wojr - words, occasionally sentences
Saturday, August 07, 2004
Capitalism + Cocaine = Naked Women on Film Part Quattro: 80s Nostalgia Week
Click here for the pathetic Part 3, here for the horrendous Part 2 or here for Part 1 (but I really don’t recommend it.)
My Desert Island TOP TWO Examples of Female Cinematic Eighties Nudity
For the few of you that did not suffer through Parts I, II or III, there is no possible way to recap other than:
Naked Eighties Booby Good, These Two Better
I have referred to them as the “two shining examples of this era [that] had an instrumental role in the formation of this man’s appreciation in the female form.” Seriously, I can find definite connection between the screen nudity of these two actresses and my current perception of female attractiveness. I will also admit that both insistences of nudity are actually crucial to the progression of their film’s story. (I know that makes me feel a little better about myself.)
Of the two, they both carry equal weight, so I’ll just list them alphabetically.
JOYCE HYSER in JUST ONE OF THE GUYS The plot summary goes a little like this: “Terry [Joyce Hyser] believes her teachers don't take her serious, just because she's a pretty girl. When she fails to win a journalism contest, she decides to switch schools - and gender. She plays her role well and is accepted as one of the guys. However then she meets Rick... and likes him.”
Now, before you go thinking I like transvestites, just know that is not the case. Now, if you think I like girls that have short haircuts and have a passing resemblance to the Karate Kid, well, I might have to admit that under some duress. The scene of film nudity that so jarred my adolescent mind was when Terry whips open her tuxedo to reveal that she is actually a girl. In this day and age, that would not be enough to solidify one’s natural gender, but damn if her breasts don’t make a solid case of it.
To this day, short hair, an impressive rack and some sexual androgynous wardrobe still get my fires burning.
SAMANTHA MATHIS in PUMP THE VOLUME The IMDB plot summary here is an utter sacristy. “Mark is an intelligent but shy teenager who has just moved to Arizona from the East Coast. His parents give him a short-wave radio so he can talk to his pals, but instead he sets up shop as pirate deejay Hard Harry, who becomes a hero to his peers while inspiring the wrath of the local high school principal. When one of Harry's listeners commits suicide and Harry- inspired chaos breaks out at the school, the authorities are called in to put a stop to Harry's broadcasts.” First of all, it’s Happy Harry Hard-On. Don’t shy away from the penis reference. Secondly, it falls to mention his love interest and partner in crime, Nora Diniro, played by Samantha Mathis.
Samantha plays the punk-rock artistic chick that discovers the real identity of the mysterious deejay and brings the introvert out his shell by the quickest way possible – taking off her top. This girl knew the power of her breasts and was not afraid to use them. Of course, she caused Christian Slater to be arrested for FCC violations by the dad from Teen Wolf but if you ask me (and really, who is?) that is a small price to pay.
To this day, a punk rock girl with eggplant hair and pale supple skin still gets me my fires burning.
Check back tomorrow for a brief epilogue.
wojr
Click here for the pathetic Part 3, here for the horrendous Part 2 or here for Part 1 (but I really don’t recommend it.)
My Desert Island TOP TWO Examples of Female Cinematic Eighties Nudity
For the few of you that did not suffer through Parts I, II or III, there is no possible way to recap other than:
Naked Eighties Booby Good, These Two Better
I have referred to them as the “two shining examples of this era [that] had an instrumental role in the formation of this man’s appreciation in the female form.” Seriously, I can find definite connection between the screen nudity of these two actresses and my current perception of female attractiveness. I will also admit that both insistences of nudity are actually crucial to the progression of their film’s story. (I know that makes me feel a little better about myself.)
Of the two, they both carry equal weight, so I’ll just list them alphabetically.
JOYCE HYSER in JUST ONE OF THE GUYS The plot summary goes a little like this: “Terry [Joyce Hyser] believes her teachers don't take her serious, just because she's a pretty girl. When she fails to win a journalism contest, she decides to switch schools - and gender. She plays her role well and is accepted as one of the guys. However then she meets Rick... and likes him.”
Now, before you go thinking I like transvestites, just know that is not the case. Now, if you think I like girls that have short haircuts and have a passing resemblance to the Karate Kid, well, I might have to admit that under some duress. The scene of film nudity that so jarred my adolescent mind was when Terry whips open her tuxedo to reveal that she is actually a girl. In this day and age, that would not be enough to solidify one’s natural gender, but damn if her breasts don’t make a solid case of it.
To this day, short hair, an impressive rack and some sexual androgynous wardrobe still get my fires burning.
SAMANTHA MATHIS in PUMP THE VOLUME The IMDB plot summary here is an utter sacristy. “Mark is an intelligent but shy teenager who has just moved to Arizona from the East Coast. His parents give him a short-wave radio so he can talk to his pals, but instead he sets up shop as pirate deejay Hard Harry, who becomes a hero to his peers while inspiring the wrath of the local high school principal. When one of Harry's listeners commits suicide and Harry- inspired chaos breaks out at the school, the authorities are called in to put a stop to Harry's broadcasts.” First of all, it’s Happy Harry Hard-On. Don’t shy away from the penis reference. Secondly, it falls to mention his love interest and partner in crime, Nora Diniro, played by Samantha Mathis.
Samantha plays the punk-rock artistic chick that discovers the real identity of the mysterious deejay and brings the introvert out his shell by the quickest way possible – taking off her top. This girl knew the power of her breasts and was not afraid to use them. Of course, she caused Christian Slater to be arrested for FCC violations by the dad from Teen Wolf but if you ask me (and really, who is?) that is a small price to pay.
