Sunday, May 08, 2011


teenage hoodlum roughnecks who crash parties

until they make the fatal mistake of crashing -

a middle aged quasi orgy!

I will keep watching just to see if it gets any weirder.


Yep. The juvenile delinquent decides to play TORO! TORO!

at the valedictorian’s house with a hoodlum friend

he uses a broken beer bottles for bull horns

and really big matador cocktail napkins.

Oops he slips with his beer bottles.

Now his shirt has blood on it.


Now they’re going to some house they don’t know.

It’s filled with a bunch of old drunk guys.

One old drunk guy locks the door.

Another old drunk guy is taking liberties with a teenage girl.

Screaming now.

Lots of noise and junk.

I think they are mostly old businessmen

and old prostitutes.

They are scary.


Huh? Frances Farmer shows up as the Mom.

I knew that would happen, I’m just pretending

I didn’t. It’s not the weirdest thing.

She seems very dignified.

Her voice is a little gobbledegook.

But she’s really trying. More on this later.


Old guys get more out of hand if you can believe it.

Uh oh. Here comes the police and the ambulance. 

Better get in your T birds and get the hell out of here.


But where are the keys?


Why is everyone so oily?

I mean literally - oily.

Oily teenagers mostly.

I mean oil-in-the-hair oily.


Waiting to see Frances Farmer again.

Not sure if she acts well after the lobotomy.

There she is.

Not bad, but not great. A little distracted.

She seems nice.


Now it's all courtrooms and hospitals.

The alcoholic Mom didn't make it through surgery.

Dad's taking it pretty well.

Frances Farmer is still alive, that’s good.

I think some bonding is coming up.

Frances Farmer goes somewhere else.

It’s almost here.

You can really taste it.


The son comes into the hospital.

He’s a juvenile delinquent.

His Mom is dead.

His Father doesn’t understand him.

His hair is pretty oily of course.

The good guy’s is, too.


The Dad looks up and sees his son.

The son sees Dad and stops.

The Dad puts his drink down.

Dad is alive.

Son is alive.

They walk towards each other.

They are in the hospital.

It’s at least three a.m.


I thought so.

Here it comes.

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