culture, so stalwart against invasion, has already been unalterably infiltrated by the juggernaut of mass appeal. Just like Japan to McDonald’s and the French to Disney, you too shall fall to the free market. We have already accomplished all we came to do.

by Alan Cordova

Your spirits remain Allah’s, your dinars shall belong to us.

Still rockin’ in the Free World,

Brian

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In Parts I-III (available for viewing) I offered to dispose of the Humane Society’s unadoptable pets by feeding them to my python. After prolonged negotiations, we have agreed not to pursue the option for now. Here are our final communications:

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Dear Ms. XXXXXX,

It is very clear through our conversations that you treat the animals under your care with the utmost regard and consideration, even after their passing, and I hope the community realizes what a wonderful institution they have in the San Diego Humane Society.

I notice from your last email that you often have pet owners with specific wishes concerning their pet’s remains. Perhaps were you to inform them of my snake and me, and the service we provide, they might be interested. It would be like a little piece of their beloved companion lived on in my python, and people could find that comforting. They might also be interested in paying just to witness the spectacle, as it can be quite an arresting and graphic display of adaptive physiology.

What do you think? More options available to the bereaved can’t be a bad thing…

Sincerely,
Brian

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Image via Wikipedia

Dr. Doug says that the earth is naturally heating up regardless of mankind and this will inevitably lead to an Ice Age where we all die in a nifty 10,000-foot high block of Ice.

Image via Wikipedia

So I said to the good doctors, “Look Docs, I have been told by a very reliable source that burning to death is extremely painful… actually… come to think of it how many times could Carl have possibly been burned to death? Once at most… but then he’d be dead. It is possible that my source is completely un-reliable. So… please disregard what I just said and replace it with, burning to death seems like it might possibly be very painful, though I have no evidence of this fact aside from what I have seen in movies with witches, stakes and angry flaming mobs.”

by Robert Couse-Baker

The doctors then spent twenty minutes getting me to elaborate on what I meant by flaming mobs. That’s what it’s like with scholarly types; you have to really be specific with your words. Eventually they let me continue, “…and have any of you ever had to put Ice on a swollen groin? It shrinks the Jesus from your Jimmy. My point here is, you have given the world only two options, possibly painful death, or worse, a society plagued with frosted mini peckers and unsatisfied women. What we need is not arguments, but solutions!”

After icing each other’s groins and screaming in panicked realization, the doctors said:

1. Protect the ice caps
2. Use less fuel
3. Encourage nature
4. …and most importantly, stop volcanoes

Let’s all do what we can to help the environment by doing one of the above!

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So in Part I (available for viewing), I offered to help the Humane Society dispose of unadopted animals by feeding them to my python. Here in Part II, I post their response and address their reservations:

Dear Mr. Henley,

Thank you for contacting the San Diego Humane Society &SPCA.  Your concern regarding unadoptable pets and the stress of our staff is truly commendable and I appreciate your thought.  We strive to offer all of the animals we work with as much dignity as possible, in life and after. Therefore, any deceased animals we have are transferred to an animal memorial park.  The remains are then treated as the pet owner has requested, or they are cremated and buried at sea.   Please also understand that sodium pentobarbital may have been give to some of these animals to hasten their passing, and this drug would not be safe for your snake to consume.

Thank you again for your care and concern.

Sincerely,

XXXXXXXX, RVT

Animal Receiving Manager

San Diego Humane Society & SPCA

Dear XXXX,

I applaud your efforts in treating your animals with as much dignity as possible. I would argue, however, that there can be no more dignified an end than perpetuating the grand circle of life; giving the energy and nutrition of your very body to sustain another fellow being. And as for the sodium pentobarbital, I have coincidentally been building my snake’s resistance to it for quite some time.

Please consider,

Brian Henley

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Top Ten: Weirdest Poorly Translated Fortune Cookies:

1: “May you have ice cream in your pocket always”

2: “Quiet moments end in nosebleed”

3: “Wisdom falls upon you like whore urine”

4: “Never stop putting children within you”

5: “Strangers are just guests in your garage”

6: “Happiness is buried at the center of the sun”

7: “Calm lakes hide a dirty bottom”

8 “Chairman Mao stole my kidneys”

9 “The willow bows to the wind and the gas passes quietly”

10 “Fried Hamster Birthday!”

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LETTER SENT TO VARIOUS HUMANE SOCIETY OFFICES

Dear Humane Society;

I know that despite your best efforts, some companion animals are not adopted and need to be put down. I imagine the process must be very difficult for staff, and is probably quite expensive.

I own a large python. I have been feeding it feeder rats from a local pet store, but it occurs to me that I could spare your staff the trauma and expense (and save a few dollars myself) were we to work out a symbiotic arrangement. Please let me know what you think.

Sincerely,

Brian

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