Our last segment featured plastic spiders, werewolves made from raiding the combs at the hair club for men, and Bob Creese threatening the very continued existence of the supernatural. Can this film recover? Can it get better?
Everybody loves a parade!
You bet your ass it can, and right above is the 10 reasons why!
So Granny Good, dressed like the kind of Raggedy Ann they'd give out to prisoners of Devil's Island, brings out her girls for their morning exercise ... and also for the exercise of a whole bunch of really sad 60s dudes, crouched down in their cars at the drive-in.
Honestly, don't taste any popcorn you might find in the trash.
Best place to have a parade? Ten feet from a wobbly split-rail fence that protects what looks like a fifty foot drop. Make sure to wear your best heels!
The first and last thing you see upon entering hell.
Look, you know why we are here, and it's not Creese's ham-shapped mug. That man probably sweats entire sausage links. The general orbit of his massive frame is where dreams and the sense of smell go to die. If this man was dying in the desert, I would not let loose with a single drop of any bodily fluid, including that special organ I have that excretes lye.
There is absolutely nothing worthwhile to say about this man. I will not change my mind on this, and my insistence on this is not at all a set up for another lame joke.
I think this is called a motorboat slalom...
Thank god for Bob Creese, True American Hero™!
Again, where there any exciting colors in the 60s? I know the 70s went crazy for them, and I assume it was just pent up demand. Gray on white. White. Some weird industrial-chemical-blue. Dead leaf brown.
I'm the only one that cares about the color, aren't I?
Hey you, second from right, suck in the tummy! We're shooting! You don't want to have a private visit to Creese's trailer, right? Good, you learn fast!
Making physics interesting since 1962!
I get the feeling this is where many Japanese game developers got a lot of ideas for a lot of games.
Our hot ladies got through a series of exercises designed for maximum bounce. Many cheat and jump rope by hoping on one foot. Why do I seem to be the only one that cares? Can we have some professionalism from our boob delivery devices?
Hanna Barbera's animation studio.
They are almost done with the three cell Huckleberry Hound walk animation.
Next our lovely chicks draw Granny Good. They all draw her extremely fat. There was probably a lot of whiskey bottles being broken in Creese's trailer that night.
That awful chair cut off her circulation, she's dead. Stop gawking!
I hope they steam clean that towel in the bowels of a volcano.
I know I didn't have to point out the obvious with the red circle, but can we get better wig placement? I hate to say it, but it sticks right out, protruding, right at us. It's hard to miss! I don't know how anybody is supposed to concentrate when stuff like that is pointing right at us.
[Note to comedy writers: This is what we like to call "pounding a joke into the ground."]
[Note 2: Don't do it.]
The two women in the background to the left are imitating circus seals. They want that big beach ball really, really bad.
Remember how this was all taking place at a haunted castle on a mountain? Somebody seemed to have forgotten that! Most monster filled abodes now come with a nice in-ground pool and a view of the Hollywood Hills. At least they decided to frame the half-dead tree. It's kind of spooky. Kind of.
Well, Granny Good still scares me. There's that!
There's more! Part 5
There's more! Part 5
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