To this day, a punk rock girl with eggplant hair and pale supple skin still gets me my fires burning.
Check back tomorrow for a brief epilogue.
wojr
Friday, August 06, 2004
Don James Just Happens to Be Charlie Sheen's Pen Name
Now, that 35 cent book would probably run you $6.99 today. So, if you increase the whore's price at the same exponential rate - it would run you $1,000 for the whole night.
I wouldn't know, but that seems like a probable going rate.
HAPPY 5PM FRIDAY EVERYBODY (even to the whores!)
wojr
Now, that 35 cent book would probably run you $6.99 today. So, if you increase the whore's price at the same exponential rate - it would run you $1,000 for the whole night.
I wouldn't know, but that seems like a probable going rate.
HAPPY 5PM FRIDAY EVERYBODY (even to the whores!)
wojr
Capitalism + Cocaine = Naked Women on Film Part 3: 80s Nostalgia Week
Click here for the horribly written Part 2 or here for the even worse Part 1
I Know My High School Education Revolved Around Breasts
For the few of you that did not suffer through Parts I & II, here is a brief recap:
The Eighties were a magical time filled with Cocaine, convenience stores and Home Box Office. Before Six Feet Under and The Sopranos, HBO and its slutty sister channel, Cinemax, held my teenage attention by offering up BN (Brief Nudity), N (Nudity) and SC (Sexual Content). In Part II, we examined the Spring Break movies offerings up those letters of the alphabet. In Part III, we’ll look at the High School Sex Comedies leading up to the “two shining examples of this era [that] had an instrumental role in the formation of this man’s appreciation in the female form.”
PORKY’S The quote from Mr. Skin (our source on nudity in the cinema) says it all – “In it’s [sic] way as influential as The Godfather or Shaft.” Seriously, that’s what the site says The Godfather or Shaft. I swear Orson Welles is going to rise up from his grave and just starting eating some webmaster brains. Seriously though, I would not even be writing this list if it wasn’t for this film’s financial success. Spawning two sequels as well as the career of Sex & the City’s Kim Cattrell, this film solidified the place of unwarranted female nudity in cinema history. (Educational value: Taught young men about Morning Wood and Penile Measurement.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars. Four stars – the prefect tittie rating.
THE LAST AMERICAN VIRGIN While Porky’s showed us how teens in the fifties got their mack on, The Last American Virgin showed us how they did in the eighties. Not only does it serve as a perfect 80s time capsule by doing so, it lets throngs of Better Off Dead fans know what Dianne Franklin (the French Foreign Exchange Student) looked like in the buff. (Education value: Taught young men about Coke Whores, ‘Crabs’ and, again, Penile Measurement.) Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
ZAPPED! Scott Baio gets mental powers that help his geek ass get laid. Willie Aimes plays his sidekick and further his own raging coke habit with his acting salary. Heather Thomas is in it, but despite my hazy recollection of her being naked, is not actually naked in this movie. It took until the 90s for her horrible acting skills to warrant on screen nudity. Lots of nameless extras flash their breasts though, but no four star rating here. (Education value: Taught young men that Scott Baio’s mental powers must be how he still gets so much action and that doing too much cocaine will turn you into Willie Aimes.) Mr. Skin gave this film two out of four stars.
RISKY BUSINESS UTTERLY NO EXPLANATION NEEDED. (Education value: Taught young men that Pimping, while economically rewarding, sure ain’t easy and that one should always hold out for the white hooker (unless chocolate is your thing).) Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
MY TUTOR I recall absolutely nothing about this film except that it was filled with nudity and that I had to watch it one time with my mother in the room. (Educational value: Taught young men that smut-filled films when viewed with your mother lose all their magic.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars.
FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH I just included this so people wouldn’t think I forgot about it. I already went over it in Part II, plus I’m saving any further Pheobe Cates comments for the next entry. (Education value: Taught young writers that Cameron Crowe should be worshipped as a deity and that you should always pay for your share of the girl’s abortion bill.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars.
PRIVATE SCHOOL Now, what kind of list of high school sex comedies would this be without some all-girl boarding school antics? I tell you, it would be an even crappier one. I forget if this film even had a plot. I’m sure it had to do with stuffy headmasters and headmistresses trying to prevent horny students, like Matthew Modine and the often naked Pheobe Cates, from consummating their teen lust. Of course, as long as it showed Betsey Russell riding topless on a horse, the plot could have involved an asteroid/meteor threatening earth with an Extinction Level Event for all I care. (Education value: Taught young men that the opposite sex was better than their right hand, left hand, horses or meteors.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars.
Check back tomorrow for the FINAL TWO MOVIES in our nudity retrospective.
wojr
Click here for the horribly written Part 2 or here for the even worse Part 1
I Know My High School Education Revolved Around Breasts
For the few of you that did not suffer through Parts I & II, here is a brief recap:
The Eighties were a magical time filled with Cocaine, convenience stores and Home Box Office. Before Six Feet Under and The Sopranos, HBO and its slutty sister channel, Cinemax, held my teenage attention by offering up BN (Brief Nudity), N (Nudity) and SC (Sexual Content). In Part II, we examined the Spring Break movies offerings up those letters of the alphabet. In Part III, we’ll look at the High School Sex Comedies leading up to the “two shining examples of this era [that] had an instrumental role in the formation of this man’s appreciation in the female form.”
