When did you learn where babies came from? Luka was only a little girl when her folks gave her “The Pop-Up Book of Reproduction.” POW! That penis came right at you! Skullard, on the other hand, ended up getting The Talk when he was a fifth grader at church. A sweaty, well-meaning youth minister somehow convinced the various parents that Sunday School was the best place for children to learn the rudimentaries of sex ed. Brave man, considering these days he would have been drawn and quartered for even suggesting to church kids that sex exists, much less how doggie style keeps the weight off the girl and allows deeper penetration. Of course, growing up as we did, there was no way either of us could have known the true realities of the intermingling of sperm and egg . . . and we still don’t. We opted out of the whole thing. Turns out, we didn’t need to know where babies came from, just where the contraceptives could be picked up. Once you know how to keep babies from showing up, it’s all very simple. And as the old acronym says, “Keep It Simple, Stupid!” Since we’re not constantly having to buy school supplies, small clothes and Lunchables, we have money to waste on toys for us. And since we don’t have to attend soccer games, teacher conferences or school programs, we can waste time by going to see Thomas the Tank Engine. Who needs a baby? We ARE the kids!
In 1980, Rory Calhoun said to himself, “Rory Calhoun, you’ve done enough of this standing and walking around business. You need to get out there and do something different. Something involving burying people up to their necks in dirt. Something where you can stick a pig on your head and have a chainsaw fight. You’ll never be able to live with yourself if you don’t. Plus, a check would be nice.” And so, Motel Hell came about. Treat yourself to this charming story of inbred cannibalism. In this Good Intentionally Bad Movie, Farmer Vincent has a great marketing plan for his backwoods motel: spiking the tires of hapless passers-by. Oops, need a place for the night? Why not stay here where you can rest and eat some of Vincent’s famous fritters? Mmmmm, tastes like chicken. What’s in ’em? Well, let’s just say “meat’s meat, and man’s gotta eat.” Take a little stroll through the back garden. Are those heads of lettuce? Nevermind. Say, when’s checkout around here?
“Lucky Larry” gets a lift out to sea from his pal and benefactor Don MacKenzie. “The most expensive lobster I never ate.”
A studio apartment with just ONE of these nasties would be too much. But Dylan Baumann lives with 40 of ’em!?! It’s hard to believe that the apartment shortage in Omaha is really this bad.
Just what every 13 year old boy needs: an unalterable body modification.
Oh! What happens when the groceries in the fridge and cupboard run out? How does one obtain more? Such an ordeal must be frought with dangers and rife with befuddling confusion, yes? No! Behold this week’s educational short; Buying Food (1950)!
From Skullard’s Postcard Collection: “Da hell ya doin’, ya numbskull? Da baby’s all wet now!”
“I’m marinatin’ him. Da hell youse t’ink I’m doin’, nimrod? I’m givin’ him a bat’.”
“You’se can’t wash off baby-stink. Here, let me sponge off da little monster. Youse been spongin’ offa me dis last few years, ’bout time I gets a toin.”
“Don’ get over-excited by his tonger-wubbly.”
“Dat’s his wang? I can’t believe it!”
“I knows, right? I ain’t seen one dat big in dis house fer years.”
“Youse a piece a shit, youse know dat? Miserable, dried-up slag.”
“Hey! Stop callin’ me slag in fronna da fuckin’ baby! I’m his mudder!”
“Geez, did he wizz in dere?”
Mmmmm . . . aebleskivers! This one’s for the ladies. Thanks, Myk!
