Sex and the City 1 & 2 (or Product Placement 1 & 2)

Seeing how bad movies are my thing, Sex and the City 1 & 2 are two of those that are on the top of the mountain. A mountain made entirely of Gucchi bags, Prada shoes, Calvin Klein dresses and starving African children.

Recently we had our own little marathon of Sex and the City 1 & 2. I would like to call that 'The Guantanamo Bay Experience', but even the U.S. government could not pull this shit off. For you people that are offended already, I can safely say that you are either in the women's rights movement or in the Bush administration. Anyway, onto the story.

The story start with Carrie and Mr. Big (which sounds like a name ripped right of a Quintin Tarrantino movie or a porn flick). They are going to move into a ginormous apartment in New York. The size of this thing is more than enough to house all the homeless in the Big Apple. They buy this nice piece of real estate right away, and Mr. Big surprises Carrie with her own personal wardrobe, which she fills with a plethora of shoes. By this time their apartment looks more like a small shopping mall.

How they can afford this place is beyond me. Mr. Big's job is never really explained, so it is probably something illegal. Carrie is supposed to be a writer. I say supposed to be, because she clearly isn't. We never see her write. Seriously, during these two excruciatingly long movies with a total worth of 291 (!) minutes we never see her type more than a single line.

Then they decide to get married, not because they love each other, but because of financial benefits. How romantic. So a wedding is coming. Naturally, she has to get a wedding dress and a grown and all that stuff, which is a perfect opportunity for some really blatant product placement that made me cough up blood.

Meanwhile, we have met all the other twats. We have the grumpy old wife, the stressed 30-something year old wife, and the corpse from The Shining with a libido that would embarrass Hugh Hefner. Let's call them Miranda, Charlotte and Corpse.

Miranda is a first class bitch. She is always whining and complaining to her husband Steve. Steve does the righteous thing by cheating on her. Serves her well. Somehow Steve loves this old hag, which I really don't understand. She could easily be replaced by a Jack in the box who shouts insults at you and punches you in the face whenever you get close.

So there's your plot outline. A wedding and a broken marriage. Miranda, being the humanoid typhoon that she is, decides to spread her misery onto others. She tells Mr. Big not to get married, and he's like: okay. So the wedding is off. By this time we are supposed to find Mr. Big an asshole, but in all seriousness, he is the only living being I can sympathize with. I wouldn't want to get married to that thing either.

Carrie decides to move back to her old apartment. Because she is depressed and ridiculously rich, she gets a personal assistant, called Generic Female Black Person, or GFBP. GFBP takes over all of Carries activities, except for breathing maybe.

During all this shit, the Corpse breaks up a long term relationship with a guy half her age just to have sex with her neighbour. When she has the opportunity, his visible dick scares her off, and she is single again.

Now we fast-forward a bit, and we see that Carrie goes to Mr. Bigs apartment (many months later!), because she forgot a pair of shoes. Since shoes are to those women what food is to normal people, she decides to get them. Why the fuck she didn't get them earlier beats me. Anyway, she meets her man (who is camping in her oversized shoe closet), and they bury the hatchet. They get married and the movie ends.

The end, right? Wrong. We are treated with another film, called Sex and the City 2: Blood on the Sand. Menstrual jokes aside, the plot is about them travelling to the New Arabia to piss on their culture and be worse slave drivers than Ilsa Harem Keeper of the Oil Sheiks.

But first our ladies go to a gay wedding. On this gay wedding the gayness level reaches unknown heights, which makes Liza Minnelli spawn to perform a dance routine. I am not kidding. Did I mention that it is a gay wedding? They certainly do, about 50 million times. This is the equivalent of "Is it safe?". And no, IT IS NOT SAFE!

All the women have problems this time as well. Superficial ones of course, being the pervertedly rich and successful human beings that they are. Miranda is whining about the lack of respect her boss gives her for all her hard work. Wait, what? We have never seen her come in a 30 mile radius of a pen, let alone write something useful down. Miranda quits her job instantly; she doesn't need the money anyway. The Corpse is whining about her menopause, and is using an astronomical amount of vitamin cremes to cover up that she has been dead for decades. This is about as effective as hiding a nuclear reactor by drawing a big innocent-looking smiley on it.