PORKY’S The quote from Mr. Skin (our source on nudity in the cinema) says it all – “In it’s [sic] way as influential as The Godfather or Shaft.” Seriously, that’s what the site says The Godfather or Shaft. I swear Orson Welles is going to rise up from his grave and just starting eating some webmaster brains. Seriously though, I would not even be writing this list if it wasn’t for this film’s financial success. Spawning two sequels as well as the career of Sex & the City’s Kim Cattrell, this film solidified the place of unwarranted female nudity in cinema history. (Educational value: Taught young men about Morning Wood and Penile Measurement.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars. Four stars – the prefect tittie rating.
THE LAST AMERICAN VIRGIN While Porky’s showed us how teens in the fifties got their mack on, The Last American Virgin showed us how they did in the eighties. Not only does it serve as a perfect 80s time capsule by doing so, it lets throngs of Better Off Dead fans know what Dianne Franklin (the French Foreign Exchange Student) looked like in the buff. (Education value: Taught young men about Coke Whores, ‘Crabs’ and, again, Penile Measurement.) Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
ZAPPED! Scott Baio gets mental powers that help his geek ass get laid. Willie Aimes plays his sidekick and further his own raging coke habit with his acting salary. Heather Thomas is in it, but despite my hazy recollection of her being naked, is not actually naked in this movie. It took until the 90s for her horrible acting skills to warrant on screen nudity. Lots of nameless extras flash their breasts though, but no four star rating here. (Education value: Taught young men that Scott Baio’s mental powers must be how he still gets so much action and that doing too much cocaine will turn you into Willie Aimes.) Mr. Skin gave this film two out of four stars.
RISKY BUSINESS UTTERLY NO EXPLANATION NEEDED. (Education value: Taught young men that Pimping, while economically rewarding, sure ain’t easy and that one should always hold out for the white hooker (unless chocolate is your thing).) Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
MY TUTOR I recall absolutely nothing about this film except that it was filled with nudity and that I had to watch it one time with my mother in the room. (Educational value: Taught young men that smut-filled films when viewed with your mother lose all their magic.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars.
FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH I just included this so people wouldn’t think I forgot about it. I already went over it in Part II, plus I’m saving any further Pheobe Cates comments for the next entry. (Education value: Taught young writers that Cameron Crowe should be worshipped as a deity and that you should always pay for your share of the girl’s abortion bill.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars.
PRIVATE SCHOOL Now, what kind of list of high school sex comedies would this be without some all-girl boarding school antics? I tell you, it would be an even crappier one. I forget if this film even had a plot. I’m sure it had to do with stuffy headmasters and headmistresses trying to prevent horny students, like Matthew Modine and the often naked Pheobe Cates, from consummating their teen lust. Of course, as long as it showed Betsey Russell riding topless on a horse, the plot could have involved an asteroid/meteor threatening earth with an Extinction Level Event for all I care. (Education value: Taught young men that the opposite sex was better than their right hand, left hand, horses or meteors.) Mr. Skin gave this film FOUR out of four stars.
Check back tomorrow for the FINAL TWO MOVIES in our nudity retrospective.
wojr
If God Has A Sense of Humor, I'll Be Having Some Nasty Sluts for Daughters
This week's "Things.." strip is up and ready to disgust everyone here.
And for your information, God does have a sense of humor and she is a fan of the site.
wojr
This week's "Things.." strip is up and ready to disgust everyone here.
And for your information, God does have a sense of humor and she is a fan of the site.
wojr
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Capitalism + Cocaine = Naked Women on Film Part 2: 80s Nostalgia Week
Click here for the poorly written Part 1
Chewing Towards The Supple Nougat Center of Softcore
Yesterday, we discussed the laborious ways in which the typical 80s adolescent male obtained the sight of naked female flesh. Today, we’ll go over the memorable sights that were obtained.
Now, VH1 had their little “I Love the 80s” and “I Love the 80s Strikes Back” retrospectives. My enjoyment in witnessing third and fourth tier celebrities commenting on the Rubik’s cube and the Tao of Chewbacca has been well documented. However, when the most lauded flash of struggling actress titty is from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, I must take offense.
Before I get some well-deserved hate mail, I freely admit the sight of Phoebe Cates emerging from that magical pool in that magical red front clasping bikini is cinema magic. Who can blame Judge Reinhold for beating it in his pirate costume? (Actually who can blame anyone for beating it while wearing a pirate costume? It’s a blessed pirate costume! I get half a chub just about thinking of a pirate costume, but that might only be me.) I was more offended at how VH1 ignored the numerous other well-built starlets that shed their wardrobe to further the plot and commercial value of their respective projects.
As mentioned previously, the Internet was only science fiction in the Eighties. Also, the video market was still getting its sea legs. There was no commercial viability in the “direct to video” market. Thus, movies that played to the more base human entertainment needs, the same needs prone to adolescent males, were actually made with somewhat respectable production values and actually released in theatres. These motion pictures were damn-right Oscar worthy compared to the films that today would premiere on Skinemax or at Blockbuster starring Julie Strain and Shannon Tweed. Plus, they paved the way for such cinematic epics as Basic Instinct and Wild Things.
Additionally, the two shining examples of this era had an instrumental role in the formation of this man’s appreciation in the female form (almost as much as Twin Peaks, but that’s a story in itself).
