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6:06 a.m. - 2001-11-14
I am a fan of bad movies. "Showgirls" is one of my favorite bad films. The acting is horrendous, the plot is asinine and everything about it just reeks of lameness. And I love it. "Plan 9 From Outer Space" is, of course, the masterpiece of awful cinema. I have that film on videotape and have almost worn it out rewinding it and rewinding it to watch the sheer gawdawfulness of it all. So last night, when I sat down to watch a flick that I had heard of...neither in a positive or negative sense...I had no idea that what I would be getting would be BY FAR one of the worst films I've EVER seen. A film so bad that it will make you cry tears of depression. It's called "The Bogus Witch Project". I think. That's how it was listed in the TV Guide. That's what flashed on the screen at the beginning of the movie. But all through the movie, they kept referring to it as "The Woods", which confused me. Here's what I thought I was sitting down to watch...a 90 minute spoof of "The Blair Witch Project". I thought that sounded like a good way to waste 90 minutes...right? Here's what it was...SEVERAL spoofs of "The Blair Witch Project"...each about ten minutes long and each about as funny as getting caught cornholing your grandmother's cat. The first was "The Watts Bitch Project" where three filmmakers go off in search of the Watts Bitch. The funniest moment came when the filmmakers stopped two guys walking down the street and the guys asked the filmmakers if they were cops. They said they weren't, so the guys stole their video camera. I know. I busted a gut over it as well. There was "The Bel Air Witch Project". And, of course, "The Bogus Witch Project" which was supposed to be the highlight of the film because it starred that master of mayhem...Pauly Shore. I thought Pauly was funny until he started talking. Then I lost interest. It's only been about nine hours since I saw the movie, and I've already forgotten most of what I saw. I watched the first 30 minutes of it and sat staring at the screen, wondering how such a great idea could go so horribly wrong. After that, I switched over to an even bigger atrocity...the Michael Jackson Show. I guess it was his 30th anniversary party. But holy shit...if I recall, he was a whole lot younger than 14 when he started...he was like 8 or 9, I think. This would then be his 35th anniversary or something of being in show biz. But hey...who's counting? ...Obviously not Mikie. When I turned it over, Liza Minelli was singing "You Are Not Alone". I bolted out of my chair, tripped over one of Andy's many toys, fell to the floor, cursed God as well as my wife for good measure, jumped back up to my feet and shoved a blank tape in the VCR and hit "RECORD". Because I KNEW that this was going to be a keeper as far as bad television goes. And Liza DIDN'T let me down. My God...her version of the song was so incredibly stinkin' lame that I couldn't quit laughing. She sang it with such panache and feeling that I wanted to attempt to punch her in the face by beating up my television. Liza sings EVERYTHING with such emotion, she could turn the Itzy Bitzy Spider into a tear jerker. If I were to ever meet Liza, I'd have no choice but to knee her in the crotch several times. I never forgave her for totally screwing up "Arthur", I guess. She is the anti Christ. I am sure of it. Death and total destruction would be too kind for her. And of course...Michael was a freak in his own right. He applauded her cheesy version of one of his better songs like they dug Princess Di up and gave her an automated voice box like those creepy Presidents at Disneyland and had her croaking the song. I think it's true that Michael Jackson is so out there that he has no idea what the public thinks of him anymore. I think he reads this website though. Probably because he thinks Uncle Bob sounds like a wonderful name for a child molester. So Mikie...lean in to the screen for me. Real close. Open those inch thick mascara-covered eyes as wide as you can get them. Grab your crotch and let out a tiny little "Hee! Hee!" Ready? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanks Mikie. Me and you...we coo'.
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