Thursday, August 29, 2013

Van Patten, Dick: The Secret Dream Models of Oliver Nibble, Part 3

If new to this series, start here.

The experts say that the first step to fixing a problem is admitting to it.  Well, three parts in, and I can admit that I have a problem.  I'm jealous of Dick Van Patten.

Alright, screw the experts, I don't feel better, I feel worse!


Our next model carefully searches the Cookie Monster pelt for ticks that fell off the flabby flesh of Dick Van Patten.  If any tick manages to get into that pile of hair on top of her head, it could set up great tick metropolise before anybody could dislodge it.

She takes off her shoes to protect the pelt because, obviously, there's not a lot of Cookie Monsters around.  It's a pretty valuable felt pelt.

Mr. Van Patten, what's the stain on your pants?

Scene of a model in repose; wondering if the check is worth being that close to Dick Van Patten's crotch.

A man currently regretting that last taco.

My dog looks like this after finding a particularly attractive bouquet of dog ass.

Dick is happily snapping photos from a dimly lit netherworld of the pink version of Doramammu.  He mugs, he preens, he looks like he's got a case of the trots so bad that his head is acting like a cork and his bottom feels like somebody put a nuclear bomb under the La Brea tar pits.

It's not very appealing.  But the women are getting paid, and we're getting sexy dancing!  Here it comes, I can't wait...

I Dream of Jeannie: The Marching Band Years.

Bwa haha ha ha ha ha ha haha haha ha ha ha ha!

I know you are thinking to yourself "what am I doing on this site?  It offers no value in my life" and then you are thinking "he must have taken this shot out of context."  No, it's worse in motion.  I do appreciate her contribution to science, being the first woman to wear a magnified slide of blood.

Belts, the all-purpose muffin top creating device.

I'm no camera expert, but I don't think you need a telephoto lens if you are two feet from the subject, unless you are doing an inspection of her nose hair density.

First, the ludicrous costume.  Second, being that close to Dick Van Patten.  What else can go wrong for this model?  Can it get worse?  Do I overuse this ruse?  Wait, that messes it up, now I have to repeat: can it get worse?

There isn't enough mouthwash in the world, or enough lye.

Oh hell yes.

On to part 4!

Friday, August 23, 2013

Van Patten, Dick: The Secret Dream Models of Oliver Nibble, Part 2

If new to this series, start here.

More Dick Van Patten, now in color, so you not only know how puffy his face is, but also how beet red it is too.  It's a win-win situation if you want to scare away small children and nervous dogs.

The last thing most kidnap victims see.

While watching the film in the last segment, Oliver imagines that he's a photographer and he's taking wild photos of the lovely chicks he saw on the street.  The film's transition to color contains part of the film spool with markings on it, a sure sign that the editor just didn't care one wit ...

... though not cutting out close-ups of Van Patten mugging should have already clued you into that.

This short isn't doing it's intended job when the tightest ass is on Dick Van Patten.

The invisible rope acting exercise was always one of my favorites.

Mr. Van Patten, let's leave the tight pants to the ladies, OK?

The sexy version of Charlie Brown's shirt.

Now we know for sure this is a fantasy.  Logical reasons:
  • Kissing Dick Van Patten instead of filing a restraining order.
  • Blonde wearing clothes made with yellow color not seen in this universe.
  • Dick isn't wearing shoes.
OK, that last one not necessarily a reason, I just wanted to point it out.  Why?  To keep the floor clean?  I'd think if that was the case, you'd want to keep as many layers of material between the floor and Dick Van Patten as possible.

That's a relatively unsecured cage.

Vive la France!

From the look of those curtains, I'm beginning to think ever color in the 60s was mandated, by law, to be either washed out or so colorful it could be best described as "zany."  What are these pastel nightmares?  Was there a fabric sale at the local sewing store: "1/2 off everything on the ghastly rack."

The burlesque version of "Stop in the Name of Love" was a big hit!

If only she was motioning to the camera man to stop filming.

Our dancers clothes begin to mysteriously disappear and Oliver's breathing becomes more labored and the puns spilling out of his gapping maw come faster and faster and I'm beginning to wonder if it's too late for me to shut this whole website down and go home.

Wait, I'm already home.  Damn.  I'm watching this at my home, on my own time.  Well, that's not good!

Even stripper's love ring pops!

Finally we get down to brass tacks, or faux gold chains and $1.59 in relatively poor quality faux velvet ropes.  Being the 60s, though, nothing on the stripper is faux.

That said, this woman is actually a pretty good go-go dancer, and she's got some relatively amazing moves, but she also has to be pawed by a sweaty faced Dick Van Patten, so, all in all, a whole hell of a lot more bad than good.

Too bad we've got two more models to go.  I hope they weren't paying Van Patten for this!

More of this, part 3!