However, before reaching the two pinnacles of female film nudity, let’s examine some of the also-rans. If you notice, I also include the films scores from the film site, Mr. Skin. This is a website that focuses entirely on the documenting of female nudity in film history. So, while I am only perverted enough to focus my direction on this topic for a week. These guys have made it a life’s mission. And for that wojr.com salutes the fine folks at Mr. Skin. (Not enough to actually pay for a membership, but we’re still saluting.)
SPRING BREAK Thanks to the success of Porky’s and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, no film genre saw more female nudity than the Teen Sex Comedy. Subsequently, no sub-genre of the Teen Sex Comedy saw more unnecessary nudity than the Spring Break movie. Well, run the gauntlet of them, but this, like Die Hard, was the original. There is more beer spilt on female flesh in this movie, than blood spilt in all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
WHERE THE BOYS ARE ’84 A word of warning: I’m not sure if this Spring Break remake even contained nudity. However, it had Lisa Hartman running around in a swimsuit throughout. To my teenage hormones at the time, that was enough. (Plus, Bronc would scold me if I exclude this one.) Mr. Skin gave this film one out of four stars.
HOT DOG! THE MOVIE Basically, Spring Break on the ski slopes. While you would think that the cold environs might deter the nudity, that is clearly not the case. Insert some hot tubs to Hot Dog – and the clothes just melt away. When the clothes are melting away from Playmate Shannon Tweed, well, it’s no wonder they named this film after a weiner. (I have no idea what that statement really means, but I’m going with it.) However, this film has one thing all the others lack – quotable dialogue. If I had a penny for every time I asked “What the fuck is a Chinese downhill?” – well, I could buy myself four or five pieces of Bazooka chewing cum. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
FRATERNITY VACATION Not only did this film let the world believe that Palm Springs, CA was a possible Spring Break destination, it introduced me to acting prowess of Tim Robbins. While not as universally accepted as The Shawshank Redemption, Fraternity Vacation is definitely more pleasing for the eyes. That is assuming you would prefer the sight of naked, cocaine-addled, wannabe actresses pretending to be naked, cocaine addled college co-eds over the sight of Tim Robbins getting gang raped. If you prefer prison gang rapes, well, Fraternity Vacation just won’t be your cup of tea. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
REVENGE OF THE NERDS Now we all had to wait for the sequel to get the nerds to go on spring break, the original film was the one with the nudity. I include it here, mostly out of respect for James Cromwell’s character, Mr. Skolnick. He really should be named Mr. Wojciak, because the charcter is totally based on my own father. If you are not familiar with Papa Wojr, then I offer up this film not only for its wonderful "Pie" imagery but also for the Oscar-worthy performances from Anthony Edwards, John Goodman, and the slayer of all sitcoms, Ted McGinley. OMEGA MU!! Mr. Skin gave this film two out of four stars.
And the last one for today,
HARDBODIES Basically, it’s the dirty old men’s turn to go on Spring Break and the film audience reaps the benefits. I’ll let the descriptive quotes from Mr. Skin speak for this film. “Amidst a gaggle of unclothed gazonga's, Julie's front and center, dropping her blue dress to pop out her natural nay-nays.” “Teal doff her top and shows her dairy-balloons in a disco-themed bedroom with a horny dude.” “In a room packed with raw racks, blonde, naturally-stacked Leslee stands on the right and takes off her dress to cavort around topless in black panties. Awesome!” Awesome indeed, my brother. I hope you move out of your Parents’ basement some day real soon. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
Check back tomorrow for Part III.
wojr
Click here for the poorly written Part 1
Chewing Towards The Supple Nougat Center of Softcore
Yesterday, we discussed the laborious ways in which the typical 80s adolescent male obtained the sight of naked female flesh. Today, we’ll go over the memorable sights that were obtained.
Now, VH1 had their little “I Love the 80s” and “I Love the 80s Strikes Back” retrospectives. My enjoyment in witnessing third and fourth tier celebrities commenting on the Rubik’s cube and the Tao of Chewbacca has been well documented. However, when the most lauded flash of struggling actress titty is from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, I must take offense.
Before I get some well-deserved hate mail, I freely admit the sight of Phoebe Cates emerging from that magical pool in that magical red front clasping bikini is cinema magic. Who can blame Judge Reinhold for beating it in his pirate costume? (Actually who can blame anyone for beating it while wearing a pirate costume? It’s a blessed pirate costume! I get half a chub just about thinking of a pirate costume, but that might only be me.) I was more offended at how VH1 ignored the numerous other well-built starlets that shed their wardrobe to further the plot and commercial value of their respective projects.
As mentioned previously, the Internet was only science fiction in the Eighties. Also, the video market was still getting its sea legs. There was no commercial viability in the “direct to video” market. Thus, movies that played to the more base human entertainment needs, the same needs prone to adolescent males, were actually made with somewhat respectable production values and actually released in theatres. These motion pictures were damn-right Oscar worthy compared to the films that today would premiere on Skinemax or at Blockbuster starring Julie Strain and Shannon Tweed. Plus, they paved the way for such cinematic epics as Basic Instinct and Wild Things.
Additionally, the two shining examples of this era had an instrumental role in the formation of this man’s appreciation in the female form (almost as much as Twin Peaks, but that’s a story in itself).
However, before reaching the two pinnacles of female film nudity, let’s examine some of the also-rans. If you notice, I also include the films scores from the film site, Mr. Skin. This is a website that focuses entirely on the documenting of female nudity in film history. So, while I am only perverted enough to focus my direction on this topic for a week. These guys have made it a life’s mission. And for that wojr.com salutes the fine folks at Mr. Skin. (Not enough to actually pay for a membership, but we’re still saluting.)
