Roughly Fashionable

Only a couple days left in 2013, and this blog is still a spewing sewer outlet of flimsy comedy concepts and overly smirky execution.  So, in that same vein, let's examine the fashion choices of flash-in-the-pan 80s LA glam metal band Rough Cutt.  The extra T is for trouble, right here in river city.

Our singer is dressed as Hassletoss, a little know Lord of the Rings character who was both a circus ring master and magician, and absolutely fabulous doing either.

The entire suit is made out of the same cellophane they wrap fancy candies with.  The flag sleeves are a nice touch in case he's ever stuck on a battleship and needs to semaphore.

One of our guitarist is dressed as a really fancy WWI German fighter ace, Count Ludwig VonDorkelstein.  He was famous for claiming to have shoot down a beagle on a flying dog house.

The guy behind him really needs to get that psoriasis looked at.

The following sentence will be the first time anybody has paid any attention to the bass player in a glam band.

He looks like Paul Revere on the day he ran out of clean shirts.  There, I'm done.

Our second guitarist beat the hell out of Joey from Blossom and stole his clothes, which were what Hollywood thought that kids in high school were wearing.

It fits nicely with the scruffy beaver he's got glued to the top of his head.

Fringe was on sale at the local TJ Max.

It's hard to see (the video quality was pretty bad) but he's got on golden military style lapels.  I guess this makes him a Captain in the glam drumming army.  While the marching beats are fun, the weekly STD testing knocks out a ton of qualified cadets.

It wouldn't be an 80s glam video without hot babes, and in this case, two of them and their bedazzled hats.  And while I appreciate Rough Cutt returning enough booze bottles to rent the limousine, is it really a good choice to dress your video vixens in shorts so tight it gives them the butt of a slightly sexy plank?

Happy New Year!  Next year I promise you, my reader, that I'm going to try even harder to have intelligent, thought-provoking and introspective more of the same crappy comedy!

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 8

Oh, the jokes, they write themselves.

"Men were my Toys!" ... and there was a sale on at the navy dock!  The ladies that let just about any guy hike up their pants around them -- especially the ones keeping ninja throwing stars in their jacket pocket and look like they've just downed an entire bottle of nyquil -- are the kind of women you want to stay away from.

How can you be sure that a women is this kind of hussy -- to stay away from, right?  We're clear on that, right?  It's easy, there's an obvious clue.  Any woman that matches her scarf, her earrings, and her bracelet with her phone is for sure easy.  If she's not talking on the phone, there's one other clue -- check to see if she glued centipedes to her eyes.

Rudolph has a Shiny Nose and a Big Mouth

"Rudolph has a Shiny Nose and a Big Mouth" is the premise.  You geniuses can follow the comedy from there.  Then you can get off my snowy lawn, you little bastards!  Happy Holidays!

The Parade's Second Anniversary

What is it that you get for your second anniversary?  Loose sand?  Corroded staples?  Not sure.

Over these two years and 295 posts I like to think I've gotten better at this comedy blog thing, but you can only judge your performance by the accolades of your fellow bloggers.  Let's see what they have to say:

Sadomasicist Nurse

blog: The Chalky Mistress

I was once hired by -- I find it hard to say -- "writer" of this blog.  He cried like a little baby, and those clips weren't even the ones I keep in the freezer.

That said, I can wholeheartedly recommend this blog for the exquisite pain it creates just from merely stumbling upon it while doing a google search for "monsters kill naked chicks."*

* This is true.  Scary.  But true!

ChimChim

blog: The Wondrous Smell of Burnt Fur

Site not banana.  Site no good.

Big Brain Wonder Woman

blog: Your Pathetic Small Brains Couldn't Hope to Match the Multitude of Clever

Names I Had for My Blog so Instead I Just Used This Descriptive Narration as

it Will Certainly be Easier for Someone of Your Reduced Mental Capacity to Parse

into Coherent Thoughts.  Thank You.