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Van Patten, Dick: The Secret Dream Models of Oliver Nibble, Part 1

Warning: This nudie cutie review contains numerous deadly sins -- sins that will condemn your soul to the blazing fires of hell, including: misogyny, voyeurism, and Dick Van Patten's satanic camera muggings.  You've been warned!

Shoot quickly in Central Park and no permits are required!

This boob-filled lift of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty starts out with a pleasant pan through Central Park in NY, while the soothing sounds of a calliope full of cats being run over by a cement mixer merrily plays in the background.

This short stars Dick Van Patten, in either the low or high point of his career depending on how you view Love Boat, i.e., does your hate burn red hot for it or does it make suicide by rabid woodchuck seem like a sensible way out?

Dick stars as Oliver, a hen-pecked husband with a shrew wife who dreams of beautiful women being at his beck and call.  Just like Love Boat with ruffies.

Oliver really shouldn't have skimped and got his wife that cardboard purse.

Let's meet our lovable loser and his domineering wife, Clarabelle, a women and not a strange cow creature with big eyelashes, and who won't let poor Oliver cavort around with naked 20 year olds, the damn dream-stomping bitch!


What's her problem?  It's just innocent fun!  Frankly, what kind of change could come over Mr. Nibble that would cause her to have this adamant stance?

Spoiler: When in Hell, this is what's behind the seventh gate.

What's that thing all the hip kids say on the internet?  Oh, yeah, I remember:


She keeps an extra bicycle rim in her hair, for emergencies.

Our first lovely lady just got back from her job as a children's birthday party entertainer, using her favorite trick which is giving the kids a reason to sing the "I see London, I see France" song.  Lucky for her, she's looking our way and not noticing the incredibly creepy person behind her.  "It" looks like a 12 year kid with a noggin 3 sizes to big.

I'm not going to say "proof of aliens" but, well, if that head splits open and brain-controlling slugs pop out, ala Night of the Creeps, I wouldn't be surprised.

The clan for that tartan went into hiding and was never heard from again.

Here's our second hot babe, and we are starting to see the low budget of this short.  Couldn't they find a women without elbow wrinkles?  Gross, right?  What is she, 82?  It's disturbing!

If you haven't already noticed (and you might not, if you've been converted into a slug-controlled alien slave), everybody else in these shots are wearing coats.  There's probably a good bit of a cold breeze blowing up that mini skirt which I'd say is a bit unsexy -- but this is the internet and for sure there's some kind of strange tumbler for it -- one that I think viewing would feel a like wading through lukewarm sewage with the consistency -- and color -- of chocolate pudding.

Don't look!  I think she's watching us!

This scene has excellent composition.  That's it, no snark, I was sort of stunned when I looked back at the screenshot!

Was there a time when boating in any New York waterway was a good idea?

It's nice to see Tommy Shaw branching out into acting.

Clarabelle becomes very angry and removes Oliver from his sight seeing of rare birds (it's a useful term in case I need to hit on a hot time traveller from 1862) and down the street to a movie theater showing an "art film."

What could happen next?  Will you tune in for part two when I didn't even show the goods in part one?  Of course you will, that tumbler you found earlier just didn't do it for you, and, in part two, glorious color.

Yes, it's the Wizard of Oz with a lot more than curtains pulled back.

On to part 2!

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

I Dig Chicks

Real life keeps getting in the way of me being my regular laugh-a-minute self (easy because nobody can stand me for more than a minute), so you get crappy content like this.  Note: It's because I need to make sure I can do one post a day for October.

So don't push me you bastards I swear to the dark lord below I'll find each and every one of you and feed your gall bladders to my pet parakeet Mr. Shiny Pancake.

That was probably uncalled for.

Reasons Why This is the Best Album Cover Ever

Just look at it!

Big hair!  Saturn-5 level rocket boobs!  Enough junk in the trunk to seduce a monk to get in a bunk and do the funk (I'm truly sorry.)  Construction equipment!  The 60's version of Comic Sans!  The 60s version of photoshop!

And who wouldn't want to be with these women?  They are exciting and wild, look at how they flaunt OSHA rules!  Only one is wearing sensible flats (but that butt should require it's own safety and rigging equipment), but the other has high-helled sandals (to no-nos in one footwear!) and the other has bare feet.  The fourth is missing the bottom half of her body and probably shouldn't be on any construction site.

I hope her injury wasn't related to some idiot attempting to pick her up with a giant steel scoop.

Also, most importantly, using this image means I don't need to follow though on my planned overview of 60s granny panties.  Sadly, I'm not kidding.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

It's Supposed to be Sexy, Right? The Eerie Women, Part 5

If new to this series, start here.

One more batch of these great Eerie covers, which I think is good for all involved.

Honestly, you'd think a hot brunette vampire dancing with a goopy-faced reaper would have made a better choice in shoes.  What are those?  Slip on fuzzy slippers with, what, a 2 inch heel?  Tsk, tsk.