SPRING BREAK Thanks to the success of Porky’s and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, no film genre saw more female nudity than the Teen Sex Comedy. Subsequently, no sub-genre of the Teen Sex Comedy saw more unnecessary nudity than the Spring Break movie. Well, run the gauntlet of them, but this, like Die Hard, was the original. There is more beer spilt on female flesh in this movie, than blood spilt in all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
WHERE THE BOYS ARE ’84 A word of warning: I’m not sure if this Spring Break remake even contained nudity. However, it had Lisa Hartman running around in a swimsuit throughout. To my teenage hormones at the time, that was enough. (Plus, Bronc would scold me if I exclude this one.) Mr. Skin gave this film one out of four stars.
HOT DOG! THE MOVIE Basically, Spring Break on the ski slopes. While you would think that the cold environs might deter the nudity, that is clearly not the case. Insert some hot tubs to Hot Dog – and the clothes just melt away. When the clothes are melting away from Playmate Shannon Tweed, well, it’s no wonder they named this film after a weiner. (I have no idea what that statement really means, but I’m going with it.) However, this film has one thing all the others lack – quotable dialogue. If I had a penny for every time I asked “What the fuck is a Chinese downhill?” – well, I could buy myself four or five pieces of Bazooka chewing cum. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
FRATERNITY VACATION Not only did this film let the world believe that Palm Springs, CA was a possible Spring Break destination, it introduced me to acting prowess of Tim Robbins. While not as universally accepted as The Shawshank Redemption, Fraternity Vacation is definitely more pleasing for the eyes. That is assuming you would prefer the sight of naked, cocaine-addled, wannabe actresses pretending to be naked, cocaine addled college co-eds over the sight of Tim Robbins getting gang raped. If you prefer prison gang rapes, well, Fraternity Vacation just won’t be your cup of tea. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
REVENGE OF THE NERDS Now we all had to wait for the sequel to get the nerds to go on spring break, the original film was the one with the nudity. I include it here, mostly out of respect for James Cromwell’s character, Mr. Skolnick. He really should be named Mr. Wojciak, because the charcter is totally based on my own father. If you are not familiar with Papa Wojr, then I offer up this film not only for its wonderful "Pie" imagery but also for the Oscar-worthy performances from Anthony Edwards, John Goodman, and the slayer of all sitcoms, Ted McGinley. OMEGA MU!! Mr. Skin gave this film two out of four stars.
And the last one for today,
HARDBODIES Basically, it’s the dirty old men’s turn to go on Spring Break and the film audience reaps the benefits. I’ll let the descriptive quotes from Mr. Skin speak for this film. “Amidst a gaggle of unclothed gazonga's, Julie's front and center, dropping her blue dress to pop out her natural nay-nays.” “Teal doff her top and shows her dairy-balloons in a disco-themed bedroom with a horny dude.” “In a room packed with raw racks, blonde, naturally-stacked Leslee stands on the right and takes off her dress to cavort around topless in black panties. Awesome!” Awesome indeed, my brother. I hope you move out of your Parents’ basement some day real soon. Mr. Skin gave this film three out of four stars.
Check back tomorrow for Part III.
wojr
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Capitalism + Cocaine = Naked Women on Film Part 1: 80s Nostalgia Week
On January 1, 1980, I was merely six years old. Come the bitterly cold evening of December 31, 1989, I was a sixteen-year-old virgin. Needless to say, at some point between those dates, I discovered the opposite sex. And their breasts.
Now, for the young folks playing at home, the eighties was a decade that existed before Al Gore invented the Internet. The steady flow of pornographic images of every sexual interest was not as readily available as it is today. No one knew about foot fetishes, scat was some type of "urban" music and Whitney Houston wasn't smoking the rock. Overall, it was a simpler time. Hell, there wasn't even a distinction between transvestites and transsexuals back then. Can you imagine that? No chicks with dicks?
But then the cocaine came, sullied everything and America still can't scrub itself clean.
Let's look back at this wonderful time, shall we?
Relax, 7-11 is Still in Business and Larry Flynt Still has his Gold-Plated Wheelchair
As I mentioned above, there wasn't an Internet back in the 80s. For a minor with no hope for getting some, there were only two avenues leading to the land of milk and honey: printed smut and cable.
Thanks to smut pioneers like Larry Flynt, there was an abundance of nudie publications during this period. However, for a minor, procuring such magazines as Cheri and High Society posed a challenge. Bookstores with a magazine section were still relegated to your local mall, stuck between the Orange Julius stand and the Lodge clothing store. Large chains such as Borders and Barnes & Noble had yet made it on the scene. These small stores, with their ever-vigilant sales staff, made sneaking peeks at the scantily clad centerfolds near impossible.
Most respectable convenience stores had secured the Adult Periodicals behind the counter. SO, the best method to get your hands on such precious publications was either an older relative with limited morality and/or cash flow or outright thievery from the shadiest of convenience stores. Since my friends and I were all "only children", we stole. (Although my grandfather (Polish side) did make sure that I 'stumbled' upon my father's Playboys. No "Friends of Dorothy" to be had in the Wojciak family.)
In the illegal obtainment of shady convenience store smut, I personally recommend slipping the desired magazine into a newspaper and then paying for said newspaper at the counter with exact change. Making your exit as quickly and calmly as possible. Just be sure to leave the vicinity of the store before examining one's procurements. (Of course, wojr.com would never endorse criminal behavior. These pointers are solely for entertainment purposes.)
