Category Archives: tasteless

Greaser’s Palace: my next must-see DVD

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Greasers Palace

A Sixties stoner cowboy movie about Jesus: why not, eh?

Apparently the DVD of Greaser’s Palace exists, but only as a rare (and, thus, overpriced) collectable. But I must have it; the Youtubes and online references are simply too tantalizing. Don’t believe me? Check it out:

And a review from Badmovies.org:

You are probably thinking to yourself, “It couldn’t be that outlandish. Could it?” Go and look up “naive” in the dictionary. Now.

The entire movie is an anecdote [I think he means “allegory”] for religion, Christianity to be precise… Greaser’s Palace is a huge saloon in some tumbleweed town out west… Seaweedhead Greaser is the Catholic Church as represented by a gunslinger with itchy trigger fingers. Why in the world does he have a mariachi band and his mother locked in wooden cages? The musicians are easy to explain; they provide entertainment while Greaser tries to have bowel movements (which he is unable to do)…

Right from the start it is evident that Greaser hates Lamy Homo (pronounced as “lay me homo”). He shoots, stabs, and even dumps the little guy down a well. The Church’s efforts to eradicate his homo problem are to no avail; Jessy keeps bringing the reluctant Lazarus back. Lamy consistently recites the same story upon his return from the other side and it’s a trip. Readers old enough to remember when Puff relaxed immigration laws and all those runny noses invaded Honah-Lee (Honalee? Hon-a-lee? Who knows?) might identify with me. It’s that weird.

Any movie about Western religion would be incomplete without Martin Luther; so where is he? He is the man trying to perform a card trick for Seaweedhead. Check it out, the would-be magician does the old “pick a card, any card” bit. He then holds up card after card, inquiring “This one? How about this one? That one?” Poor Martin Luther, trying in vain to decide which interpretation is correct. History says the man finally gave up and just wrote something to the effect of “Figure it out for yourself!” Then he went to get a hammer and nails, but I’m getting sidetracked.

Not at all, not at all. It makes SO MUCH SENSE now. If only I’d seen this movie before I took all those Religious Studies courses at University!

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Palin Poetry

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No, that’s not a misspelling of some random Bjork tune; it’s what the incoherent, rambling speech of Sarah Palin turned into once the immortal William Shatner got his paws on it. Behold:

From the full, delicious, transcript:

And getting up here I say it is the best road trip in America soaring through nature’s finest show. Denali, the great one, soaring under the midnight sun. And then the extremes. In the winter time it’s the frozen road that is competing with the view of ice fogged frigid beauty, the cold though, doesn’t it split the Cheechakos from the Sourdoughs? And then in the summertime such extreme summertime about a hundred and fifty degrees hotter than just some months ago, than just some months from now, with fireweed blooming along the frost heaves and merciless rivers that are rushing and carving and reminding us that here, Mother Nature wins. It is as throughout all Alaska that big wild good life teeming along the road that is north to the future. That is what we get to see every day. Now what the rest of America gets to see along with us is in this last frontier there is hope and opportunity and there is country pride.

And, topical as always, Vanity Fair has already published Palin’s notes for the historic speech.

Palin says Buh Bye

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The Secret of Shatner

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Longtime readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog, plus all Canadians ever born or made, have long been familiar with the singularly sexy superstar of supernatural superlativenosity known as The Shat. To all others, we say, worry not, o obliviousnosceni, we feel for you. What do we feel for you?

Pity, that’s what.

Ah pity da man who don’t know William Shatner! The patriot, the thinker, the lover, the balladeer, the slasher, the rapper, the cunning linguist, the legend.

The masticator:

Oh, you can HAVE your Paris‘s. You can HAVE your Padma‘s. You can HAVE (for about twenty-five bucks, if I hear rightly) your Audrina’s. But none of them will ever approach the irresistable erotic intensity of this pudding performance of the Shat..

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Total Eclipse of the Original

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I don’t know what it is about this song, but it seems to inspire the greatest living sardonicists to greater achievements in sheer over-the-topitude than have ever been seen this side of Kadath Through The Looking-Glass.

First there was Kiki and Herb‘s heartrending story of transgendered love gone awry and tragic loss.

Now, there is dascottjr‘s Literal Version. Post-Post-Postmodern and deeply Eighties, it takes you behind the scenes, behind the hair gel and makeup, behind the blank expressions of the born-to-sing-not-act star and shows you the true meaning of this, perhaps the most iconic of all music videos.

Dancing Fonzie zombies FTW!

via azahar

Oh yes, there’s a Facebook page, of course.

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The Booty Call of Cthulhu

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Carrying on from our infamous Cthulhu Porn post (warning: CTHULHU GOATSE, THE ULTIMATE EVIL), we present the following. In case you read The Dunwich Horror, extrapolated (as is your wont) from the circumstances surrounding the conception of Wilbur Whatley, and wondered what kind of woman would do the dirty with Mister Big Himself, Cthulhu.

Behold:

The Booty Call of Cthulhu

It explains so very much.

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