Greetings internet browsers.  Somebody from a low-rent and frankly below my notice blog has asked the most intelligent creature existing on this planet for a review of said comedic material.  It seems much comedy rests on the repeated nature of stilted-speech-run-on-sentences from an incredibly silly concept from a 70s Super Friends cartoon.  I do not find this humorous.

One hopes that the author of this pile of drol words on the world wide web will not discover the Super Friends episode where Dracula uses his before-hand unknown eye-beam power to turn Superman into a vampire.

Yes, there was, indeed, a worse concept than a hyper-evolved big brain Wonder Woman.  Now stop laughing at my head, the tiara still fits!

Robot Monster

blog: At What Point on the Graph do "Must" and "Cannot" Meet?

Like non-Ro-man ChimChim, Ro-man is also disturbed by distinct lack of bananas.  Ro-man is superior intellect from planet Ro-man, not sure why bananas so important.  Must request instructions from Ro-man command.

Received instructions: Can not recommend.  Ro-man command notes humor relies on pop-culture references from 50 years ago.  Even to Ro-man, who is not Hu-man, understands this bad idea.

Also: Lack of bananas appalling.

Grandma

blog: Who-hoo!  A Wolf!

Granda's still here, still wet, still wild, and still booty-poopin', though that pop might be my femur popping out of my hip-socket!  I'd recommend this blog but then I'd have to read it and Grandma just doesn't have the time!  There's surely some lonely wolf out there that needs some loving, some squeezing, and a free coupon for an erotic sponge bath!  I've already got the sponge and the plastic tub!

***

Again, as with last year, my thanks to the blogs out there that are run by my pals, especially Matt over at Dinosaur Dracula who -- and I'm sure he can't get enough of me saying this -- had a quitting spell that got me back into comedy blogging.

Of course, thanks to all the people that tune in and read the blog.  It's why I do it!

Here's to another year of crappy 60s nudie films and snarky comic covers!

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 7

Sure, Sarah Ann is thinking This is the life!  I've finally found the man of my dreams, with his manly pipe and, based on where the wheel is located, almost 7 foot yacht.  At least he makes up for it with the cool hat he stole off that old guy who smelled like a bunch of 19 year old women.

Of course, wait until she finds out the real reason she was invited aboard -- he lost the rubber bumpers on his yacht and needs ... substitutes.

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 6

Finally, a comic that instructs on the fundamental differences between the sexes!

So, the bombs are getting closer ... and closer ... and closer.

Boy reaction: Let's hump like frenzied raccoons before we are blown to bloody chunks!

Girl reaction: How about we get the living hell out of the drop zone?

Women.  Silly creatures, aren't they?

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 5

Bob, what's wrong?  Please tell me!

You know I was born without any peripheral vision or the ability to turn my head!  So please tell me! Are you mocking me?  You also know I can't turn my body around thanks to being born with stubby feet!

I knew this whole wedding was a mistake!  Mother told me never to marry a guy with a pencil-thin mustache!

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 4

To add a bit of context, here's the content of her Dear John letter:

Dear Freckle Face,

I can get over the fact that you look like Jimmy Olsen in drag, something that seemed to happen way more times than necessary to get that "scoop."  Your breath smelling like a rotten cow carcass stuffed into a rotting whale carcass stuffed into the Smog Monster from that Godzilla film is a bit harder to deal with, but if they made masks that could withstand mustard gas attacks in WWI, then I can probably find a way to deal with it.

What I can't deal with is your utter inability to use a dryer sheet.  That dress clings to you like it was made out of cheesecloth and Elmer's glue.  And high heels in bed?  Gauche!

Please never call me again,
The caged geek at the local sideshow

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 3

This cover is an important lesson to women looking for romance: when he grows tired of the novelty of your lips -- snicker -- your only hope is to replace that novelty with big-ass novelty ear muffs.

While it is your only hope to get back that hunky ski instructor/doctor, it does carry one risk ... the other woman might out-novelty your ear muffs by wrapping her head in bleached tripe.