If this all seems rather difficult to you, then you are correct in your opinion. This method involved a great amount of risk and left you the one thing you did not want your parents to find: evidence that you were a goddamn pervert.
Thankfully, there was the cable box.
BN, N, SC: All the Letters You Need to Know
Cable came into its own in the 80s. Again for the youngsters playing at home, there was a time when TV came into your living room via an antenna. If you were lived at the right elevations, you managed to get all 13 local channels. None of them showed the boobies.
Personally, I was lucky enough to have a spendthrift for a mother. We were one of the first people I know to get cable. Cable showed boobies. Cable even sent you a book telling you when boobies were coming over to your house. When the cable guide came in, we would attack it like Ike getting the maps for D-Day. HBO and Cinemax were our pre-adolescent saviors. No matter how many times these channels played 'Black Beauty' and 'Any Which Way But Lose' - they would eventually go back to breasts. The book even let you know about the extent of flesh you would be getting to see by their ratings key.
The important ratings were broken down into three categories:
BN (Brief Nudity) - If you weren't doing anything, worth checking out. Not worth losing sleep over, because movie may only show ass. Actually, it may only show male ass.
N (Nudity) - Guaranteed breasts. Definitely should see, but don't risk detection by parents. Movie will be played on multiple occasions through out month. You will get your chance.
SC (Sexual Content, sometimes listed as Strong Sexual Content) - The freaking mother lode. You miss sleep for this bad boy. You make sure to see multiple viewings. Tivo has not been invented yet, so there is no freeze-frame or rewind. You need to remain ever vigilant if you do want to miss a thing. (While this might sound difficult, one must remember that this was before MTV had destroyed America's attention span. Watching a two-hour movie for seconds of naked flesh was not the arduous task it is today.)
Now, one might blame HBO and Cinemax for corrupting the young minds of America, but don't. They tried everything they did to keep these films away from minors. Warnings were showed before the film to discourage parents from letting their children watch such filth. Plus, the truly heinous films were only played after 8PM.
Check in tomorrow for Part II.
wojr
On January 1, 1980, I was merely six years old. Come the bitterly cold evening of December 31, 1989, I was a sixteen-year-old virgin. Needless to say, at some point between those dates, I discovered the opposite sex. And their breasts.
Now, for the young folks playing at home, the eighties was a decade that existed before Al Gore invented the Internet. The steady flow of pornographic images of every sexual interest was not as readily available as it is today. No one knew about foot fetishes, scat was some type of "urban" music and Whitney Houston wasn't smoking the rock. Overall, it was a simpler time. Hell, there wasn't even a distinction between transvestites and transsexuals back then. Can you imagine that? No chicks with dicks?
But then the cocaine came, sullied everything and America still can't scrub itself clean.
Let's look back at this wonderful time, shall we?
Relax, 7-11 is Still in Business and Larry Flynt Still has his Gold-Plated Wheelchair
As I mentioned above, there wasn't an Internet back in the 80s. For a minor with no hope for getting some, there were only two avenues leading to the land of milk and honey: printed smut and cable.
Thanks to smut pioneers like Larry Flynt, there was an abundance of nudie publications during this period. However, for a minor, procuring such magazines as Cheri and High Society posed a challenge. Bookstores with a magazine section were still relegated to your local mall, stuck between the Orange Julius stand and the Lodge clothing store. Large chains such as Borders and Barnes & Noble had yet made it on the scene. These small stores, with their ever-vigilant sales staff, made sneaking peeks at the scantily clad centerfolds near impossible.
Most respectable convenience stores had secured the Adult Periodicals behind the counter. SO, the best method to get your hands on such precious publications was either an older relative with limited morality and/or cash flow or outright thievery from the shadiest of convenience stores. Since my friends and I were all "only children", we stole. (Although my grandfather (Polish side) did make sure that I 'stumbled' upon my father's Playboys. No "Friends of Dorothy" to be had in the Wojciak family.)
In the illegal obtainment of shady convenience store smut, I personally recommend slipping the desired magazine into a newspaper and then paying for said newspaper at the counter with exact change. Making your exit as quickly and calmly as possible. Just be sure to leave the vicinity of the store before examining one's procurements. (Of course, wojr.com would never endorse criminal behavior. These pointers are solely for entertainment purposes.)
If this all seems rather difficult to you, then you are correct in your opinion. This method involved a great amount of risk and left you the one thing you did not want your parents to find: evidence that you were a goddamn pervert.
Thankfully, there was the cable box.
BN, N, SC: All the Letters You Need to Know
Cable came into its own in the 80s. Again for the youngsters playing at home, there was a time when TV came into your living room via an antenna. If you were lived at the right elevations, you managed to get all 13 local channels. None of them showed the boobies.
Personally, I was lucky enough to have a spendthrift for a mother. We were one of the first people I know to get cable. Cable showed boobies. Cable even sent you a book telling you when boobies were coming over to your house. When the cable guide came in, we would attack it like Ike getting the maps for D-Day. HBO and Cinemax were our pre-adolescent saviors. No matter how many times these channels played 'Black Beauty' and 'Any Which Way But Lose' - they would eventually go back to breasts. The book even let you know about the extent of flesh you would be getting to see by their ratings key.
The important ratings were broken down into three categories:
BN (Brief Nudity) - If you weren't doing anything, worth checking out. Not worth losing sleep over, because movie may only show ass. Actually, it may only show male ass.
N (Nudity) - Guaranteed breasts. Definitely should see, but don't risk detection by parents. Movie will be played on multiple occasions through out month. You will get your chance.
