Monday, October 17, 2011

Oh, my!

A man breaks into a house to look for money and guns. Inside, he finds a couple in bed. He orders the guy out of the bed and ties him to a chair.
While tying the home owner's wife to the bed, the convict gets on top of her, kisses her neck, then gets up & goes into the bathroom.

While he's in there, the husband whispers over to his wife, "Listen, this guy is an escaped convict. Look at his clothes! He's probably spent a lot of time in jail and hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw how he kissed your neck. If he wants sex, don't resist, don't complain ... do whatever he tells you. Satisfy him no matter how much he nauseates you. This guy is obviously very dangerous. If he gets angry, he'll kill us both. Be strong, honey. I love you!"

His wife responds, "He wasn't kissing my neck. He was whispering in my ear. He told me that he's gay, thinks you're cute, and asked if we had any Vaseline. I told him it was in the bathroom. Be strong honey. I love you too."

Amity Island Harbor Master Frank Silva says, "Ah, the true measure of a man. Would ye be ridin' the baloney pony to save the life of yer wifey? Not so quick to answer, is ye?"

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Church Humor

A pastor's wife was expecting a baby, so he stood before the congregation and asked for a raise. After much discussion, they passed a rule that whenever the preacher's family expanded, so would his paycheck.

After 6 children, this started to get expensive and the congregation decided to hold another meeting to discuss the preacher's expanding salary. A great deal of yelling and inner bickering ensued, as to how much the clergyman's additional children were costing the church, and how much more it could potentially cost.

After listening to them for about an hour, the pastor rose from his chair and spoke, 'Children are a gift from God, and we will take as many gifts as He gives us'. Silence fell on the congregation.

In the back pew, a little old lady struggled to stand, and finally said in her frail voice, 'Rain is also a gift from God, but when we get too much of it, we wear rubbers..'

The entire congregation said, 'Amen..'

Internet addict Pornocat says, "I don't get it...?"

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


The room was full of pregnant women with their partners. The class was in full swing. The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe and was telling the men how to give the necessary assurance to their partners at this stage of the pregnancy.

She said "Ladies, remember that exercise is good for you. Walking is especially beneficial. It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier. Just take several stops and stay on a soft surface like grass or a path."

She looked at the men in the room, "and Gentlemen, remember -- You're in this together -- It wouldn't hurt you to go walking with her."

The room suddenly got very quiet as the men absorbed this information.

Then a man at the back of the room slowly raised his hand.

"Yes," answered the Instructor.

"I was just wondering if it would be all right if she carries a golf bag
While we walk?"

Internet addict Pornocat says, "I don't think this post is funny at all. Golfing is an elitist pastime and I do not approve. No, sir. And until you start writing about porn and posting pictures of sexy women, I shall stop reading your blog. Meow!"

Saturday, September 03, 2011



Marines in Afghanistan have reportedly been told not to pass gas around Afghans to avoid offending the indigenous population. That's right, now any leatherneck who lets one rip on patrol with Afghans nearby could receive a talk from his superior officer.
The new flatulence restriction was first picked up by the Military Times and has since become fodder for online discussion ranging from the curious to the ridiculous. A few military bloggers have taken it seriously and found the ban to be indicative of a trend among military brass of bending over backwards to avoid offending the locals. Others have pointed out that a culture that has allowed stoning, various forms of execution, and amputations as penalties for criminal offenses should be able to withstand a little passed gas.
The new regulation is not covered in the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the military has not even confirmed it exists. For now, the "fart ban" appears to be simply a guideline for good manners while Marines are out on patrol.


Guardian of the Universe Gamera says, "And now it's political humor and fart jokes. If this is a sign of blogs to come I may stop reading."


Amity Island Harbor Master Frank Silva says, "Aye, tis pathetic. And believe me when I say the worst part is this is no joke. Tis really discourteous to be breakin tha wind in front of brown people. We had a similar restriction back in me Navy days. We weren't allowed to have sex with each other, as to not disrupt our morale."

Wednesday, August 24, 2011



The English language has some wonderfully anthropomorphic collective nouns for the various groups of animals.

We are all familiar with a Herd of cows, a Flock of chickens, a School of fish and a Gaggle of geese.

However, less widely known is a Pride of lions, a Murder of crows (as well as their cousins the rooks and ravens), an Exaltation of doves and, presumably because they look so wise, a Parliament of owls.

