The Blonde Next Door, 1982.

Now, I’m willing to admit: this is awful, awful porn, with an awful, awful premise, and I don’t care.  I LOVE this one. I do. It’s the perfect bad 80′s porno, and I share this with love.  Embrace the cheese, people.

So.

We begin with Cindy and John.  John is the world’s lousiest lover, so he listens to these instruction records that tell him, step-by-step, how to please the ladies.

As you can see, John is no George Clooney.  Alas, so few of us are.

This, predictably, does not work. I do desperately hope that some hipster has that record on vinyl though, and that he’s sampling it for dubstep right this very moment.

Apply gentle pressure to her clitoris. Apply gentle pressure to her clitoris. Apply gentle pressure to her clitoris. Apply gentle pressure to her clitoris.

Awesome.

So poor Cindy decides that this state of affairs will not stand, and she strikes out, leaving… a Dear John letter.

Embrace that cheese. No, wait. Apply gentle pressure to the cheese.

She immediately runs into Real Estate Agent / Swindler / Mustachioed Lothario, Barry Horne.

Yup. You read that. Barry Fucking Horne. Hell yeah.

Why hello there, Mr. Horne….

She immediately submits to mad, misty, gas-guzzling boat-mobile sex with him in exchange for a ride.

You might think this is the worst thing that could happen to a lone girl, in 1982, who’s had gentle pressure applied to her lady parts.

But, this is just the beginning.

So, old Barry Horne goes back to his office where he deals with a weird farmer guy:

I HAVE NO IDEA. IT WAS THE 80′S, MAN. THE 80′S.

And his super hot, super awesome secretary, with the best porn wardrobe ever, decides that there’s just something new about Barry.  She’s dealt with his Mad Men-style sexual harassment before, but now he’s just… irresistible.

For some reason, Barry just smells good.

Hark! A fragrant!

Barry and Charlene realize that he has amazing woman-attracting pheromones  stuck in his epic 80′s mustache. Barry thinks real hard (see photo above) and realizes that it must be the lady juices produced by the blonde hitchhiker.

He and Charlene then decide that this is an obvious capitalist opportunity.  They hunt Cindy down and employ a vague veneer of medicine to convince her to start, er, production.

It’s alright. He’s a doctor.

The first batch is such a hit that there’s a weird incest threesome interlude at what I can only assume is Mork and Mindy’s neighbor’s apartment.

Presumably, that’s where Mork scored all his blow.

Nanu, nanu. YES. MORK AND MINDY JOKES. I never claimed to be modern or relevant.

This, of course, means that Cindy is going to be having a lot of sex, which is fortunate, because this is a porn, after all.

Alas, poor Cindy. She hits her limit, eventually.

To my immense disappointment, this is not the beginning of a modern jazz number.

Really, I just want to gaze upon Charlene the Secretary, with her wonderful blue eye shadow. Seriously. That’s monumental blue eye shadow. Also? 80′s perm. Somewhere in my deep childhood-based subconscious  blue eye shadow + perm + gaudy jewelry = BEAUTIFUL LADY.  Fuck you, Disney Princesses. DOLLY PARTON FOREVER.

Eventually, poor Cindy is all tapped out. Even the World’s Greatest Lover cannot wrest even a single drop from her font of wonders.

Yup. That guy. World’s Greatest Lover. You know because he doesn’t wear a shirt.

So, in desperation, Barry and Charlene, and the Music Video Reject Squad cook up a scheme.  They’ll indulge what they imagine will be Cindy’s greatest fantasy…

…being abducted and ravished by homeless extras from the Hawaiian Vacation episodes of The Brady Bunch.

They ALSO get their blow from Mork’s neighbors, okay?

Thankfully, this portion of the movie is short and confusing.

Meanwhile, poor Jilted John and his equally nerdy BFF decide to blow off some steam…

HEEEEEY, LAAAAAAYDEEEEZ.

Out of the pure goodness of their hearts, “blowing off steam” means they watch two women get it on.

I mean, really?  Do you want screen shots of those two dudes going at it?

Yeah.

Didn’t really think so.

So, they watch the two girls go at it, and I guess John picks up some important pointers.

Alas, Barry Horne, professional sleaze artist, ends up in debt to The Villain:

DUN DUN DUN. You can tell he’s the bad guy, because he has fedora and smirk.

Barry explains that the poor girl, she just canna take much more, Cap’n.

But the bad guy isn’t having it.  He swears he can and will get some of the golden juice.  Barry can only watch as the Villain coaxes one final splash.

Creeper Jeremy. The stuff of nightmares.  The scariest story at your campfire. The next time you’re a little spooked in the dark, laying there in your bed, while lightning crashes?  Just picture Creeper Jeremy at the end of your bed.   You’re welcome.

Afterwards, Cindy has just had enough.  She wants her money, dammit.  She is a tiny little blonde stereotype, and they will respect her authoritah!

As you can see, they keep their mad cash safely stowed in clearly labeled burlap sacks.

Charlene and Barry, however, are not having it. They use their expert skills to secure the victim.

Look, I have no idea why this wasn’t a sex scene, but the Curse of the fucking Tiki Doll Gang Bang somehow made the cut. I don’t make these sort of executive decision.

Eventually, by amazing contrivance, Cindy is saved by Dear John, who had heard there was amazing Lady Attraction Juice to be had, and stopped by to see if he could get any.

HER HERO!