SC (Sexual Content, sometimes listed as Strong Sexual Content) - The freaking mother lode. You miss sleep for this bad boy. You make sure to see multiple viewings. Tivo has not been invented yet, so there is no freeze-frame or rewind. You need to remain ever vigilant if you do want to miss a thing. (While this might sound difficult, one must remember that this was before MTV had destroyed America's attention span. Watching a two-hour movie for seconds of naked flesh was not the arduous task it is today.)
Now, one might blame HBO and Cinemax for corrupting the young minds of America, but don't. They tried everything they did to keep these films away from minors. Warnings were showed before the film to discourage parents from letting their children watch such filth. Plus, the truly heinous films were only played after 8PM.
Check in tomorrow for Part II.
wojr
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
He's Rich, Bee-yatch!
Chappelle renews for $50 Million - Paul Mooney predicted it. White people have gone and taken Dave Chappelle.
wojr
Chappelle renews for $50 Million - Paul Mooney predicted it. White people have gone and taken Dave Chappelle.
wojr
Monday, August 02, 2004
Cause Nothing Can Stop the Quiet Riot: 80s Nostalgia Week
For no reason in particular, I've been letting my hair grow this past year. It's not a sign of rebellion. It's not me being too cheap/poor to pay for a haircut. Hell, it's not even the mocking of my "folliclely challenged" peers. (Although some of you guys went bald awfully fast.) I just did not get a haircut for a few months. After that, it became a "well, let's see where this goes"-type of situation.
But when people ask me why - I have no real response. And there's only so many times you can say "No reason" before you go slightly batty and begin pulling your hair out.
So, I do what I normally do - make funny shit up.
Like today:
Random Mongoloid Female: So, your hair is getting long there.
Witty Handsome Male That Goes By The Nickname Wojr: Yeah, need it for my other job.
RMF: Other job?
WHMTGBTNW: Def Leppard Cover Band.
RMF: What?
WHMTGBTNW: Just kidding. It's a Quiet Riot Cover Band.
And with that, I just walk away.
But my little joke cost me. Cost me dearly.
I've had Quiet Riot songs in my head all day long. Not just 'Cum On Feel The Noize.' We're talking the whole Quiet Riot oeuvre: 'Bang Your Head', 'The Wild and the Young' and, most notably, 'Mama Weer All Crazee Now.'
I don't think that I'll be able to spell correctly ever again. However, it helps me to introduce the first official 'Theme Week' at wojr.com.
That's right it's 80s Nostalgia Week at wojr.com.
You have been forewarned.
Ma ma ma ma mama weer all crazee now.
wojr
*I think you can book Quiet Riot for your special event by clicking here.
wojr
For no reason in particular, I've been letting my hair grow this past year. It's not a sign of rebellion. It's not me being too cheap/poor to pay for a haircut. Hell, it's not even the mocking of my "folliclely challenged" peers. (Although some of you guys went bald awfully fast.) I just did not get a haircut for a few months. After that, it became a "well, let's see where this goes"-type of situation.
But when people ask me why - I have no real response. And there's only so many times you can say "No reason" before you go slightly batty and begin pulling your hair out.
So, I do what I normally do - make funny shit up.
Like today:
Random Mongoloid Female: So, your hair is getting long there.
Witty Handsome Male That Goes By The Nickname Wojr: Yeah, need it for my other job.
RMF: Other job?
WHMTGBTNW: Def Leppard Cover Band.
RMF: What?
WHMTGBTNW: Just kidding.
And with that, I just walk away.
But my little joke cost me. Cost me dearly.
I've had Quiet Riot songs in my head all day long. Not just 'Cum On Feel The Noize.' We're talking the whole Quiet Riot oeuvre: 'Bang Your Head', 'The Wild and the Young' and, most notably, 'Mama Weer All Crazee Now.'
I don't think that I'll be able to spell correctly ever again. However, it helps me to introduce the first official 'Theme Week' at wojr.com.
That's right it's 80s Nostalgia Week at wojr.com.
You have been forewarned.
Ma ma ma ma mama weer all crazee now.
wojr
*I think you can book Quiet Riot for your special event by clicking here.
wojr
Sunday, August 01, 2004
The Sprawling EPIC of Wojr and the Crap Dragon
Back in distant 2003, Marvel Comics tried an interesting publishing concept that really was doomed to fail. They reinstated an old Marvel imprint called EPIC comics and, in an effort to recruit new (and cheaper) talent, they opened the doors for submissions to EPIC – accepting unsolicited submissions from colorists, letterers, inkers, pencilers and, most importantly, WRITERS. Many comic book companies don't take submissions from writers. Not only does it open a huge can of worms in terms of legal exposure, but it is a huge burden on their editorial staff to review writing submissions.
Reviewing artwork only takes mere minutes, if not seconds, to determine the level of the creator's ability. While script evaluation takes considerably more time and effort. Plot, characterization and dialogue are not as apparent to an editor as solid line work, accurate anatomy or effective shading.
While most people think they can write, nearly all comic book readers think that they can write comics. Just look at any comic book message board and you will see the Marvel/DC fan base raging against the current writer of whatever superhero title that speaks to them on a personal level. Those fans will be professing how these classic characters would be so much better off under the guidance of a caring fan like themselves. (I'll admit to thinking those thoughts on occasion. I just won’t admit to posting them onto the Internet.)
Thus, given all that, the Marvel offices were inundated with scripts. Many of which were penned by hopefuls that had never tried to write a comic book.