Meanwhile, Carrie is extremely offended by Mister Big because he buys her an enormous television set. But she wanted diamonds to decorate herself like a human Christmas tree. The spoiled twat. Because she doesn't get instant gratification of all her desires, she starts a fight and decides to spend two days a week away from Big in her own apartment. How she can afford two apartments is beyond me, seeing she writes books at glacial speed. And even if she did shit out books like Stephen King does every week, two houses in central Manhattan are way too fucking expensive!

Last on the list is Charlotte, which is a good follow-up to Elizabeth Bathory in the worst mother of the universe competition. She is barely at home, so she has a full-time nanny for all the social interactions. When Charlotte finally is home, this happens: she is baking cookies with her children in her over-priced designer dress. Then one of the kids touches the dress and messes it up in the process. For Charlotte this is the final straw, and she gets a pathetic mental breakdown. She locks herself up in the closet, and starts crying. Poor Charlotte, who could have guessed that her fancy dress could be ruined during cooking...

Then our plot device comes rushing in, being 40 minutes late. The Corpse has arranged that all the girls can go on an all-expense-paid trip to Abu Dhabi, paid by a local oil sheik. This is an ideal opportunity for the women to offend as many people as possible. Arriving at the hotel, they find out that they have their own personal slaves. Carrie immediately relates to one of the slaves as he explains that he can only see his wife once a month, because the plane ticket to India is too expensive. In her twisted reasoning, this is precisely the same as her problem with Mister Big. What a load of bollocks. How could she even say that without sounding like a complete egocentric twat! She has all the money in the world, but she chooses not to be with Big. The slave makes so little money serving her every wish, that he cannot afford to be with his woman. Even though he clearly wants to. Oh well, what's the difference?

During a jeep ride, the ladies meet a handsome adventurer in the desert. The Corpse immediately wants to ambush the poor man and have sex with him on the sand. But her vagina is probably so dry that he wouldn't notice the difference if he had sex with the sand itself! Carrie also meets an ex, but I was to distracted by the mental image of the Corpse and Indiana Jones making out, to actually care.

Back in town, the Corpse seems to have completely lost any sense of sanity as she starts throwing condoms around while making clear that she is indeed a woman (which experts doubt). The locals don't take this very well and the group of brave feminists have to flee. Fortunately, they find shelter in a house full of women dressed in burqas. But they reveal that they all have designer lingerie hidden beneath their monotonous black rags. And kids, this shows that all the women around the world are actually the same. It does not matter where they live, they are all shallow and consumerist cardboard cutouts of human beings. With this very important lesson, we conclude the second movie.

Sex and the City used to be a franchise made for women to express their feminineness. Today it is a persiflage of itself, a hideous caricature that has lost all dignity. The women in these flicks are so horribly two-dimensional that I want to smash their brains in with a brick. These two movies have to be the worst enemy of feminist groups, because there is no single anti-women-rights cartoon from the 1920s that is so insulting and degrading as these two asinine productions.

The burning question is how this could get any worse. The next movie will probably take place in Siera Leone, where it turns out that the poverty, rape, genocide and mass mutilation are all a big charade and that everyone is actually walking around in the most beautiful designer clothing.

Advice: avoid like the plague.
Rating: 3/10

Inception spoof

Noah Antwiler of the The Spoony Experiment has announced a contest for the best three clips in which people are attacked by grass. This is due to the game Ultima 3, where the grass can physically hurt you!

Anyway, here is our submission:

Click To Play

We shot this on an afternoon without any budget.

Ulli Lommel: Jack off of all trades

In the kingdom of Ass, Uwe Boll is the Jester, Bruno Mattei is the equerry and keeper of the harem, Michael Bay is the wizard who specializes in explosions, Tommy Wiseau is the fool, and Ulli Lommel is king.