And, in the end, we’ve completed Campbell’s Monomyth, and Cindy, much like Luke Skywalker or Jesus, returns home with the prize and a new sense of self.  She and Dear John bottle her Amazing Va Jay Jay Juice on their own and live happily ever after.

The End.

“Until we meet again. Muah ha ha ha ha!”

This thing is actually called “Teens Goin’ Wild 17.” It’s Brazilian, no one ever speaks, and it’s really freaking weird.

And the world needs to know about it, so that I won’t be alone in my confusion.

Honestly, this doesn’t look weird, right? This looks totally boring. IT’S A TRAP.

The film is a three part, two hour long extravaganza from 2006, but I’ll just stick to the Aspiring to Bergman portion.

Bang for buck and all.

So, we begin with… witches.  Lesbian witches.  They dance around a fire.  They bring in the new girl and strip her naked and do lesbian witch things with her.

Witches always bring beach mats to their Sabbats. Duh.

Then, for reasons that aren’t really clear, a hot Lady Vampire shows up!

Bergman would have included more leather jackets, if he’d been a pornographer.

She accepts the witch’s offering with much sneering and eye-squinting.  The camera moves around a lot.  There are filters.  There’s lots of gratuitous shots of the fire.

The vampire does her neck biting thing, and the witches appear to be cowed and terrified.

Nothing says “get your masturbatory fantasies on” like hot chick theater blood.

Now, just a reminder:  This is called Teens Goin Wild 17.

It should, by all rights, involve a lot of clearance furniture from Ikea, pigtails, and neon panties. That’s the Teens + Wild + Random Integer formula.

This is already way out of the ordinary.

And then…

The corpse arrives.

*Sad Trombone Noise*

We endure vaguely necrophilic “lingering over the dead girl” shots.

And, then!

Knights!

I don’t know why!

But… Knights!

Note the Vampire and her evil smile.

The knights fight for a while next to a lake, while distortions and extreme close-ups occur for no particular reason, until one of them is defeated.

He has no idea what’s going on.

Then we cut to The Lake of Mysteries and JC Penney bedroom sets from 1987.

I don’t even know.

The Victim and the Vampire alternate between a daylit lesbian fun time session and grooming at a vanity.

In a bed in a lake.

Dada in a swamp.

While Death and a Mime play chess.

While Death… and a Mime… play chess.

A Mime.

No, really. A Mime.

And, I think maybe I need another shot of whiskey, because holy shit.

NO, I AM NOT KIDDING.

You would need booze, too.

And, then, in the first move that actually doesn’t surprise me, the knight shows up for a little three way action.

Due to budget cuts, Death now has to wear a polyester cloak.

Eventually, Death and the Mime decide to hang out at the head of the bed, alternately watching and staring sullenly into the distance.

Because that’s not at all creepy and weird.

There’s not enough whiskey on Earth to make this okay.

Then the Vampire is bamphed a sword, which she then gets busy with.

NOT ENOUGH WHISKEY.

Even she looks a little confused.

BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL!

This goes on for ages.

Then, POOF!

The blue filter has returned! The victim is left without even a beach mat, covered in ketchup!

BONER WILT ALERT!

We then, for some god-forsaken reason, have to go through flashbacks of the entire thing not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES IN A ROW.

Face-palm is the appropriate response, my friend.

Then, DUN DUN DUN.

The victim wakes up!

She’s confused!

As is everyone else.

Fin.

So. Yeah.

That’s just the first part. There’s also segways with apples and snakes.  Cyberpunk video hells. Lizard stroking. Not that kind. The actual reptile version.

Dude.

Not enough whiskey.

Copyright law in the US allows for parody–that’s how Weird Al has a career and all. It’s protected speech.

There is a Twilight porn out there, too, but it’s a “parody.” Not an especially good parody, but so long as they slap “a parody” on it, you’re stuck quibbling over the definition of funny and what counts as actual satire, which makes a lousy court case.

This Fifty Shades movie is just a straight up “adaptation.”

I don’t even know.

Neither does Anastasia

No one has been sued, yet. The movie was released a few weeks ago.

There’s just so much compounded irony going on here.

First–they’re going to make a real Fifty Shades movie, and it’s not going to be a porn.

But… by all rights?

It should be.  What the hell is the point of Fifty Shades of Grey without dozens of sex scenes?  It’s going to end up Nine 1/2 Weeks with Cheese.

If the James Faction does sue for copyright infringement, will lightning strike her?  We will all collapse into some sort of infinite hypocrisy incursion?

These are mysteries.

I do know that I now desperately wish for a real Fifty Shades porn parody. In the right hands, that could be completely awesome.

Also, I really, really don’t recommend the porn.  It’s too boring to snark on, and not good enough to be a turn on.

I am guessing there aren’t many ginger men working in porn…

If you like straight porn, and you like The Big Lebowski, then this is totally recommended.  It was funny.  Like, funny for real.  And, the sex scenes were alright, on the whole.  You sit there wondering how and why it was never done before.  I mean… honestly, Lebowski really was just begging to be parodied.  It has a porn director as a character.  And, porn actors.  And, Maude with her “good and thorough.”  You’d really have to try to mess that one up, and luckily they don’t.  Plus, James Deen as “The Jesus.”  In a purple jumpsuit.  LICKING a bowling ball.

How can that ever be wrong?

Also, somewhere out there, I have to imagine Philip Seymour Hoffman, vry srs actor extraordinaire, has to be amused by being played by Evan Stone.  Awesome.