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 2

Why did she want his love so badly?  Was it because Carl was a genius inventor whose no-edges wooden pop-tarts and ridiculously small cup was sure to make millions?

And what could she hope to give Carl?  First, she was dumb enough not to know a scarf goes around the neck (even David Lee Roth could figure that out), and second, how is she supposed to compete with a woman who's left breast is nearly twice the size of her right breast and about half the size of her waist?

That's some sexy geometry right there!

Love: A Many Snark-ied Thing Part 1

A new feature at the Parade, but the same old snark.  Here's where I ruin love and happiness for everybody, especially incredibly sappy people who read early romance comics.  I'm not editing these. You won't believe me, but it's true.  Would a blogger lie to you?  Well, yes, but this time, I'm not.

Oh Gloria, I will love you forever, even though you choose to lactate at the most inopportune times!

A Bevy of Bo-ob-s: Boin-n-g, Part 6

If new to this series, start here.

After a bit of delay -- so everybody can recover from the first completely unnecessary five parts -- we bring you the sense-shattering conclusion to a review of something somebody filmed, got edited and developed, and then had shown at seedy drive-ins and theaters across the country.

There was work put into this, people.  I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure.  Well, 40% sure.

I want to move into this neighborhood!

The back half of this film is a lot of long lazy shots on our bathing beauties as they lounge around next to the burning bush.

No, not the burning bush of biblical fame, but a bush that caught a burning, itchy rash from the crew leaning against it.

We rented a crane and we are going to use the hell out of it!

Here is where the directors artistic instincts take over; in this long shot, the looming shadows representing the darkness that is coming for our heroines, the juxtaposition of the chairs showing how one woman is just that much closer to death, and the fact that the shooting schedule on a cheap movie couldn't care one wit about where the damn sun is.

Again: There was a crew.  There was a director and a producer.  People worked on this.  Not people who cared, but certainly people.

You all forgot pants today?  What are the odds?

Here we see our director directing a scene from the new chick flick The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants That Got The Hell Out Of There Before They Would Have Enclosed Something That Would Have Forced the Pants to be Burned Much Like the Velveteen Rabbit.

Part 2.

Me thinkum this much racist!

Nothing cheers up a movie like some casual racism!

Women-learing Native American never got the same fame as his brother, trash-crying Native American.

My kingdom for a school of piranhas ...

At this point, the movie veers off and seems to completely forget it's main draw is boobs and not slapstick comedy by a group of people who's comedy timing wouldn't be better if you nailed a timer to their testicles.

We have endless scenes of them wasting film running around a field, falling in the water holding film, wrapping themselves in film, but not the one the audience is begging for, which is to fashion a film stock noose and hang themselves off the nearest camera crane.

Never before seen: Zapruder's "ick" reaction while filming.

Oh, and mugging.  Lots of mugging.

What goes good with a suit the color of cottage cheese?  Why, sea foam!  Top it off with a natty handkerchief of the deepest black and you're ready to sell hairbrushes out of a suitcase from coast to coast.

Actual footage of the editing of Birdemic.

And more mugging.  You remember why you shot this film, right?

Actually, it's kind of interesting how much film stock they burn up in gags.  As far as I know, film stock was expensive back then, but lots of productions had, for one reason or another, stock which they couldn't use.  Lewis and Friedman found an easy way to create some comedy bits without much cost.

This, of course, proves the old adage that "you get what you pay for."

... but this half-eaten box of jujubes looks clean ...

Our heroes manage to sell the film for a profit because it's so awful, sort of a reverse "The Producers", where the reverse of "hilariously funny" is "wadded up into a ball wailing in agony."

So ends our multi-part review of the last Nudie Cutie film Lewis and Friedman did: "Boin-n-g."  There was nudity, there were certainly cuties, but I don't think anybody is bouncing back after watching it.