You've probably never heard of this guy, but Ulli Lommel may well be one of the worst directors in the history of mankind. He is to movie making what agent orange is to trees. If you look on imdb, you'll see that most of his movies are rated between 1.4 and 2.0. These are legendary scores that Dr. Boll could only dream of.

Having seen some of his movies, like Zombie Nation and D.C. Sniper, I can safely say why these movies are rated this low. His movies are fucking BORING. It looks like the editor OD'd right after the title screen, because nothing gets cut out. You'll just see asinine dialog and 90 minutes of random footage from a single point of view. Even the president of the European Union is more interesting than this guy!

These movies have got no redeeming qualities. His story lines are completely shallow and transparent, like the girls from Sex and the City (more on that later). The absolute bottom of every flick is when Ulli himself enters the scene. Even if you don't know what he looks like, you instantly recognize that something is off about that new actor. Moments later you'll realize that it must be him, because it is obvious that the director's seat has been abandoned.

Zombie Nation
His first movie that's on the conveyor belt of this digital abattoir, is Zombie Nation. Zombie Nation is about a cop who fancies arresting women, killing them and dumping their bodies in the desert. One lady expects that she's next so she lets a couple of hilarious Voodoo Priestesses protect her from evil. Unfortunately for her, their mumbo jumbo doensn't do jack shit, so she gets murdered just like the rest of the bunch. But then (surprise!) all of the cop's victims rise from the sand and are going after him. We are talking about five people here. Five zombies. Five zombies are what Ulli calls a nation. That's the first disappointment of this movie, the fucking title. I was expecting some sort of invasion of zombies, not five mentally retarded zombies which even fat Steven Seagal could easily kill!

The second disappointment is that the box art zombie looks nothing like the zombies in the movie. The movie ones make you believe that the makeup artist has Parkinson's disease. Their eye-shadow is all over the place. It looks like somebody spray-painted Zorro's mask on their faces. Apart from the ridiculous makeup there are no visual features that makes them look dead. Most of the time they wear sunglasses that partly cover that mess on their face, so that's not helping either.

They walk slowly. Obnoxiously slowly. Compared to them a desert turtle is the Roadrunner on speed. They realize that themselves, so they stop a car. The driver thinks he just scored because he picked up two hot chicks. The only thing strange of course is the eye thingy, but I guess he just figured they were going to a Twilight convention. But little does he know, the girls are zombies who will quickly bite his tongue off (very unrealistically) and will ditch him in the desert!

They use the vehicle to travel to the Voodoo ladies, from which they hear the shocking news that they are zombies. Oh no, who would have guessed... The priestesses explain that they should form their own nation and declare independence. Okay I made that bit up, they are supposed to get their revenge.

From now on things get blurry in my head. I guess I haven't had enough caffeine pills to keep me going. Anyway, the cop has a feeling that shit will soon hit the fan. In his hideout, he is visited by a rather peculiar man in a silly hat. And then you realize it: it's him! FUCK NO! What happens next is one of the worst moments ever recorded on tape. Ulli asks the cop if it's safe. And then he asks it again. And again. And this just keeps on going and going. Torturing us with the endless repetition of the same monotonous line: "Is it safe?" And then finally the cop cracks and shouts "No it is not safe!". Unfortunately, I can't find any footage of this online, apart from this remix.

The rest of the movie is not important. We've had the worst scene, and from now on we're just there to watch the plot deflate like a balloon shaped like a turd.

D.C. Sniper
The other movie is D.C. Sniper. This one is about a guy killing people with a sniper from the back of his car. That's it. And it's not a good thing when the plot can fit on a post-it note. We see several killings, some with a rifle from space, because the blood spatter appears before the trigger is pulled! Again, the editing is an absolute nightmare, and to make matters worse Ulli makes an appearance as a detective. This time he has found another stupid hat to wear and he is wearing a suit that looks like it's a remnant from the eighties. Advice: don't watch this one. It will only make you sad.

To conclude, he is probably the worst director ever, seeing that he has a whole portfolio of abominable films on his name. His movies are much worse than Bruno Mattei's. Those movies had the promise of bestiality and fine mondo scenes that kept everyone entertained. Ulli's flicks are for the people who are convinced that editing is for pussies and that every scene must be filmed in one shot.