Now consider a group of Baboons. They are the loudest, most dangerous, most obnoxious, most viciously aggressive and least intelligent of all primates. And what is the proper collective noun for a group of baboons? Believe it or not ....... a Congress!

Education and entertainment.

Guardian of the Universe Gamera says, "So this is what it's come to, Turz? Political humor? Really?"

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Arcade Memoirs, Vol. I ~ The Ballad of Marcos

Marcos is a homeless guy I met my first month on the island. I gave a friend a ride to Tripler Army Hospital for an appointment and Marcos was in the lobby for no particular reason other than to play his guitar and serenade the sick.
He wasn't any good, but I admired the sentiment. I went to Tripler 3 times in two onths and he was always there.
Some months later, I was in Waikiki admiring the prostitutes one night when lo and behold, there was Marcos in a bus stop, two blocks from the beach, playing his guitar. He hadn't gotten any better, but hey, it was Marcos; on another part of the island.

What a coincidence.

And now, some more months later, I see Marcos on a regular basis, as he is a regular customer at the adult arcade gig I snagged on Hotel Street. Nowadays I see Marcos almost every day.

It's such a small island...

Anyways- you may be wondering why Marcos is the focus of my premiere installment of The Arcade Memoirs and if you're not, you've probably stopped reading by now. So I'd better continue without further dispatch...
Last Sunday while I was in the middle of a 16 hour shift, he strolls in and announced that he had been sleeping all morning on Waikiki Beach but was still soooooo tiiiiired. So tired. After sleeping all morning on the beach at Waikiki. (It's amazing what some people take for granted, no? Here he is, living the dream of literally millions of people on the mainland and he blows it off like I do a pleasant fart.)
After I explained that I had no interest in hearing his tale of how he accomplished absolutely nothing that day, I politely requested that he buzz the hell off! Afterwhich he smiled and shuffled away to the pits of our private peepshow booths to watch a little PRON. That was the last anyone saw of Marcos for the next 45 minutes.

Once he got that out of his system, he had a new itch to scratch; video games! He dug deep in his pockets for the last of his loose change. A dime, two nickels and five pennies. He asked to trade them in for a quarter. He gave me the coins, and they stuck to my hand!!!


Dr. Jekyll took a back seat to Mr. Hyde as I was just a sniff away from tearing him a new a**hole. I would have too, but I was too disgusted to touch him. He started to clean off the coins on his shirt. "NO FRIGGING WAY!" I explained to him, as calmly as I possibly could. I told him to go to the restroom and clean each coin individually with soap and water while I dumped half a bottle of hand sanitizer on my hands and face. FREE-KING GROSS, DUDE.

Feel free to leave snide comments. Go ahead, get it out of your system. But know this; such is the manner of tales you may expect to read about in future episodes of The Arcade Memoirs. Abandon all hope, ye who dare to read my stuff.

The impatient ghost of Robert Shaw says, "Bloody Christ! I would prefer to read your tawdry, pedantic, opinionated bantering about pornographic cinema than this filthy mess! At least pornography is fanciful fiction. This tale is so disgusting it must be a true story. This makes me wish the afterlife had a Pub."

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Separated at Birth (almost nsfw, but acceptable)

My blogging hiatus has not been in vain. I assure you, the time I was not here, acting as custodian of Turzman Central has been spent on an edification project of scholarly proportions.

This is what I've been wrapping my brain around for the last three and a half months...

If anyone were to ever produce and distribute a XXX NASCAR porn parody, the role of Danica Patrick must be played by India Summer. Ergo, the proof...

Danica Patrick ~

India Summer ~

Yes. This is what I've been contemplating since April. Excessive obsession? Possibly. But I'm right, ain't I? Here, look again...

Danica Patrick ~

India Summer ~

Need more proof?

Danica Patrick ~

India Summer ~

I can do this all day.

Danica Patrick ~

India Summer ~

If I'm wrong about this, I DO NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT!
By the way, if this post is NSFW, you seriously need a new job.
Feel free to leave comments.

Amity Island Harbor Master Frank Silva says, "Tis nice to see Turzman's still thinkin with ye small head rather than the correct one. I was afraid maybe ye spent the time recoverin from the scurvy, or whatever it is that ails ya. But ye still be sick in tha head and all is as it should be."

Internet addict Pornocat says, "I agree and I think God does too. Why else would India Summer look ten years younger than she really is? To play a woman who actually is ten years younger than she is. If that's not Divine Intervention, then God is wasting everybody's time. Meow."