A Bevy of Bo-ob-s: Boin-n-g, Part 5

If new to this series, start here.

The next couple of segments are so funny that you will laugh until you cry.  Note that you might skip one of the steps there.

I can't believe they used a serif and sans-serif font on the same sign.  Shame!

What follows is a workshop on the fine craft of comedy writing.  You have the setup, than you have the joke.  The setup isn't that the Batman is taking his war on crime a bit too far, but that our babes are about to encounter a plant that produces toxins that basically makes you break out in blisters, and can actually cause asphyxiation in a small bit of the population.

Comedy Gold!

So, we have the setup.  What's the joke?

Well, it's a fetish for somebody.

Painful, itchy rashes on the tuccus.  The film makers actually painted something red on their butts, but I think the bad pantomimed scratching was enough of a give-away.  Or they were turning into majestic red-butted monkeys.

So, reviewing our lesson, you have a lame setup by using a sign, in what we like to call the sledgehammer method of setup, and then deliver the punchline, in what we like to call the dental drill into the eye socket method of punchlines.

All in all, about as painful to watch as it is to itch.

We only wear our best heels when playing ball!  Wheeee!

There's an extended scene with these two ladies playing ball with each other.  It contains one of my favorite pet peeves about these movies (I'd like to pet the women and they'd be peeved if I tried) ... the heels.  These aren't the kind of 6 inch stilettos you see now-a-days, but they certainly aren't regular ball playing footwear.

I want to make a quick point about the hedge, which looks less like a hedge and more like a pile of salad fixings for a really hungry hippo.

Johnny LaRue couldn't get this, but these jokers do?  No justice!

The next bit involves a crane shot with another predictable joke (the crane falls, ha ha, major bone and organ damage!)  But it's a real shooting crane!  Those things aren't cheap, so much that SCTV pretty much spent an entire episode complaining about it.

Welcome to shooting a quick cash-in movie in the 60s.  No safety harness.  Using one hand as the other is holding what is a pretty heavy camera.

And what was all this for?

It's really jammed up in there!

Yes, it's what it looks like, they left in a scene where the woman picks the panties out of her butt crack.  Lewis and Friedman will leave no stone unturned -- and no wad of synthetic material jammed so far up a woman's crack that it's tickling her nose hairs -- in the quest for sexy.

This one's for you, strange fetish people.  Don't like itchy butts?  Here's picked butts!

My favorite three dwarfs: insane, medicated, and smug.

And ... girls ... try to look sexy!

Ready ....

Action!

Damn it. 

We're making what kind of movie?

After all these shots, it turns out there's no film in the camera.  Sadly, they didn't have the rights to the wah-wah music.  Even more sad, it was the film in the fake camera in the fake movie, not the real film in the real camera in the real movie, which is real annoying.

A Bevy of Bo-ob-s: Boin-n-g, Part 4

If new to this series, start here.

And we're back after a short absence, obviously caused by some kind of god-based denial of service attack, aka, giant-ass tree-toppling wind storm.  What does this unknown cosmic entity have against goofy comedy sketches backed up with flute-and-organ based music and a smattering of boobs?

I guess all modern gods are prudes, just based on random sampling.  Oh, to go back to the days of gods that would turn into a goose to ravish a fair maiden.  Speaking of ravishing ...

Helpful note: Always kidnap the old and infirm, they are easier to grab.

A previously unseen character is whisked out of a house for refusing to participate in this slightly sexy -- and about as filthy as the floor of a five-star restaurant -- film.  Our directors have employed the slightly unorthodox method called "drag the kicking and screaming girl towards the camera."

Though, to be fair, she is getting a little carried away with the modest clothes.  It's as if she's trying too hard, but I can't possibly, in any of the myriad universes, see this film using the twist that she gets naked anyway.  And speaking of trying too hard, that was sarcasm, by the way.  I tried too hard, didn't I?

Now we know where Michael Jackson got that move.

If dragging doesn't work aggravated assault usually does.

