LBP'S 20TH ANNIVERSARY FAREWELL THROW DOWN

Like Brett Favre, KISS and Cher, the Low Budget Pictures consortium has announced their retirement. The brainchild of one Chris Seaver (as if there were more than one), who, at the tender age of 12, conceived, shot and completed four movies in one afternoon. Twenty years later he and his loyal compatriots have a completed catalog equal to Bollywood’s annual releasing schedule.

Seaver and the gang leave behind a legacy that will not be matched in our lifetime. Among their titles include Anal Paprika, Filthy McNasty, Terror at Bloodfart Lake, Carnage for the Destroyer, Wet Heat, Mulva: Zombie Asskicker, Mulva 2: Kill Teenape, Quest for the Egg Salad, The Destruction Kings and Heather and Puggly Cockblock the Apocalypse.

They have brought to life such characters as the titular “Teen-Ape”, the time-traveling misogynist semi-simian and heart-throb; Mulva, the titular chocolate-addicted scourge of the underworld; the dentally-challenged uber-lesbian Puggly and her sister, the intestinally-challenged Heather; the pigmentally-challenged Mr. Bonejack; and, of course, the enigmatic Stamos Configuration.

It is not hyperbole to say that no other independent film company has crafted such an elaborate world or as definitive a style as Seaver and LBP. With a character roster larger than that of The Simpsons or South Park, portrayed by Seaver, Meredith Host, the adjective-defying Indovina Brothers (and the Indovina Sister), Casey Bowker, Jesse Ames, Josh Suire, Matt and Emily Meister, Jason McCall, Lauren P. Seavage, Shawn Green, A.J. Stabone, Noel Williams and special guest stars including the likes of Billy Garberina (Feeding the Masses), Trent Haaga (Terror Firmer), Doug Sakmann (The Re-Penetrator), Henrique Couto (Demon Divas and the Lanes of Damnation), Andy Copp (The Atrocity Circle), Troma President Lloyd Kaufman and the Undisputed Queen of Independent Cinema Debbie Rochon, the LBP gang have battled sex-crazed demons, pretentious vampires, transvestite crime lords, Satan, rednecks, nerds, geeks, fools, tools, and John Hughes stereotypes with irreverence, scatology and aplomb.

Their movies have played far and wide, on screens in theaters and on TVs in hotel rooms. Fan favorites, convention favorites, VIPs and personas-non-grata. Controversial, satirical, psychotic, tasteless, brilliant, ludicrous, energetic—often in one single shot—the independent film world will not see their likes again.

Personal anecdote: It was always my dream to appear in a Low Budget Pictures’ movie.

…No, wait, not “dream”… that other thing… “dread”.

It has always been my dread to appear in a Low Budget Pictures film. And that dread/dream was fulfilled a few years ago when I was asked to portray the character “Brick Stackmeat” (or was it “Stack Brickmeat”?) in a movie that…well, never saw the light of day. But that’s okay, because by the end of the shoot, four more movies had been conceived by the feverish mind of Chris Seaver including the very-near-mystical-experience Deathbone! 

But we have come here to bury LBP not praise them (strike that, reverse it). So it is with heavy heart and dangling fortitude that I invite everyone within the sound of my typing to the afore-titled: LBP's 20th Anniversary Farewell Throw Down/ 35mm film and Video fest!

Held this coming weekend (okay, tomorrow), February 12, 2011, in the gorgeous Palace Theater in even-more gorgeous Syracuse, NY, join the likes of which you’ve never seen the like and witness pure LBP splendor (Splenda will also be provided) during this all-day, all-night and part-of-the-next-morning extravaganza. Films include:

* LBP’s Teenape Goes To Camp

* LBP’s Geek War

* AND the premiere of the TROMA/LBP Rough Cut of Teenape Vs The Monster Nazi Apocalypse starring Debbie Rochon—never before screened and unlikely ever to be screened again!

And if that weren’t enough there’s also:

* JR Bookwalter’s 80’s Zombie Classic The Dead Next Door featuring the

voice of Bruce Campbell and produced by Sam Raimi!

* 35MM 80’s action cheese fest Never Too Young To Die starring John Stamos and Gene Simmons

* 35MM 80’s slasher gem Blood Rage

* and the very special showing of “remember when Mel wasn’t a douschebag” The Road Warrior!

The evening will be hosted by a variety of famous people but more importantly Amy Lynn Best and myself, joining the fun, doing the frug, dealing the drugs, bringing in the noize and neglecting the funk.