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

A Priest and a Rabbi...

A priest and a rabbi go to a boxing match together.
Popcorn and beer in hand, butts in seats, they both
eagerly await an exciting fight night.

As the pugilists enter the ring, the rabbi notices
one of the fighters crosses himself after saying a

The rabbi asked the priest, "Why did he cross himself?
What does that mean?"

The priest answered, "It doesn't mean a damned thing
if he can't fight!"


ps- I'm back...

Guardian of the Universe Gamera says, "Big deal. I didn't miss you. Nah, jus kiddin. Welcome back, Turz."

Saturday, April 02, 2011

Tales from the PRON Shop: The Final Chapter

Or, Why I Don't Go to Church on Sundays, Reason # 537,930,993,220,402,189,349,105,286,345,833,445,223,109,099,040,389,289,420.

Me, in my Paradise within Paradise.

Don't think I'm exaggerating with that number. If I took the time to list all my personal reasons for not going to church, and worshiping a deity that, let's face it, no organized religion (see: CULT) has gotten right, I would probably come up with a comparable number, if not higher.
Indeed, only this morning, God and the state of Hawaii united against me and gave me two more reasons. But those are for another blog at another time. And you can bet your ASS there will be another blog at another time.

But first, the last days of my beloved Wahiawa PRON store.

But before that, a precursor...

Many years ago, I made an arrangement with God. No, not a deal with the Devil (although I'm starting to think the Devil would have been more trustworthy), an arrangement with the Big Boss himself. "Stay out of my life and I'll stay out of yours." It was that simple. I never fell for the fairy tale bullsh*t every pastor, reverend, rabbi and shaman on the planet preached. It amazed me how all these different religions preached exactly the same thing and yet purported to be better than all the rest. What amazed me even further was the staggering number of idiots that did fall for it and how few correctly agreed with me. Apply some basic logic, reason and common sense and suddenly, the stories in the Bible are no different than the canons of Mother Goose and the Brothers Grimm. But I held my tongue.
Yes, out of respect for the throngs of morons I insufferably deal with daily (whom, ironically I have NO respect for) I made my peace with their ignorance and kept my mouth shut. I told God I would not try to show these mouth-breathers how stupid they were, and let them live their blissfully ignorant lives with the stipulation that He Himself would not interfere with my personal goals and happiness. I think the arrangement was more than fair.

The Gas face on 3rd shift, dealing with the Wahiawa night owls.

Well, only one of us kept their side of the bargain. Wanna guess who was the underhanded, sniveling shyster that broke the deal? Here's a hint; it was the all loving, all forgiving, almighty Yahweh that reneged, not the imperfect, originally sinful, impossibly flawed mortal.
God, being jealous and spiteful, made it a point to go out of His way to ensure I was miserable. For decades, He was there at every crossroads, to make sure I took the wrong path, no matter which way I went. I would take one step forward, and He would violently knock me seven steps back.

"What's this?" he would bellow at me, "You dare not to fall for my bullsh*t, like every other one of your kind?"
"No," was my humble reply. "I don't buy it, I think you're full of yourself. Your rules are unreasonable and contradictory and I want no part of it. But you seem to have a good scam going on here, so ah salud, more power to you, and let's just part ways."

But of course, that is too reasonable and logical for God's tastes. So I've endured decades of misery and disappointment, when all I wanted out of life was to be happy, and pay my rent. That's it. I never wanted an exorbitant amount of wealth or power. And I have made it a point to be as honest and moral as a person who doesn't buy what God is selling can possibly be. Looking at my station in life, that has gotten me nowhere. I'm honest to a fault and after 40 years, I regret never becoming a professional criminal. But I digress.

Nutshell; God broke our deal and made me miserable. Thus endeth the precursor.

Imagine my surprise when I found a job that,
a) I absolutely adored,
b) was very, very good at, and
c) actually provided enough money to pay all the bills!

One of the last times I was content. I think it was a Tuesday.

I was *gulp* HAPPY?!?!?!
I almost didn't recognize it. Happiness. After years and years of undeserved bad luck and trouble, Life was finally not fu*king me anally sans lube. I shouted from the rooftops, "HALLELUJAH! I am finally happy!"
I really was! I even said so on this very blog and on my Facebook posts. I even broke down and thanked God for not interfering with me anymore. I figured, after all that time struggling and fighting an entity that cannot be defeated, He finally gave in and left me alone.

