No, not me.
I'm not so sure I'd trust the devil's floor game.
Pitchfork'll get in the way.
BECAUSE IT'S BUSY TWIRLING SOMEONE'S GUTS LIKE SPAGHETTI!
Remember when the internets was cool, when you could type in
and NOT return page after page of Pitchfork®-approved® hipster indie-electro-punk-post-whatever bands? 80s hair shit or this striped-shirt beardo crap, cockroaches climbing over my string quartet power chording black tees, clap your hands say fuck off. It's entirely plausible that my The Google-Fu is the contents of a septic tank, in fact I'm Shirley Serious, but is the second Friday the 13th the only source where there's a pitchfork that might even possibly maybe have some of the red stuff dripping off, pretty please?
Maybe I'm just lazy.
Skinemax used to play this flick over and over in the primeval days of cable. I think I had a mini-crush on Amy Steel. Check out that determination.
Yes, part of the blame lies with the torture pornography industry that insists on devising ever more esoteric ways of slicing and dicing, where o where has my pitchfork gone, where o where could old-fashioned pitchfork DVD stills clogging the tubes beeeee?.
Insert clever quip here.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
No, not me.