Here’s how my brains work. I watched Hello Mary Lou (Prom Night 2) again the other week because I really like that movie and wanted to write about how I want to kiss on it and maybe grope it a little bit even if it is Canadian and was thinking about what I could do or say and then my brains seized up and couldn’t go any further or press on with the concept of starting something with “2”. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” I tried to soothe myself repeatedly because, prior to popular opinion I do think about these posts, “It’s OK. It is. It’s also OK if the chapstick labels aren’t the same way and if some of those Phillips head screws don’t align perfectly in your wall outlet plates.”

“But, goddamn.” Replied my brains, pointing out that it’s usually just not really that acceptable to start a new toothpaste or deodorant on – say – a Wednesday, or why the fuck would anyone not separate their pizza delivery red pepper flake packets from their parmesan cheese packets and keep them in a nice wire mesh tray, categorized neatly, so someone would know just what someone is getting when it’s time to eat pizza.

“We don’t have to watch it again, it’s not that super good and everyone’s seen it. And, come on, Film Hipster’s not around any longer so we can’t keep making Canadian jokes.” I argued. “If it were Greek or straight up French, no one would notice.”

“Maybe you have something there,” the brains conceded. “I sure do miss Film Hipster.”

And everything was going well and good and then my coworker and I went and ate lunch at this new cajun place down the street from work and he got fried alligator tail and I tried it – against my will – for the first time in these 50 years and it was pretty good actually – especially dipped in the house remoulade – and things seemed to be normal and then – against everything I stand for and everything I try to focus on and keep on the straight and narrow – I had to make an urgent stop in the public shithouse and everything went tits up.

“WHY BRO WHY??!!?” Screamed my everything.

No one would be proud of me.

And here we are.

So this was the second time in my life I’ve seen this Canadian slasher and I can’t really come out and say that I loved it. I think – think – that I might have liked this better if:

• I had seen this when I was a kid
• I had seen this when I was a teenager
• I was Canadian
• I had seen this on something other than our large TV and with a better HD rendering

This movie starts off with a bunch of Canadian kids playing some sort of game that must have been invented by people who didn’t have much to do except live among the moose and I guess it was / is called The Killer. These bored and weary children go hide and the designated killer seeks you out and gives you a good rogering right up broadway. Oh wait – no – they kill you in that fake way kids do. You, as dead, then go screaming “KILL!!!!!!!!!!” all over the place, piercing adolescent ears, until there is only one kid remaining and apparently you actually really do kill them – committing murder – because they scream “KILL!!!!!!!!!!” so much and so loudly at the little girl above that she falls out of second story window and dies. Nice game.

Apparently those kids above were twelvish, even though they looked like they were six or seven, but I don’t know shit about Canadians other than Moose Head beer, syrup and – well – I guess that’s about it – because we fast forward six years later and they’re all about to go to their senior prom and they look like the above. In 1980 I was 9 and while I do remember peeping on adult women tanning naked in the backyard next to me, I don’t recall seeing a bunch of ladies at the school I went to hanging out with – well – hanging out. Before you get crazy ideas, in 1980 I was at what they call a K-12 school so even the lower grades could mingle with seniors and shit but still – no low hanging torpedoes.

As the story goes, the inept and full of fuck cops never figured out who killed the little girl so long ago but they finger some deranged sexual predator who got  burned up in a fire and has remained locked up in the INSANE ASYLUM for exactly six years but now he’s escaped.

I guess we should take a quick break and clear some things up. I didn’t actually catch or see anyone getting the finger or really even giving the finger, for that matter. That’s just a figure of speech I used. By the time this posts, I will have already posted a paragraph or so about how people used to go around sticking their thumb up people’s butts and calling it The Goose. So: even though this is Canadian and set in 1980: no fingering, no rogering and no goosing. Sounds pretty tepid, even for Film Miasma. Much like saying the Green Apple Quick Step. Polite.

But most importantly there’s some of this:

That’s disco I think that’s the finest form of dancing there ever was but – yep – that’s just me. Maybe not all of the music but you can’t really dance to Five Finger Death Punch no matter how bad their music is getting these days.

BLAH BLAH BLAH some dude in a ski mask is going around killing the people who “KILLED!!!!!!!!!!!!” the little girl – his M.O.? Broken glass and an axe. The kills are off-screen or so blurry that you can’t tell what’s going on, so they aren’t interesting to talk about. I think the thing to take from this is that Disco was awesome and Jamie Lee Curtis has been hot her entire life, torpedoes out or not. I guess this was OK, maybe I would love it more if I had seen it younger but – it is what it is. There are much worse things to look at out there or even just read about on this blog.

In summary! Disco? Check. Jamie Lee Curtis? Check. Canadians? Check. Kids running around screaming their fucking heads off? Check. Also – Leslie Nielsen’s in this.

Now you’re all set!

FILED UNDER: AT LEAST THEY TRIED

P.S. If anyone’s still hanging around – somebody got into those brains of mine recently and some bad idea turned into a worse idea and then – beer. I don’t know how much will come of this aside from a full of shit thought or two but – here’s something that may or may not be coming your way. NOTE: This IS audio so there is sound. It’s nothing perverse (aside from my voice) but it’s not something you’d probably play in front of your priest.