That proved to be a horrible, horrible error on my part, as God called in His darkest, and most dastardly, unholy ogre to sit on my head and fart.
Allow me to introduce His most evil minion; an absurd cult that calls itself Surfing the Nations.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet The Enemy.

Surfing the mutha-fu*king Nations. Let me tell you about this gaggle of kumkwats. They are a collection of surfing co*ksuckers. (see: SURFERS) who, behind the facade of a church group, convince other church groups (see: IDIOTS) to give them money so they can exploit God and the bible. They take their ill-gotten gains and go on surfing safaris the world over.

Did you get that? I'll repeat it, because it's kind of important.
To keep up appearances, on the second Tuesday of each month they give food to Wahiawa's poor and homeless, which, if you don't know Wahiawa is pretty much every native resident of that town. And believe me, the poor show up en masse for all the free grub.
What the poor don't know (and probably don't care about, to be fair) is that STN purchased two plots of property next to the PRON shop. A bar (Wahiawa's last good bar, from what I'm told) and a low rent apartment complex behind it, thus putting a bar owner out of business, his employees out of work, and dozens of families out of their homes.
You know, God's work.

Open a dictionary and look up "disgraceful" and you'll see this picture.

Next, they set their sights on what is now the defunct Divine Pleasures, my beloved PRON shop and former employer.

You see, STN wanted their temple to be in a facility that was not next door to an adult theater and had parking, so naturally they bought a plot that had no parking and was next door to an adult theater.
You know, logic, common sense and reason.

They offered to buy the property. My bosses said they were not going out of business and were not interested in selling. In short, no thank you.
If God had any decency at all, that would have been the end of it. But since God practically defines indecency, the cult could not and would not take "no" for an answer.

The last of the lovely ladies from the Lesbian section.

The cult called on their natural bedfellows, corrupt city officials, and lined their pockets with some of that "God money" and the city ensued to make life miserable for Divine Pleasures.
We had planned to upgrade the theater and arcade, while adding a few private rooms. We planned to downgrade our DVD inventory (as it is a dying medium) to make room for different merchandise. The possibilities were endless and we were all excited.
But the upgrades meant bringing the building up to code, and this is where politicians chose to side with the Evil Empire and c*ck blocked us at every turn. We would hire contractors to do the upgrades and four days into the project, along would come the City with a cease and desist order.
Then we would receive official threats of closure from the city if the building was not up to code. But we couldn't code the building because the city stopped the upgrades.
Do you see the pretty little circle created there? All the while, the cultists sat back on their worthless haunches as inspectors did their dirty work.
You know, like Christ would do.

Not anymore. Not in Wahiawa, at least.

Long story short (I know, too late), my bosses got tired of fighting a battle they never would have won, and sold out.
So basically, I have to go on unemployment because some stupid cult needs a parking lot.
Ever since I made my arrangement with God, and during the time he was ignoring it, I looked at religion (see: CULTS) from a different perspective. Instead of being an insider trapped in a place I never wanted to be in the first place, I was an outsider looking in. I looked at the state of the entire world, pretty much from a new angle. I see what God allows to happen. I see evil prospering. I see bad people thriving. I see good people struggling. Kindness is never rewarded. Those who break the rules and cheat reap all kinds of rewards. All this while a god who supposedly "loves" us, sits back and giggles his ass off. I used to think he sat back and did nothing, but I'm sure he gets a kick out of seeing innocent creatures suffer. Or else, why would he allow it to happen? To test our faith? Pardon my french, but FUCK THAT. I liken God to a child and the Earth is His ant-farm. Every time he gets bored, he shakes the ant-farm and chuckles at all the chaos. The worst part is this child never grows up and never matures.

Travesty. A mega-deplorable travesty. All due to the whim of cultists.

There are some who might think I'm wrong. They might think the forces of good defeated the forces of evil on this day. Well I'm here to tell you to fu*k off. There was nothing good out of this. Porn is a beautiful thing and everyone wants it. Those who won't admit that are the ones with the problem, not those of us who love it and are not ashamed. I bet anything we would be hard pressed to find any cultist that has half the courage it takes to be a porn star or stripper. Fu*k you all, and fu*k your shoes of the Goody-Two variety. Keep living your lives, your god's will is being done, and it doesn't matter at whose expense, as you see it.

Goodbye, old friend. None of this was your fault.

Amen, assholes.