Before I end this review, I think I have to take something back. Ulli Lommel could never be a king of anything, not even if he'd wear a Burger King crown and invade the nearest play ground. Is it safe? NO IT IS NOT SAFE!

The Pioneers of Tomorrow

Remember those good old cartoon series you watched as a kid that filled your head with beautiful imagery of fantastic worlds and that also tried to teach you something? The artists really tried their best to learn us both new words and moral lessons.

In the past decade the idea of education through television slowly found its way to Palestine, but the messenger of these good words appears to have suffered from severe dementia and personality change caused by a brain tumour the size of a house that feeds on stupidity. The end product is the Pioneers Of Tomorrow, a show developed by the ambitious Hamas, who tries to make it big in the television industry.

Hamas, mostly known for their unmatched fervour to sabotage peace treaties, fire rockets and bravely seek cover behind civilians, created a show in which an eight year old teaches other children the beauty of martyrdom. To make it more appealing, she gets the aid of Farfour, the Hamas clone of Mickey Mouse. But where Mickey Mouse wisely kept his mouth shut about politics, Farfour never seems to get enough of shouting one-liners about the Zionist oppression with his incredibly atrocious high pitched voice.

Where Walt Disney's creations had a certain charm and innocence over them. Hamas' version bears as much resemblance to the original as a paper mache aircraft to a real jumbo jet. Seemingly the only thing in common between Disney and Hamas is the anti-Semitism.

In the first season of the Pioneers of Tomorrow - and by pioneers they mean suicide bombers - Farfour gets the key of the land of his dying 30 year old grandfather, a human. Ignoring the suggestion that martyrdom causes rapid devolution, we continue the scene where Farfour gets captured by the Israeli, who like wearing sunglasses indoor. Our brave mouse gets tortured by the Zionist Jack Bauer and dies of a fatal beating.



Thanks Allah, I thought: now that we are rid of that horrendous voice, the series must become more bearable to watch. Unfortunately that dream did not last long. Before my ears were recovered, I could hear the hellish screeching of Nahoul the bee. Assuming the subtitles are correct, I understood that Nahoul took the place of our dear friend Farfour and continue the battle to retake Tel Aviv. Due to budget reasons, Nahoul is done by the same voice actor, but the fact that he has the exact same voice can only be explained as means of torture.



Nahoul goes on a martyr holiday to the Gaza Strip. There he sees starving children and they infect him with the diseases they carry. Nahoul is also hungry, but that doesn't come as a surprise, because there is no honey in the Gaza Strip. It is explained to us that Israel is the cause of the hunger, because they closed the border to Egypt. Supposedly Palestinian children eat bullets and AK-47s, for that is the only thing crossing that border. Anyhow, after a long struggle against the cruel hands of fate, Nahoul succumbs to the fatal infection and our little pioneers lose yet another friend. But, as the under-aged tv-hostess explains, he has died a brave death as a martyr. That's right, fatal food deprivation makes you a martyr.

But let's forgive Hamas for their bad terminology, they were too busy setting various flags on fire and wasting ammunition by shooting bullets into the air. We should hold a moment of silence to remember our irreplaceable buddies Farfour and Nahoul. But wait, what malformed antropomorph is that in the background? That's right, it is Assud - the Jew-eating rabbit! Because he eats Jews, his eyesight is nearly perfect (and he is also good at banking).

Our friend will lead the fight to regain Tel'Arab, but he needs your help. If you are between 5 and 16 years old, sign up for the holy fight now! You too can become a martyr!

In conclusion, I could forgive the Pioneers Of Tomorrow for all of their filthy propaganda if the voices weren't so god-awful and if the background music wasn't such a cacophonous abomination. It sounds like a choir of sand people who have been set on fire.

This series gets the legendary score of 0.5/10. It would have gotten a zero if they played Hitler Jugend songs in the background and danced on the corpses of orphaned Jewish babies.

P.S. I can't wait to go to Hamas Disney Land!