After a few short months, Marvel stopped accepting submissions and, after a change in Marvel presidents, they cancelled the EPIC line. All comics published under the banner were from relatively established writers that had submitted their proposals before the submissions were made open to the public, leaving a bad taste in the mouth of all those hopeful comic creators.
Now, was I one of those hopeful comic book writers left with a bad taste in my mouth?
When Marvel began accepting submissions to the re-vamped EPIC line, I was extremely reluctant to submit anything. I didn’t want to be part of that initial deluge of what I imagined to be utter crap.
That reluctance, however, did not stop my imagination from coming up with story ideas. The little concept generator that lives in my head started spouting things ranging from super-powered bounty hunters to super-villain advocacy groups to the "National Enquirer" of the Marvel Universe. (That last one has since become an actual comic book. I don’t think they stole the idea from me, but I changed the looks on my door anyway. Kidding.)
The one idea I kept coming back to, though, was an update of the "Daughters of the Dragon", two obscure characters form the 70s that were, like many new characters of that time, an amalgamation of the era’s popular culture. Throw equal parts of the 'Six Million Dollar Man', 'Cleopatra Jones', 'Charlie's Angels' and every Martial Arts film ever, into a blender and the resulting comic book smoothie would be "Daughters of the Dragon."
Needless to say, such a hodge-podge of clichés just spoke to some hidden portion of my soul and a sprawling epic of a story formed in my head. When I told a fellow writer about my apprehension in relation to submitting to Epic, when I mentioned how I did not want to associate myself with that "deluge of crap", he replied, "Do you write crap?" Despite what some of you may think, I personally do not believe that I write "crap" and I told him so. "Then, what are you worried about? Who cares what anyone else submits?"
Thus, "Daughter of the Dragon" was born. I mailed it in to Marvel offices on a Friday. The next week, they closed submissions. Probably, due to a "deluge of crap."
Did the people at Marvel ever read it? I have no idea. Was it rejected? Well, do you see me telling you all to go out and buy my "Daughter of the Dragon" comic book?
Can you read the script and see if it’s "crap"?
Now you can.
DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON – Issue One
wojr
Back in distant 2003, Marvel Comics tried an interesting publishing concept that really was doomed to fail. They reinstated an old Marvel imprint called EPIC comics and, in an effort to recruit new (and cheaper) talent, they opened the doors for submissions to EPIC – accepting unsolicited submissions from colorists, letterers, inkers, pencilers and, most importantly, WRITERS. Many comic book companies don't take submissions from writers. Not only does it open a huge can of worms in terms of legal exposure, but it is a huge burden on their editorial staff to review writing submissions.
Reviewing artwork only takes mere minutes, if not seconds, to determine the level of the creator's ability. While script evaluation takes considerably more time and effort. Plot, characterization and dialogue are not as apparent to an editor as solid line work, accurate anatomy or effective shading.
While most people think they can write, nearly all comic book readers think that they can write comics. Just look at any comic book message board and you will see the Marvel/DC fan base raging against the current writer of whatever superhero title that speaks to them on a personal level. Those fans will be professing how these classic characters would be so much better off under the guidance of a caring fan like themselves. (I'll admit to thinking those thoughts on occasion. I just won’t admit to posting them onto the Internet.)
Thus, given all that, the Marvel offices were inundated with scripts. Many of which were penned by hopefuls that had never tried to write a comic book.
After a few short months, Marvel stopped accepting submissions and, after a change in Marvel presidents, they cancelled the EPIC line. All comics published under the banner were from relatively established writers that had submitted their proposals before the submissions were made open to the public, leaving a bad taste in the mouth of all those hopeful comic creators.
Now, was I one of those hopeful comic book writers left with a bad taste in my mouth?
When Marvel began accepting submissions to the re-vamped EPIC line, I was extremely reluctant to submit anything. I didn’t want to be part of that initial deluge of what I imagined to be utter crap.
That reluctance, however, did not stop my imagination from coming up with story ideas. The little concept generator that lives in my head started spouting things ranging from super-powered bounty hunters to super-villain advocacy groups to the "National Enquirer" of the Marvel Universe. (That last one has since become an actual comic book. I don’t think they stole the idea from me, but I changed the looks on my door anyway. Kidding.)
The one idea I kept coming back to, though, was an update of the "Daughters of the Dragon", two obscure characters form the 70s that were, like many new characters of that time, an amalgamation of the era’s popular culture. Throw equal parts of the 'Six Million Dollar Man', 'Cleopatra Jones', 'Charlie's Angels' and every Martial Arts film ever, into a blender and the resulting comic book smoothie would be "Daughters of the Dragon."
Needless to say, such a hodge-podge of clichés just spoke to some hidden portion of my soul and a sprawling epic of a story formed in my head. When I told a fellow writer about my apprehension in relation to submitting to Epic, when I mentioned how I did not want to associate myself with that "deluge of crap", he replied, "Do you write crap?" Despite what some of you may think, I personally do not believe that I write "crap" and I told him so. "Then, what are you worried about? Who cares what anyone else submits?"
Thus, "Daughter of the Dragon" was born. I mailed it in to Marvel offices on a Friday. The next week, they closed submissions. Probably, due to a "deluge of crap."
Did the people at Marvel ever read it? I have no idea. Was it rejected? Well, do you see me telling you all to go out and buy my "Daughter of the Dragon" comic book?
Can you read the script and see if it’s "crap"?
Now you can.
DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON – Issue One
wojr
