NOTE: I WROTE THIS POST A WHILE BACK AND IF ANYONE ACTUALLY READS THIS OR MAKES IT PAST THE THIRD IMAGE, YOU’LL NOTICE SOME TIME AND DATE IRREGULARITIES.
hmmmmm – I guess I blew my wad at finding one of those nicely sized pictures for this theme’s featured image. I could have always just used the same thing for the top of this post but that’s not very adventurous. So there’s an ad for (I assume) the USA network from over here in the states in the 90s. I fully know I’m older than a lot of the people that might look out here but do you remember when Cable TV was branching out from just MTV and ESPN? I mean – we had the weather channel and some news and some baseball games and some chick networks (that’s not at all meant to be a dig at females or anything like that, please nobody be offended and I think we got a People’s Court TV channel and some other channel that showed shitty movies like this one that absolutely sucked ass but they could get it for cheap and show it for cheap and no one cared because your other option was looking at static on your tube tv when the other broadcasts went off the air.) I guess we really didn’t know any better if we couldn’t afford HBO or Showtime.
But that poster sucks as bad as this movie. Let’s try again.
Well, fuck, that’s even worse. That’s like someone’s shaky memory of a bad dream about a movie poster. On one post, somewhat recently, I was going on about some movie I hated that had no substance and I thought I’d try to write a sentence or two with no As in it for fun. I didn’t, but Mrs. Film Miasma is out of town so I have some time to kill so let’s try again.
I spy my dogs – do they look upon my tit? Do they, seemingly, desire by beer? Or, my sweet children, do you miss your mother? In minutes, it will be time for thy dinner, where you will stuff morsels of dried food into your mouths before pooping. My spellcheck corrected my poor typing into “moths” which did not beckon fucking sense, even for spelling robots. To wit, mentioning poop, it is time for your pre-bed routine, the dook of new york (doo-doo) followed with whizzing, to end, in slumber.
There we go – I did it. I fucking did it. And I got to mention my tit. Oh god damn! But that second poster still sucks so let’s see if I, accompanied by my tit and beer, can do any better.
Well, I don’t know if that’s any better but at least it’s fucking high res. Up yours, 90s photoshop!
Continuing the PROM NIGHT franchise – well wait – the first one was decent enough fun but suffered from pitiful quality, lighting, low-res and bad sound, but it was OK enough and had a wicked-fresh disco scene. We followed that up with a viewing of the wonderful, yet Canadian as fuck, Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night 2 that I totally loved and would have made out with under the bleachers but no one ever wanted to make out with me under the bleachers. In fact, I currently have this scheduled to post on August 13 – the day before my 30th high school reunion (it was supposed to be last year but COVID said “How sweet, no.”) The point of that is that, after writing that sentence and doing some soulful and full of wist reflection, I don’t think I ever made out with anyone in high school, bleachers or not. Huh… I REALLY liked this one girl and we were good friends but she had a boyfriend the whole time.
So here’s prom Night 3 and I think I can safely say that this movie wasn’t very good. The second one was fun but also serious and had a distinct visual atmosphere around it. This one had terrible, terrible acting, shitty special effects, didn’t really make any fucking sense and tried too hard to be like Mary Lou and failed. In fact – this sucked!
Before we continue – and I might have to edit this out – [NAME REDACTED: PROOF THIS YOU LAZY FUCK!] , here’s some seriously ambiguous foreshadowing of something we’re working on here at Film Miasma. I don’t know the level of work it will cost me so I don’t know how it’s going to turn out but:
I GOT HIGH AND BURNED MY WEENIE EPISODE 1
Now – let’s take a look here –
This opens up with some chicks chained to the floor of Hell doing some sot of can-can… HUH? What the fuck, now? While none of the other women can do the same thing (I guess) Mary Lou files away at her chains with some sort of metal and escapes Hell and heads back to her high school. What? Reminds me of that GWAR video for The Road Behind. Did anyone ever have the hots for Slymenstra? Probably not. I used to like GWAR back in the day but… hmmm.. you know how things go. I wonder if she would have made it with me? Probably not. By the way, her last name is Hymen.
Back in Prom Night 3, which is woefully uninteresting, in the living world, Mary Lou somehow falls in love with this cute girls’ boyfriend for reasons that are never made clear whatsoever and subsequently kills anyone that messes with him. K. This guy is a total fuck that no one would go or even make out with much less murder people for. We also have a new Mary Lou (btw) which is a shame because I really liked the old Mary Lou – I’ll put her in an oval too because, you know, memories!
In recap! Mary Lou has escaped from hell to go back to her high school and make some hoser fall in love with her so he can go back to hell with her and be her Prom King, presumably living a life of damnation fueled Canadian sodomy, debauchery and formicophilia (that was in a book I was reading earlier) (it’s not that kind of book, it’s about a lost and now found Charlie Chaplin sex tape and a bunch of perverted fetishists want to get their hands on it), having to murder a bunch of Saskatoon teachers and classmates while she’s at it. Committing these vile killings with ice cream cones, a football, battery acid and a thing of video tape.
How much more do I need to go into this? It’s 90s -sucky 90s at that. Everything is cheap and the music stinks and there’s not even any GWAR. By this time this fucking thing of mine posts, I’ll probably have put out at least ONE of my ill conceived and utter drivel podcast recordings so – I can promise you – I KNOW what sucks. My own shit.
FILED UNDER: CRAP
No Saskatoons were harmed in the making of this blog post.