For Christmas last year, my sister Heidi got me 2 sets of 12 double sided DVD's containing 50 horror movies per set. So I got 100 horror films for Christmas, which is a beautiful thing. These sets contain everything from true classics, like Night of the Living Dead and Bad Taste, to utter horsecrap like The Legend of Big Foot and Track of the Moon Beast. So, when nothing's on TV and the boys at Netflix are a little slow in coming with the next gem, I've been taking in one of these babies. For the most part, they've been fairly entertaining, but tonight I was subjected to a little film called The Beast of Yucca Flats. Tor Johnson "stars" as a brilliant scientist (we know this because the narrator geek tells us) who is transformed into the titular murderous monster (we know this because they slap some oatmeal on his face) after he's exposed to radiation from an atomic bomb blast. Apparently, sound was dubbed after this lovely thing was shot, because you never actually see anyone talking. During the sparse dialogue scenes the camera either cuts to the listener, or we see the back of people's heads while they speak, or the frame does not even include their heads. Tor grunts and howls a few times whilst chasing two lost kids around a military missile testing site, but is so fat he can never seriously be considered as a threat to them. Tor could most certainly have never caught them even if they were lugging sacks of cement along on two broken legs. Truly awful, but has to be seen to be believed. Just not by me. Never again.

The Olympics seem to still be going on, so I have locked myself in this room with three thirty-packs of beer (that's 90 beers, and that's the second time I've had to do math in this post,) a fistful of Arturo Fuentes, a grocery bag full of beef jerky, and a ten pack of Pez refills for Boba Fett, and I'm not coming out until someone tells me the Olympics are over. I have 7 vacation days coming that I have to use up by May, so I'm covered. And that's all I'm going to say about the frigging Olympics. Until next time anyway, because I've got a take on that drunk skiier guy.