Well, the make-up's nice.

Mossy, high-eared were-frankenstein really wants to cut in.

Another over-dressed vampire and another badly-drawn werewolf are fighting over another attractive woman who's dress seems to be held up by her nipples alone.

I'm beginning to sense a pattern, but they are switching it up a bit here with a werewolf that is the dictionary definition of "moon faced."  I like how carefully he is stalking around the miniature cardboard tombstones.  It's a damn painting and he's still worried about knocking them over!

Crime shows always tell you that choking is the best way to kill somebody where you won't leave blood evidence.  Ha, screw you crime shows!  This picture is absolute evidence that choking somebody is like squeezing a bag full of red paint!

Joe Bob Briggs really hates Frankenstein's monster, but not enough to light his torch.  Joe Bob brought a bald guy, green-suited business man, and his grandma along for some reason.

Frankenstein's monster is reacting as any of us would when we went to all the trouble to find a victim, bring her home, and realize we already had one!  Another wasted trip!

More villagers with ties.  It's corporate Dracula, terror of the boardroom.

"From the Pit of Darkness Came the Horror Without a Head!"  Why can't headless horrors ever come from some place not dark?  Like a nice bungalow on the beach somewhere?  A quaint cottage up in the mountains?  No, not good enough for headless horrors.  Must be a bloody cave or a dank basement or the ball pit at your local kid's pizza place.

Headless horrors are snobs.

Not actually a horror magazine, the monster's from HR and is telling the woman that casual Friday does not really mean "bra's out" is OK.

Now, his nice fake gold wrestlemania belt?  That's always in!

I've always heard that right breasts are slightly larger than left ones.  So did, evidently, this artist.

And here it is.  The grand pooba or Eerie Pubs covers.

"Look, ma'am, neither of us are happy.  The werewolf just cackles and rubs his hands together like a mad scientist and I'm stuck turning this crank, and with my back -- well, I'm sure you noticed.  You don't like being ground up and I don't like getting paid minimum wage to do the grinding.  So let's all pitch in here and please pulls in the arms.  We'd all like to get this over with."

I think there's a number of health food violations going on here.  Did they wash the breasts first?  Is that really a hump or is our stitched-up hunchback sneaking out a fresh ham?  Should there be drool cups?  That foot in the bin really looks past it due date and I'm pretty sure my hamburger is going to end up being full of 1850s Southern Bell hair.

I sure hope she doesn't have the vapors.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

It's Supposed to be Sexy, Right? The Eerie Women, Part 4

If new to this series, start here.

More Eerie covers, and more realization that weird, horror, terror, and voodoo all existed in a universe with bright primary colors, like a slightly bloodier and more werewolf-filled version of Teletubbies.

In the Eerie universe there is no job more secure than pointy stick maker.

I want to try to ruin your evening (you're already on this blog, so how much further down it can get I don't know.)  Look at the hunchback.  Look at his Grizzly Adams by Cowardly Lion face.  Now slowly look down.  Further.  Further.  Now stop directly on the hunchback's package of epic proportions.

Now try to close your eyes.  Know that if you can sleep, you will be chased by an enormous hunchback penis through an unnaturally purple cave.  Note: penis is probably furry.

That jackfruit is really pissed, so pissed that he doesn't realize the physics of his position isn't going to give him the force to cut through a marshmallow.  Go ahead, find a hot women willing to be tied down in a short skirt and chest-baring ripped blouse.  If you next thought is to re-inact the cover of the October 72 issue of Terror Tales to see how well it would work, then, honestly, what the hell is wrong with you?

Blue Dracula seems offended by the situation.  Green lizard guy is indifferent.  He either gets to eat half a human or a human-sized jackfruit.

This is what happens when a brother steals a sister's Barbie doll and combines it with his monster playset.  Screams of "Ken, save me!" have gone unanswered.  It's not that Ken doesn't like Barbie, but when your dealing with a vampire that is willing to rip out his own eye for effect, it's time to realize that Barbie has a lot of other friends in the Barbie dream house.

Again, the Eerie insects.  Or arachnoids.  Or an Eerie artist that can't take the time to crack open a picture book on bugs.

Monkey-witch is a real jerk.  If I read this scene right, the monkey-witch is using voodoo to stab the female vampire, and her mate is being held back by the monkey-witches zombie minions.  That said, does the male vampire look like he's struggling?  Maybe he's been looking for a way out?  Do you think he's sarcastically going "No, please, no, don't.  Really.  No, don't."

Don't invite death and bat-face-werewolf to your Victoria's Secret show.  They really can't behave.

There's a lot of bright yellow in this one -- the primary color of fear -- to the point where evidently the colorist thought "You know what makes a scary reaper?  Banana yellow skull, in a plum colored robe."

Good artists know how to position the important elements front and center to draw the eye.  I think this artist earned his pay for the day.

Damn Lily Munster!

One more: Part 5!