Tickets at the door are just $15 (just less than $2 per movie, for pete’s sake!). The fun starts at 4pm, ends a little after, picks up again immediately and lasts a lifetime.

When asked “Where were you when LBP called it a day?” don’t be that guy who has to say “Drunk, crying and alone and covered in sperm”. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be alone.

Click HERE, read more, rinse, repeat and see you tomorrow. 

Down With Fetuses!

Not sure if you’ve seen THIS, THIS or THIS yet, but in their constant campaign to protect the fetuses, the GOP wants to redefine rape. They are doing this so that taxpayer money will not go towards healthcare funding for abortions. Only in the cases of “incest involving a minor” or “forcible rape”.

Forcible rape.

Under the John Boehner’s H.R. 3: The "No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act", date rape, rape while drugged or intoxicated, or just good old-fashioned coercion, would no longer fall under the definition of “rape” with its proposed Republican-sponsored modifier.

Keep in mind—always keep in mind—that these are older, wealthy white guys bringing this to the table. Men. Men who will never have to face the choice whether or not they will have an abortion, so neither should any lowly woman.

“There are alternatives,” say the Pro-Life Coalition. “Adoption, for instance.”

“Fine,” say I, speaking for those who do not seek this procedure as birth control, but those who are in dire straits or even those just wanting to make the responsible choice of not bringing another oxygen-breather into the world. “Would you, oh high-and-mighty rich white person, be willing to fund this young woman’s pregnancy to term and help her find a suitable adoptive family? One that isn’t, of course, comprised of a homosexual couple, god forbid, and hopefully not a mixed-race couple even though that’s not so bad any more.”

“Well, no,” say they. “It’s not my responsibility.”

“Wait,” I reply, “I can’t hear you when you’re so far up on your own personal pedestal. Are you also telling me that if the mother can’t afford health care that nothing should be done? She should risk her life for that of the child’s?”

“Absolutely—wait—that is… look at this photo of this aborted child!”

“And what about after the child is born? Will you vote for state or federal healthcare for this child? To keep it alive outside the womb?”

“Well… well… once it’s born, of course…”

“It’s on its own.”

“Well, yes. Will you please think of the children? The innocent child that did nothing to deserve…” so recycleth the argument.

So, if a woman is caught alone with a male friend who forces himself upon her and she does not struggle for whatever reason (and, statistically, rape victims are emotionally traumatized before the actual penetration, reducing their ability to defend themselves), if a girl over the age of 18 finds herself in a deplorable situation with a relative, or is drugged by some ethically-devoid parasite or even in the case of just “too intoxicated to say no”, these situations, say Rich White Men, are not rape.

Are. Not. Rape.

Say Rich White Men.

As someone who had to pass a Planned Parenthood clinic every day on his way to class, I wound up as an accidental escort to many frightened, harassed young women who had to fight through protestors who sought to deny her entry to the building whether she was there for an abortion or an annual exam. I walked so many girls and women up those steps the clinical staff started to eye me as a suspected white slaver. I don’t know the circumstances that led these girls there. It was none of my business.

It’s not anyone else’s business either.

It’s especially not the business of Rich White Men who merely want to pat themselves on the back—“Another abortion prevented, Bob!”

And here’s where my own self-control vanishes in a wash of red-hot rage. I am now beyond reason.

So you know what, as a member of the Pro-Death movement, let me say this to you white, privileged motherfuckers whose daughters apparently have their vaginas locked in a safety deposit box until marriage: to those who STILL think rape equals "she had it coming", howzabout this:

The fetus had it coming!

Okay? It knew as soon as it got into that womb that it wasn't wanted there. It was asking to be aborted. It's in there naked, for Christ’s sake! Let's not forget that the little prick just lies around in there all day long, leeching off its host—er, mother. Not contributing, just sucking away her nutrients.

You feed it and give it vitamins and what does it do? Makes the mother sick morning after morning like the ungrateful little parasite that it is. Pregnancy is nothing but an organic welfare system. Fetuses are lazy and want only the redistribution of resources.

Now you Rich White Guys aren’t in favor of the ultimate socialism, are you?

Let us rise up against the pre-aborted classes, the lowest leeches of society! Why should they be given health and comfort without working for it? Who do these little aliens think they are?

And if they got there by rape, forcible or not, that isn’t legal transportation under any interpretation of the Constitution. Enough, say I. Down with fetuses. Remove the word “rape” entirely and let’s see these little fuckers for what they are:  Illegal immigrants on the molecular level, draining our valuable taxpayers of their wealth!

Let’s stop screwing around, America. We’re at war with the babies. And only the Rich White Men can protect us.