Guardian of the Universe Gamera says, "Your blog offends me today. I would delete you from my Facebook if you weren't right about this and so justified in being bitter. Plus I find it very difficult to take serious the concept of a 'god' when I'm 200 feet tall and can take down skyscrapers with my atomic fire breath."

Internet addict Pornocat says, "Wait a minute, does this mean you won't be getting any more dirty movies with an employee discount? How will you sustain your addiction? Who will I borrow porn from? This is horrible! Meow."

Amity Island Harbor Master Frank Silva says, "I always felt these skin flicks o' yers were birthed from the briniest depths o' Davey Jones' locker and are scurvy filth. But ye right in yer assessment o' churches and stupid people. Ironically, despite right n wrong, ye will be goin' ta Hell for today's post just as sure as the summer dinks be comin' to Amity to keep our businesses afloat!"


Tuesday, February 22, 2011

"The Shadow out of Time"

The Great Race seemed to form a single, loosely knit nation or league, with major institutions in common, though there were four definite divisions. The political and economic system of each unit was a sort of fascistic socialism, with major resources rationally distributed, and power delegated to a small governing board elected by the votes of all able to pass certain educational and psychological tests. Industry, highly mechanized, demanded but little time from each citizen; and the abundant leisure was filled with intellectual and aesthetic activities of various sorts. The sciences were carried to an unbelievable height of development, and art was a vital part of life.

~~ H. P. Lovecraft
The Shadow out of Time

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

"Would you say I had a plethora of gifts...?"

Yes, El Guapo, yes you do.
As do I...

The young bandito didn't know what a plethora was when inquired about such by El Guapo, but if I had any doubt what a "plethora of gifts" was, I was given a clear cut example yesterday.

Yes friends, another birthday has come and gone, and despite reaching the insufferable 4-0, (a target by the way, I did not expect to reach when I was in my twenties) this was the first birthday in a long time where I was not depressed at all. Let me take you through my day...

5am- alarm goes off. There was no need to arise so early, but for some reason I wanted to be conscience for the bulk of this particular occasion. I didn't know why, and this is also almost the exact opposite of my plans for birthdays past. Sleeping them away was always preferable to being awake. Go figure...

5:30am- get out of the shower, get dressed, walk across the street to Denny's. I had been thinking of this for months because Mr. Denny has been kind enough in the past to give a free Grand Slam Breakfast to people on their birthdays. The fact that they hadn't stopped that promotion on this very day suggested my luck had definitely turned.

Eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, toast, juice and coffee. A legendary breakfast, to say the least.

On top of that, a phone call to my parents on this, their anniversary. Breakfast with mom and dad, with 3000 miles of ocean between us, but it felt as if they were sitting across the table from me. The time flew by...

7am- hop in the car and trek to the Wahiawa Porn Shop to meet Matt, my friend and co-worker who was on a mission to get a bunch of Valentine sh*t for his wife and deliver them to her at work. Dippy, saccharin infested romantic bullsh*t; not usually my cup of tea. But he needed a ride and asked for my help. I figured, what the hell, my calendar was open. Mission accomplished, with an assist from the birthday boy.

10:30am- go home. I popped the iPod into the docking station, set it to shuffle and hit play. A litany of musical all-stars made it a point to serenade me all day long while I sat and answered all my Facebook posts. And this is what amazed me the most...
Waiting for me were over sixty birthday messages. In the last five years, I don't think I had sixty birthday messages between Facebook and mySpace combined. It was a humbling experience to read and answer all the notes while, wafting through the air of my bedroom amongst the cigarette smoke, were the sounds of Billy Joel, Frank Sinatra, Bad Religion, Flotsam & Jetsam, the Ramones, Machinehead, Slayer, Men At Work, Killer Dwarfs, Supersuckers, the Reverend Horton Heat, Kittie, Death Angel, Rush, Iron Maiden, Tamela D'Amico, Social Distortion, Cadillac Tramps, Jerry Lee Lewis, Devo, Mozart, Beethoven, Liszt, and a 1970's disco compilation among others. The hours flew by at an almost alarming rate.

3pm (approx)- a phone call from Steve, Alex and Joey from New York. Thanks guys, love you all.

4pm- some quality time with the dog. Sonny, my little guy, my best friend. Seeing as he was a birthday present to me back in 2005, he had an extra-special birthday lunch too. A mix of Pedigree wet and dry with a marrow nugget, Milk Bone and ice water. He was pleasantly surprised. Then we went for a long walk. He pooped.

