Skip to main content

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay....

So I decided that, in the spirit of originality, to declare Mondays henceforth be known on this blog as "Bad Movie Mondays". So that means (at least?) one of my infamous bad movie reviews a week. Hopefully this will force me to start working through my ever growing collection of bad movies/to maybe someday get good at reviewing movies. We'll just have to see, eh?

This week's movie is a gay softcore porn/artflick called Laserblast. No, seriously, it's some kind of sci-fi thriller/horror thing--but this kid is ragingly gay. But tragically closetted. As you can tell, I heckled this one with some gay friends.

For those of you who'd like a competent review of this movie, please check out my new lovers--though they don't know it yet--over at Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies.



Naturally, those guys already have screen caps of a bunch of the stuff I was gonna rip off from the movie. Plus much better organized reviewness. Naturally.

However, I took some screencaps of my own and I thought I'd share'em to, you know, look more professional or stuff. Also, I'll share a few gems from that night with my gay friends. For the record, it wasn't just some inside joke we fags came up with. I knew from the moment "Billy" first tumbled out of bed in just his boxers that he was a fag.

As the plot unspools, we soon discover that he is very unloved. An outcast. A tragic, sullen figure whose own mummy skips town to get away from him. (Don't worry, it seems he totally takes a dump on her luggage, so he has some vengeance.) This is probably because he's gay and that's gross. That's just how it works, obvs. Also, angst is terribly attractive.

Life gets gayer for the angsting teen closet case; teen heartthrob/Peter Davison on steroids and his twinky nerd boyfriend challenges him to a race but Billy's truck won't even start. And it gets worse.

However, he discovers something marvelous out in the desert. A space dildo. Gun thing. It's mondo hawt and gives him cold sweats in the night and rampaging mutant killing sprees as a bonus. The guys over at mmmmmovies think it's a galactic penis pump of sorts, and I'm inclined to agree. It's all those things and more...

Wait, you mean I can practice fisting with it, too!?

Awww yeah, boyyyyyy.... 

See, after he finishes teabagging himself with the power source necklace of Fabulosity, and blasting his....gun all over the place.... all this violence unleashes the evil mutant alien Hyde inside this troubled youth. In short, his inner Diva. The poor kid.


The gayness escalates--fake fucking his fake girlfriend/beard, fake saving her from his crush--that muscley Peter Davison--and so on as the authorities close in and he feels less and less inhibited, this is truly a coming of age story that any space-laser-dildo-wielding gay man can surely relate to.

Gay.

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo. In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June .  ( Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide. ) The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous fl

QP: Changes to come, I hope.

My grandmother passed away about 2 weeks ago. I hope to write about her more soon, but for this moment, I want to speak briefly about where I'm at overall: Her passing has led me to reevaluate aspects of my life because I'm realizing that the status quo amounts to just wasting my life away. (This is another "quick post," which means it's a short update that I likely didn't edit and revise quite as much as the more "thoughtful" pieces I aim for. I say this because I'm self-conscious and worry that you, my reader, will judge me!) I'm up in Boston and have today and tomorrow off, and I want to spend at least a portion of each day figuring out (some of) my life. I say this fully aware how often I've variously done so before: asserted a need for change, described how I was going to do it, made an attempt, then fallen off in the follow-through. I'm honestly not sure what to do about that, though. It frustrates me now just as much as eve

Sarracenia 'Ennui.'

I mentioned in a recent post  that even hybrids of the same species can demonstrate disparate variety. Which is the case with the other cultivar I discovered. Yes; there's another. I could go into how this variety among hybrids should surprise no one, but I'm not here to teach you genetics (poorly). No, I want to talk about my other big cultivar-related excitement: Sarracenia 'Ennui,' or so it's being called for now. I guess it's semiofficial now that I've "announced" it in a blog post. Welp. (My main hesitation in calling it this is that the name may already been claimed. But I think it's an  awesome  name for a plant and peculiarly kind of perfect for this one: It's got this muted glamour that feels not only somehow French but also weirdly existential...?) I found this beauty at Meadowview Biological Research Station . The other half of the main plant can still be found there, by the way, and that nursery has a gorgeous array of o