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He leered, and she did not conceal her cleavage, and God saw that it was good
Jerry Lee's cousin, Rev. Jimmy Lee Swaggart, was not present at this momentous event, but he was there in spirit--eating his heart out.
Images courtesy of the POPKRAZY TRASH HEAP
Death Proof, a masterpiece of exploiting exploitation films as the second film in the Grindhouse experience
Anybody remember the infamously snide take on the Velvet Underground? You know, everyone who bought their records must have started or joined a band, considering every other hipster band named them as a chief influence, yet no one really bought their records. (I guess the same thing could apply to the Replacements or the Pixies, except they weren’t quite so influential, and certainly not as consistently great.)
Of course a true rock snob like myself bought and devoured their five releases, ‘cept I started with 1970’s Loaded after hearing “Rock and Roll” on local college free form FM radio (Brown University’s WBRU to be exact) sometime during my teen daze, and once I spotted the first album (with the, gulp, banana cover) at the catalog-deep record shop I dug down enough into my coin and dust filled pockets to buy that, with the others soon following. (Yeah, yeah, yeah I bought backwards, but I still BOUGHT.)
In the late '70s, disco video was all the rage. TV programs such as Kicks, Hot City, and Soap Factory Disco marred the broadcast airwaves. As long as folks held the desire to celebrate their beautiful brawn on the set of some sleazy soundstage, the ecstasy prevailed and became perfect visual wallpaper for the winking TV eye.
But for sheer spunk, no disco program ever approached Moon Man Connection which I first experienced on UHF Channel 20 in Washington DC. This low-cost program was visual wallpaper so extreme that its very insubstantiality became hypnotic.