6pm- nap time. I had to pull an all-niter selling PRON on the Good Stuff Express, so a nap was essential to recharge my batteries. I was refreshed.

9:15pm- off to work. It was early, so I made a side trip to McDonald's with a fist full of gift certificates I had been saving for a special occasion. I have not eaten Mickey D's in over 15 years because they are so horrible, but I had the coupons so I decided to throw caution into the wind...
Big Mac, Quarter Pounder with cheese, fries and a super-sized coke. They tasted exactly the same as I fondly remember. It was like reuniting with a long lost friend. It's comforting to know some things never change.

Later that evening I pooped a little bit of blood with my stool. Unfortunately some things never change. But I can go another 15 years without McDonald's.

11pm- sold some sex. Always a good time.

12 midnight- Birthday officially over.

The only thing missing was the extra sensual, Valentine birthday date night, which the work schedule did not allow. But I have slated time on my next day off for all that, which gives me time to decide who, among the hundreds of porn stars at my renting disposal, will come home with me.

Feel free to leave suggestions but please, don't try to be funny and suggest any of the guys. I never learned how to switch hit.

Thanks to all for making my day great with Facebook posts. For those who didn't, oh well. I didn't expect too much anyway.

Feliz cumpleanos a mi, pendejos! Jajajajaja!

Internet addict Pornocat says, "There isn't enough bandwidth on all the Net for me to list my reasons and suggestions for your date night, so I'll leave that decision in your capable paws. Happy birthday, meow."

Saturday, February 05, 2011

Tales from the PRON Shop (safe)

It has been way too long since I shared the cummings of life in the Wahiawa Porn Shop with you, but the fact is, not much has been happening in the past months. Literally.

Sales have plummeted since the autumn. Christmas came and went where we saw a slight increase in the hump on the bar graph, but it was not as high as it should have been.
January was a figurative dead zone, despite a 40% sale off ALL merchandise. Scary rumors were rampant and morale was low.

Welcome, February! Here and now, in the early dawn of 2011's Valentine Season, something has changed; LOVE appears to be in the air. A shallow, quickie, one night of just a lil fun love, but love nonetheless. Thanks to young couples in love and gaggles of lonely soldiers this Friday and Saturday has been my personal best, 2-day sales period since joining the Divine Pleasures Ohana.

With one day left in the weekend and still another week before that bastard Cupid crawls out of his hole to look for his shadow, I expect this to be a monster week in sales. Thank God for the universal concept of horny. We are all horny and should act accordingly.

In celebration of this Valentine season, I would like to add another gem to my collection of Girls I really, really wanna have sex with, but who wouldn't gallery. The super-duper, mega lovely and talented India Summer...

India Summer can be seen in the upcoming Star Trek: The Next Generation: A XXX Parody and this is one of the strongest infatuations I have ever had. Next time you're on Facebook, check out her fan page as well as the Divine Pleasures fan page.

Until next time, stay horny because it's a sign that you're still alive. Support your local PRON shop. Porn is a beautiful thing.

Amity Island Harbor Master Frank Silva says, "Damn ye, Turz. If yer still gonna watch that filth at least write ye movie reviews and post pictures for the deviant vermin that peruse ye scurvy blog."

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

Blizzard Humor

Inquiry: What is the worst way to survive a blizzard?


Guardian of the Universe Gamera says, "Atomic fire breath isn't such a stupid idea now, eh?"

Saturday, January 22, 2011

"On a Dark & Stormy Night" returns from the dead...

Unlike it's ensemble cast of characters who met ugly demises, the motion picture On a Dark & Stormy Night has been dug up from the grave and a resurrection attempt of Frankensteinian proportions is under way.

The film, shot in 2007, is still unreleased to date despite showings at three film festivals between 2009-2010, two awards and generally positive criticism. By the end of 2010 though, all parties involved had deflated attitudes about a potential national distribution of the film on DVD.
However, early in 2011 a critique of Stormy Night mysteriously appeared at Cold Fusion Video Reviews, and this week it was announced the film has gained acceptance to the Indy Horror Film Festival in Dekalb, Illinois.

Armed with the power of positive thinking and a fan page on Facebook, the cast, crew and producers are again hopeful On a Dark & Stormy Night will have a distribution deal sometime this year.

To the handful of viewers who have seen the film, we ask for your continued support. Go to the Facebook page and suggest it to your friends. Read the Cold Fusion review and leave comments.

Please don't force us to resort to bribing you with autographs and memorabilia from the film.