Back where the action is, we are about to find out what happens to our pretty ladies when the director yells "Look Sultry" and the camera starts rolling?  This brings us to the feature we call:

Our Gallery Of Close-But-No-Cigar

(not in the Sigmund Freud sense)

Sultry Look Round Up

"

You're absolutely positive it's not moving, right?  You're sure?  I swear I heard something.  I really want to turn around.  Honestly, I don't trust that rose.

Roses have always hated me.

"

"

Arrrggghhh!  Fire bad!  Fire bad!

"

"

You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talking... you talking to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who the f**k do you think you're talking to?

Oh wait, you are talking to me, I'm naked.  My bad!

"

Yes, that's the woman from before, who basically gets naked for the reason -- and I kid you not -- throwing her arms up into the air and go "eh, why not."  I'm more willing to believe the Anakin transformation in Revenge of the Sith from nice guy Jedi to children murdering Sith than I believe this.  And she still seems angry.  Really, really angry.

Stop looking at her.  You could die.

Finally, the butts you've been waiting for!

Of course, it ends with our heroes chasing her across a field.  Comedy!

An Update from the Dark Lord

This Sunday (argh, it burns, buuurrrnnns) was a bit biblical.  Somebody really has it out for me!

Power and internet all got smashed in what I like to call "the great wind storm of 2013", of which many a folk tune shall be written about how the driving wind knocked over my neighbor Edward Fitzgerald.  Regular posting shall resume as soon as humanly demonically possible.

I know you are all wondering what's going to happen next in Boin-n-g!  Spoiler: More boobs.

A Bevy of Bo-ob-s: Boin-n-g, Part 3

If new to this series, start here.

This next section features a jaunty musical score played on a calliope powered by the dying screams of hell-bound lost souls and recorded inside a cement mixer.  Used as a form of torture in various alien dimensions, the song, titled "The Many Tentacled Dark One Comes to Suck Your Marrow and He's in a Festive Circus Mood," is a perfect fit for this movie.

The original pilot for the A-Team tested very poorly.

Our two numb-nuts are finally getting around to shooting their movie.  They need to sit down as they are very tired from fighting in the contest to see who's dressed the most embarrassing.  Baggy shorts and black socks guy is pretty confident, but the other guy does have an extremely stupid hat.

"I thought we agreed that I was wearing the yellow pants today!"

Wait ... hold on.  I'm not sure what I'm seeing here.  Let's take a closer look.

Is this humanly possible?  I mean, I see it, on the screen, and this is long before CGI.  How does this even work?  Is it held in there by friction?  Is it some kind of talented use of gaffer's tape and spirit gum?  Are industrial processes used here?  An early form of vacuum molding?  The mind boggles!

It's a bad sign when the directory is that un-observant.

Our movie takes place at a regal estate full of sandstone buildings, beautiful flowers and landscaping, and chiggers the size of overweight cats.  Everybody take off your clothes!  We're going to poke the chiggers with sticks to see what happens!

He's having trouble counting up to the number of boobs.

I just noticed that the guy's shirt matches the women's panties.  I'd say we should give the designer a chocolate chip cookie but you're not supposed to feed chocolate to dogs, especially one suicidal enough to work on this movie.

This is the hot chick from the office yesterday, and she "always gives men what they pay for."  On the payment form, is there a line item for chlamydia?

Just because "pantaloons" sounds like "panties" doesn't mean they are sexy.

So our movie gets under way, and it seems to be a sexy Quincy cosplay.

"Oh Quincy, how about you examine this body!"

"Doll, I can't wait to examine a more ... lively subject!"

Script writes itself.  Call me Hollywood.  I think 50% of domestic profit for Quincy: ME (Mammary Examiner) and 75% international is fair.

Is there really a hot lady corral?

Here they are trying to film the opening titles with comedy action in a beautiful field, all set to migraine inducing flute music.  It's just like my summer camp experience, but with 100% less boobs and 30% more swirlies.