MoPod Show 2.0 - Gay Comedy Podcast

Bread.  The carb mafia have scared us away from it for years, but the truth is that, especially in whole grain forms, bread can be really good for you.  I recommend finding a good local bakery that skip the preservatives, keeps things whole grain, and has an circa 1986 dancing muscle man making the bread.

We saw this movie as a short before the feature while out in LA last week. We laughed our asses off while being incredibly horrified. Now I get to share the experience with all over you! My favorite part is when he can’t stop the bleeding AND reach the paper towels. I mean, who can’t relate to that?

If you have a beer handy, you might consider taking a drink every time he says “OH MY GOD!”. Better yet, grab a few beers. You’ll need them.

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One my favorite things from my weekend in Hollywood was Saturday night’s late show at the ‘silent movie theatre‘. The place was very cool and although it was once dedicated to silent films, these days it has much more of a rock and roll art house feel. We happened upon the final piece in their current series: “Holyfuckingshit- Comedy Gore”. The movie we saw was Riki Oh! And it was a total blood fest complete with awful dialogue badly translated. A must see to believe. One of my favorite things was this very corrupt associate warden who had a double hook for a hand and a glass eye. He could remove his eye which was hollow and filled with tiny breath mints. WFT?!

Just to give you a taste of this crazy movie, I found a clip on youtube featuring Riki fighting one of his many many enemies, Oscar. For my money, Oscar (and his tatoos) is probably the hottest of the men to be demolished by Riki. You have to give extra credit to anyone who has “the guts” to attempt to strangle their opponent with their intestines.

Obviously, if you get the chance…SEE THIS MOVIE. Preferably with the really bad english translations.

As you can probably tell from the past few years of shows and posts, we enjoy watching movies.  We even enjoy watching movies whose expiration date has long since expired.  I credit Peasha with opening my eyes to the B-Movie horror genre and Willow Cathiter for leading me to the beauty of the 1980’s drama thriller.  My current roommate, whom we’ll call “Crouching Tiger” has tried for months to lead us toward a nirvana of gay movie bliss.  There’s only one problem.  Gay movies suck!!!

How is it possible that an industry with so many gay people in it is incapable of producing a great movie about gay people?  How is it that so many gay actors playing gay roles end up looking like charicatures of a stereotype with a cheeky wink?

At first I thought his problem with gay movies was just bad judgement; an isolated incident.  But after month after month of seeing him come home all wide eyed with the possibility of THIS being the one…the movie that would speak to a generation of gay men…the movie that would inspire us all to something greater…the movie that would prove once and for all that we had something more to say than “i’m coming out”, “HIV sucks”, and “serial dating is a really big problem”… I have lost all hope.

Last night he brought home “Soul Maid“.  As he showed it to me, he was careful to cover up the hot man on the case so I wouldn’t know that was exactly why he picked it out.  He also was careful to tell me that the this movie doesn’t take itself too seriously (a frequent criticism of mine).  I fought back the eye roll and we threw it in the DVD player.

Okay…from the first 5 minutes of the story where we learn about a gay man who cleans houses in his underwear for money and has spiritual visions about his dating life during seizures.  I knew we were in trouble.  And there was my roommate, even as he was being assaulted by this shiteous movie, apologizing for it while he still gazed forward at the screen hoping for a miracle.   It was like watching a lifetime movie play out in my living room.  I need to watch some lifetime movie channel to figure out how Meredith Baxter Berney would handle this situation.  I’m thinking we may need an intervention.

I want to start by saying that once again it is my own fault for sitting through an 80’s dance fight movie. I should know better. After all, I grew up in the era of Electric Boogaloo. This movie seemed to have a new twist on the street kids “fighting for their lives with dance” theme: all the dance-fight action happens on rooftops in New York City. VERY CLEVER.

The hot protagonist is “T”. I’m not sure why he is called “T”. Maybe a nod to “Mr. T” or maybe just an acknowledgment that his wardrobe is made up of only t-shirts. At any rate, “T” is locked in a death battle with “Lobo” the coke dealer with tranny fingernails. Caught in the middle is his Puerto Rican girlfriend and a small graffiti spraying kid named Squirt who always wears a duster coat spray painted to look like a prop from an early Prince video.

By the end, I was close to jumping off a roof, myself. Somehow, we turned our attitude around and found a new mission. Anndroid, Mona, Djave and I headed out onto the street to look for drug dealers who we could stop with our hip hop karate dance moves. Hai-yah!

Take a look: imdb-video-player-rooftops

No clues! No motives! No end to the Madness! In this 1980’s thriller slasher a cast of incapable actors stumbles through a hodge podge of cliche scenes featuring a psychic stock car driver (with really nice pecs) and a parade of frizzy haired bimbos ( including the incomparable Tracy Lords) who get shot in the face by a madman in a black duster.

Although I am never overly optimistic about the movies that “the
Mikes” and Anndroid pick out, I had hope because the sight of Jan Michael Vincent’s name on the box. I had a huge crush on JMV from his early work and his amazing body in tight t shirts. I think maybe he was lobatamized before they started filming.

The plot was razor thin, but they did try to beef it up by throwing in an incestual twist in which the leading man was both the brother and father of Tracy Lord’s character, ironically named Gina. Without giving everything away…let’s just say that when psychic stock car drivers are forced to impregnate their mothers and then watch their fathers shoot said mother in the face, it leads to problems.

The costuming was particularly “period” and one of our favorite scenes features the reporter/love interest dashing through a parking garage in her neglage, a jacket, and TENNIS SHOES! See picture below: