Only now does it occur to me... BLUE THUNDER (1983)

 Only now does it occur to me...  that I waited way too long to watch BLUE THUNDER.

Directed by John Badham (SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, WARGAMES), and written by Dan O'Bannon (ALIEN, THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, John Carpenter's DARK STAR) and Don Jakoby (DEATH WISH 3, ARACHNOPHOBIA, John Carpenter's VAMPIRES), it's a thriller about the militarization of our police forces and the obliteration of personal privacy. It's about brave whistleblowers and bitchin', fully rad helicopters; possibly the median point between SNOWDEN and AIRWOLF.


The inimitable Roy Scheider stars as an LAPD helicopter pilot (battling PTSD from Vietnam) who's paired with a nerdy rookie (Daniel Stern),

and bossed around by a crusty but lovable Warren Oates

who is given an ample platform to growl "goddammit" and "you bright-eyed sons of bitches" with impunity, and chide the newbie Stern with monologues like: "You're supposed to be stupid, son, don't abuse the privilege.... for Chrissakes, I had 20 years in this outfit when your idea of a big time was sittin in front of the TV tube, watchin' Bugs Bunny and gnawin' on your Fudgesicle!"

Candy Clark appears in a brilliant supporting role as Roy Scheider's ex-wife; at the beginning, at least, it feels like outtakes from the most depressing domestic scenes in ALL THAT JAZZ.

"Goddamn your Black Irish heart, Frank Murphy!"

Malcolm McDowell plays the villain of the piece, obviously, named Colonel Cochran (and I'm going to continue with my conspiracy theories about HALLOWEEN III: SEASON OF THE WITCH being an inspiration to filmmakers everywhere), a nefarious Brit who was essentially a prep-school bully to Roy Scheider back in 'Nam (there are flashbacks).

He wears turtlenecks and uses "Catch you later!" as his evil catchphrase, which is fine, I guess.  It's okay, I think he's having fun.

"Catch you later!"

In all, it's a genuinely exciting conspiracy thriller with high stakes, despite sorta feeling like a big-budget episode of (the aforementioned) AIRWOLF, or even MACGUYVER. Prefiguring TOP GUN by three years, when its politics begin to show, it presents itself as anto-jingoist, opposing in every way the values of post-TOP GUN, Michael Bay school of filmmaking. In BLUE THUNDER, military technology is to be feared, not fetishized; and it depicts the new generation of Reagan-era jet fighter jockeys and their masters as schlubs propped-up by propaganda, accidentally firing heat-seeking missiles into a BBQ joint (because of misinterpreted thermal imaging) and into an office building (whose windows are reflecting the rays of the sun).


Also: Roy Schneider flies a helicopter upside down while screaming "Come on, you tub of shit!" which is without a doubt the "Smile, you sonofabitch!" moment of this movie.


If that's not enough of an endorsement, I don't know what is.





P.S.––Coming soon: horror films for Halloween.

Film Review: CAT'S EYE (1985, Lewis Teague)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 94 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  James Woods (VIDEODROME, VAMPIRES), Candy Clark (AMERICAN GRAFFITI, THE BLOB), Drew Barrymore (E.T., GUNCRAZY), Kenneth McMillan (DUNE, RUNAWAY TRAIN), Alan King (CASINO, THE ALAN KING SHOW), Robert Hays (AIRPLANE!, FIFTY/FIFTY), James Rebhorn (THE GAME, INDEPENDENCE DAY), Charles S. Dutton (SURVIVING THE GAME, ALIEN 3), James Naughton (THE PAPER CHASE, THE FIRST WIVES CLUB).  Produced by Dino De Laurentiis.  Music by Alan Silvestri (BACK TO THE FUTURE, PREDATOR).  Cinematography by Jack Cardiff (THE AFRICAN QUEEN, THE RED SHOES).

Tag-line: "Through the eye of the cat, a twisted tail of macabre suspense from the author of CARRIE, THE SHINING, and THE DEAD ZONE."  That's a mouthful.

Best one-liner:  "YOU FLYING SHIT HOUSE!"

CAT'S EYE is an omnibus horror flick, which longtime fans of this site will note is one of the best horror subgenres to watch with friends on a Saturday night.  This genre brought us CREEPSHOW, CREEPSHOW 2, TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE, TRILOGY OF TERROR, TWO EVIL EYES, THE TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE, and plenty of lesser fare like TRAPPED ASHES, and several others that ought not even to be named (CREEPSHOW III– shit, I said it!).  Some years ago, back when I wrote reviews on Netflix, I chose to tackle the beauty and complexity of CAT'S EYE.

I had a limited word count, and it went something like this:

There's so much to say about this sprawling epic, but since I don't have a lot of space, I'm going to center my comments on two aspects  of the film which merit discussion: the cat's performance, and the closing credit music "Cat's Eye" by Ray Stevens of the Village People.  First off, the cat delivers a first-rate,  nuanced performance, the best in the film.  No small feat considering James Woods and Candy Clark are two of the cat's co-stars.  Now before you assume I'm joking, I challenge you to watch the movie and say otherwise– this cat is gonna blow your mind.  The cat is a veritable powerhouse.  And the cat is uncredited.  Nowhere on the internet can I find any information about this cat or its career, and words can't do justice with what the cat manages to do with a basically non-written role.  

Finally, Ray Stevens' closing credits music "Cat's Eye" begins with perhaps the finest intro to any pop song of the 80s.  There's no way that any song can live up to that intro.  And, of course, the song doesn't.  But it's still pretty damn good.  And the lyrics shed some light on a few of the more obscure plot points, so if you choose to reflect on the film you've just seen during the end credits, like I do, you'll find it a lovely counterpart to your post-film musings and ruminations.

Obviously, I didn't have enough space to properly discuss CAT'S EYE, but I certainly don't disagree with my past self.  In fact, now, with the benefit of screen captures, I can show you the exquisite nuances of the Cat's  (named "General" in the movie) performance.  Here, General demonstrates existential longing:

Here, General demonstrates curiosity and apprehension:

Here, General demonstrates making out with a pre-teen Drew Barrymore, which frankly makes me kind of uncomfortable.


Sure, it's presented as a Gotcha! moment where you're expecting the cat to crawl up and start stealing her breath or something, and then you're relieved to find out that it's only kissing her, but then again, I'm not sure that cat-kisses were necessarily the best-case outcome for a scenario such as this one.  I digress.

Director Lewis Teague made a career out of drawing terrific performances out of animals.  Cujo in CUJO, the alligator and alligator puppets in ALLIGATOR, etc., etc.  Hell, Cujo even makes a cameo appearance in this film:

As does Christine the Plymouth Fury, who's driven straight out of the John Carpenter film and now outfitted with bumper stickers that proudly proclaim "Rock n Roll will never die!"  and "Watch out for me.  I am Pure Evil.  I am CHRISTINE."

Before I get ahead of myself, let's talk about the film's structure.  The frame story concerns the eponymous cat and his journey from New York City to Atlantic City to Wilmington, NC [side note:  Wilmington was Dino De Laurentiis central (i.e., BLUE VELVET) and home to such King adaptations as MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE, SILVER BULLET, THE NIGHT FLIER, and FIRESTARTER)] ostensibly in search of multiple-part playing Drew Barrymore who is in desperate need of his assistance.  On his way, he passes through– and plays a small part in– a few tales of mystery and imagination ("Quitters, Inc." and "The Ledge") before meeting up with Drew and starring in "The General."  It's not as good a frame story as Tom Atkins' EC-comic-hatin' father in CREEPSHOW, but I'm willing to go with it. 

Then the whole thing is shot by Jack Cardiff, one of the finest cinematographers to ever work in the medium– and the range of his credits is extraordinary.  He did Technicolor classics like THE RED SHOES and THE AFRICAN QUEEN and BLACK NARCISSUS and Hitchcock's UNDER CAPRICORN.  He shot big budget 80's muscle-bulging trashterpieces like CONAN THE DESTROYER and RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II.  And then he directed films such as the madness that is GIRL ON A MOTORCYCLE or the rough n' tumble actioner that is DARK OF THE SUN.  And here we got 'im on CAT'S EYE.  Pretty terrific.

Anyway, the first tale is "Quitters, Inc." from the first King story collection, NIGHT SHIFT.  Though published under King's name, it's more of a 'Richard Bachman'-style tale (King's pseudonym for a series of novels that were stripped down, grittier, meaner, and more nihilistic versions of King's mainline work).  Without giving too much away, this tale stars James Woods as a smoker looking to quit.  On the recommendation of a friend, he engages the shadowy corporation "Quitters, Inc." to assist him – without realizing to what lengths they'll actually go to make sure he kicks the habit.  

 

It feels a lot like David Fincher's 90s thriller THE GAME, and curiously enough, both co-star classic "that guy!" actor James Rebhorn.

Pictured here in a hallucination.

Anyway, since I don't want to spoil the major twists, I'll point out a few of my favorite things from this segment.

#1.  Smarmy James Woods.

Smarmy James Woods was really hitting his stride in the early-to-mid 80s.  Truly one of the great sleazemasters of his– or any other– era.  Even when he's our protagonist, you can still see the trails of slime he leaves behind.

#2.  The Kronenberg Konnection.

 

At one point, James Woods sits at home watching TV in a nicotine-deprived, scotch-soaked, glass-eyed stupor, and what is on television but David Cronenberg's adaptation of THE DEAD ZONE!  For the uninitiated, two years prior, James Woods starred in Cronenberg's VIDEODROME, a masterful showcase of smarmy Woods featuring mind-altering television programming.  Anyway, he briefly complains about the quality of the programming, and the entire moment warms the hearts of VIDEODROME die-hards everywhere.

#3.  Unnecessary violence toward golf bags.

 

While fearing that intruders have infiltrated his home, Woods grabs a bludgeon and whips open a closet door.  Out pops a bag full of golf clubs which lands on the floor with a thud.  After the bag has been fully visible and well lit for a good second or two, he begins pounding on it and lands two serious blows at a point when anybody shy of blindness would clearly see that it was an inert, harmless golf bag.   I found this to be hilarious.

THWACKK

#4.  Taunts from tray of deviled eggs.

'Nuff said!

#5.  The line "Forget the cat, you hemorrhoid!"  Gotta love Mr. King's occasionally misguided attempts at local patois.

The next tale is "The Ledge," also culled from NIGHT SHIFT.  This, too, feels more like a Bachman tale as it trafficks in sadistic gangsters rather than the supernatural.  It even features a henchman named Westlake, referencing the hardboiled writer Donald Westlake who wrote under the pen name Richard Stark (among others).  King references Westlake again in the novel THE DARK HALF (which deals with the emotional fallout after his outing as Bachman) with a writer character who pens pulp fiction under the name "George Stark."

Anyway, a gangster who loves to gamble (Kenneth McMillian, who played Baron Harkonnen in Lynch's DUNE)

catches his wife stepping out with a washed-up tennis player (Robert Hays of the AIRPLANE! series), and makes him a wager:  he'll grant the missus her divorce and let Hays have her if he can make his way around the entirety of the treacherous exterior ledge of his penthouse.  Otherwise, Hays will be set up on a bogus drug possession charge and go to prison for a decade.  The tennis player decides to give it a go, and there you have it:  straightforward stakes, a simple premise- a wiry potboiler with no ambition other than to land you a couple of mean-spirited, tawdry thrills.

The ledge effects possess a strange disconnect (filmed in a studio) which for me only amplifies their effectiveness.  Like all the segments, it's got an oddly-inappropriate-to-the-point-where-it-works sense of humor, and my favorite moments involve the dick moves perpetrated against our hero, like the douchey élan with which McMillan blasts Hays with a fire hose or distracts him with a bicycle horn

or this total asshole pigeon who peck-peck-pecks at your ankles just when you're at your most vulnerable.

Said pigeon also receives feathery and spit-take worthy comeuppance with a hearty kick and the poetry of:

"YOU FLYING SHIT HOUSE!"
Amen, Mr. King!

The final segment, "General," was written specifically for the film (and for the talents of the FIRESTARTER herself, Drew Barrymore).  It's your classic crowd-pleasing l'il creepy creature piece, drawing some degree of inspiration from Richard Matheson's brilliant "Prey," otherwise known as the Zuni Fetish Doll Segment from TRILOGY OF TERROR.

This segment is pretty spectacular, and it concerns primarily the efforts of a breath-stealing troll to terrorize Drew Barrymore.  General intercedes, but draws the ire of Mom (Candy Clark) and the exasperation of Dad (James Naughton) who believe the stray cat to be the cause of the late-nite shenanigans. 

The troll effect is terrific, employing SFX practical effects and occasionally a little person in a suit amid huge sets- it's in turns dreamlike and silly, and it works wonderfully.

Candy Clark gets to chew some scenery as she stuffs our hero cat in a cardboard box and exclaims "Your bird killing days are over, my friend!"

But the final showdown between General and the Troll is what truly takes the cake.  Crayons are hurled like javelins, backflips are employed, and a roller skate is used as a weapon and a mode of conveyance.  I also can safely say that I never in my life expected to see a cat dueling an evil gnome atop a child's record player as a terrible cover of The Police's "Every Breath You Take" plays in triple-time, chipmunk voices and everything!

It's also worth mentioning that this is the second time in the film that this particular Police cover gets a workout.  Way to be cost effective, Dino!

Anyway, the film ends, and then that majestic song, referenced earlier, washes over you as you contemplate the finer nuances of CAT'S EYE.   And because I could not find the lyrics poetry anywhere online, I shall print them here, for posterity:

I didn't know
I was under your spell
I couldn't know
There was no way to tell
I took a step
I slipped I fell
I didn't know whyyyyy

Deep in the dark it was too hard to see
That in the night it had come over me
Ha!
Just stole my soul
Imprison me
With your cat's eye

Cat's eye
How you caught me unaware
Cat's eye
How you hold me in your stare
Cat's eye
Want to hide but tell me where
Cat's eye
You got me spellllllbound
 Cat's eye
How you stole my breath away
Cat's eye 
How you cut me night and day
Cat's eye
I can never get away
Cat's eye 
I'm spelllllllbound

It's like a dream only when do I wake
Can't even scream every breath that I take
Belongs to you what can I do
Why should I tryyyyyyy

I look around like a boy in a trance
You pull the strings I'm a puppet I dance
You're holding me eternally
In your Cat's eye

Cat's eye 
Took my heart with just a look
Cat's eye
Every stare is like a hook
Cat's eye 
Just one look is all it took
Cat's eye
Made me spelllllbound
Cat's eye 
How you stole my breath away
Cat's eye 
How you cut me night and day
Cat's eye
I can never get away
Cat's eye
I am spellllllllbound...



Four stars.


-Sean Gill

I can't tell you how happy I am to live in a world where this is not an April Fool's Day Prank...PART 2!

Last year on April Fool's I examined some VHS covers that seemed almost too good to be true– heartfelt TV-movie dramas with Jamie Lee Curtis and Bette Davis, a Boglin hurling a pentagram in the direction of Fred Ward's balls, a film where Powers Boothe and Rutger Hauer battle for Kathleen Turner's love and for endangered birds, etc., etc.

So today in tribute to a bygone era, let us peruse these dusty shelves once more in search of that elusive 49¢ rental that could change your life forever... or at least give you an excuse to order up a couple of pizzas and a sixer of Schlitz.


Is Peter O'Toole supposed to be God? Is he pouring himself a drink or conducting an experiment? And what sort of furry critter has died whilst reclining upon Mariel Hemingway's head?


I like you, BLOODY NEW YEAR Ghoul. I salute your Crypt-Keeper-y sense of fun, your wobbly eyes, and your insistence on purchasing alllll the trimmings from the Party-o-rama outlet store. But above all... I salute your eyebrows.


Co-starring Lillian Gish, Candy Clark, and O.J. Simpson. No, REALLY.


How have I not heard of this? Durning... standing alone? "The story of a real American hero?" Is this a Durning auto-biopic?! Co-starring Pam Grier and Stacey Keach's brother? I don't think that I can go another minute without seeing this film. And finally- does Dom DeLuise make an appearance?


The pros:
•Bruce Glover.
•Skeletons with guns.

The cons:
•I kind of don't like how the skeleton is wearing chaps. It makes it look as if it's got shapely legs and child-bearing hips. That makes everyone uncomfortable.
•The $79.95 price tag.


"It all started out as a joke..." It all started out as a joke... IT ALL ...STARTED OUT...AS A JOKE!...


Did Oliver Reed realize that he was in a movie? Hard to say. Look at his glazed over, rum-soaked stare. Chilling. And on the other end of the spectrum, look at what care they've taken with the captive- making sure her hair has that ultra-conditioned sheen and even loosening her gag so that it doesn't interfere with her carefully positioned, backlit tresses.


Certainly in the running for having the most generic title of all time, DELTA HEAT boldly opines that "sometimes the truth can be murder." But what have we here? Anthony Edwards rocking out a peroxided coiffure and Lance Henriksen creeping up behind him, holding a gun at an unusual angle. Does Edwards know that he's there? Let's check out the IMDb synopsis: "An L.A. cop investigates the death of his partner in the swamps of Louisiana. Enlisting the help of an ex-cop who lost his hand to an alligator many years before." Yes...yes...and YES! Is that the disembodied hand that Henriksen lost, floating behind Edwards' shoulder? I need to see this as soon as possible.


Okay- how could they NOT name the movie 'DIRTY HARRIET?'


"We need a title for this flick?"
–"How about SLITHIS?"
"Surely we can come up with something better than that."
–"What, you've got something better?"
"Well not right now– come on, I'm supposed to just think of something off the top of my head? I haven't even had my coffee yet."
–"You can't come up with anything better than SLITHIS either."
"That's not true."
–"Well, okay. But until you do, let's put SLITHIS on the temp artwork."
"Fine. But only until I come up with something better."
–"Yeah, we'll see about that."


Golan and Globus present: FOUR CREEPY DUDES HIDING IN A BUSH TRYING TO SPY ON THE POOR MAN'S GOLDIE HAWN.


"JOE DON BAKER IS LOOKING FOR TROUBLE." Trouble always seems to find Joe Don Baker, from JOYSTICKS to WACKO to the infamous MITCHELL. Well, count me in, JDB. Count me in.


"Okay are you ready...let me lay somthin' on ya: DETECTIVE SCHOOL."
–"Is that all?"
"...DROP OUTS!"
–"Is that all?"
"...A Golan and Globus production."
–"Alright, I'm not gonna lie– you had me at DETECTIVE SCHOOL. But does it have that guy, the guy with the voice...the guy from the POLICE ACADEMYs...what's his name again? I can't get enough of that guy."


–"Alright, that might be a little too much Goldthwait."


It came...it saw...and it burned...a Rutger Hauer-lookalike.


The title and the font are telling me that this is a movie about an inspirational inner-city basketball coach, and yet I'm seeing an image of Peter O'Toole riding around on a tank.


So rule #1 is, predictably, that there are no rules. Fair enough. But is that a stain or the ghost of a buzz saw? And did I mention that this is Chuck Norris' son?


This might be my favorite title since THUNDERGROUND.


So is the GLOVE wanted dead, not alive? How does one kill the glove? Conversely, how does one take the glove alive? Or is the glove worn by the person who is wanted dead, not alive? Or is the glove worn by the person hunting the person who is wanted dead, not alive? Is this somehow related to ROLLERBALL?


"The race that drove Africa wild." I never expected to see Stockard Channing in hot pants bringing an entire continent to its knees. Even the monkey on her back is getting in on the ogling. Grinning David Carradine is still somehow riding the wave of DEATH RACE 2000. And Christopher Lee fits into this somehow as well?


So that wave subsided at some point- Carradine in old lady drag á la THE UNHOLY THREE? Apparently this flick has a devoted cult following and I hope one day to join its ranks.


Gotta love the Barbarian Brothers. Straddling that big truck with masculine intensity, untied shoes, and a slashed-front tee-shirt? And you know the other brother has got cut-offs on (just outside the frame). And who hasn't wanted to see Martin Mull and Richard Moll in the same flick? Plus, more Carradine! That's thinkin' big indeed!


Combine a Xander Berkeley lookalike, a feathered mane, a power drill, and a supporting role by Robert Davi, and what do you get? ...Nothin' but TRAXX!


I'll say no more beyond the fact that...this is a documentary!


I like to think of myself as a well-informed individual, particularly when Harry Dean Stanton movies are concerned. The fact that this one has slipped through the cracks of my awareness leads me to believe I should probably committ HDS seppuku. But maybe forty Hail Marys and a viewing of WISE BLOOD could atone for my sin.


I mean..what can I say? (Besides "I'd like to buy your album.")


Is this the eponymous "return" depicted here on the VHS cover art? Has the big payoff been ruined? Why even rent it now? "Oh, by the way, the finale is just Jan-Michael Vincent embracing a brown-silk-poncho-wearing Cybill Shepherd. THE END."


There have been some pretty enjoyable MAD MAX rip-offs. Everything from THE NEW BARBARIANS to STEEL DAWN to HELL COMES TO FROGTOWN. So was "OSA" really the best title they could come up with? And the best picture was this possible stock photo of desert bikers?


"STRIKE ONE - there's a killer on the loose... STRIKE TWO - you never know where he'll strike next... STRIKE THREE - too late." Look at how mortified Roy Scheider is. The poor guy is one of the finest actors of his generation, and he's starring in NIGHT GAME. My completely uninformed prediction of what the plot is: a psychopathic 'Nam vet baseball player slices n' dices sports commentators, stuffs their remains inside of baseballs and then plays with them. A player smacks a foul ball into the stands which lands on the lap of washed-up private eye Roy Scheider who discovers that...THE BASEBALL IS BLEEDING!


"An insane Hollywood makeup man kidnaps a woman, keeps her prisoner in his warehouse full of props. " Co-starring Keenan Wynn. I must say that I'm a little unnerved by how much psycho-Rooney resembles the elderly Richard Dreyfuss.


I've actually seen this movie. It has nothing to with a shirtless white man punching you in the face and everything to do with a shabby, middle-aged Leo Fong bopping dudes in the Bazzinis. I feel like your average viewer would be more inclined to see this if it were accurately advertised.


"I don't want to see that new movie, INTERFACE. It just looks like 'another fantasy game movie.'"
–"Ohhhh-ho-ho... that's where you're wrong."
"Whaddya mean?"
–"It's not just another fantasy game. These players are serious... dead serious."
"Well...."
–"Did I mention it's also got Lou Diamond Philips playing Punk #1?"
"Alright...fair enough."


"People are funny– and the 'Big Gag' proves it!" In that case, let's hope that space aliens don't get their hands on this looking for proof that human beings possess some kind of innate, uh, humanity, because I'm willing to bet that not only does the 'Big Gag' NOT prove that people are funny, but in fact proves that we are sickening degenerates, possibly beyond all help. (On the other hand, a New World Picture has never let me down yet.)


MASTER CLASS with Sho Kosugi?! But damn– He was gonna be live in person at the IVE Booth at the VSDA show!? I have no idea what that means, but I'm forced to believe that I've already missed the boat on this one.

But I don't feel too bad, because I now know that the disparate worlds of RETURN OF THE NINJA and WOLFEN once did collide...and the Word was called WOLFEN NINJA, and the Word was good.


In the name of all that is holy– John Huston plays God on judgment day, raining hellfire, brimstone, and wing-flapping slo-mo doves onto the populace, flanked by Mel Ferrer, Glenn Ford, Lance Henriksen, Shelley Winters, and Sam Peckinpah... ...WHAT?!!? "HE CAME TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM THE DEMON CHILD!"


This movie is so uninspired that it names its main character The Rider and his enemy The Omega Force. And he's not even The Rider, he's "The Rider." He's already, pre-emptively been put into scare quotes by the marketing team. That's how little respect they have for "The Rider." Oh, and you know Donald Pleasence? No? Not ringing any bells? How about Donald 'Halloween' Pleasence? Oh, you know that guy, right? What about Persis Khambatta? No? Oh, sorry, what about Persis 'Star Trek' Khambatta? Oh, you still don't know who that is? Fair enough.


I don't know where the Brothers Grimm are buried, but I can pretty much guarantee that they were spinning pretty hard in their graves until they heard that Brad Dourif was gonna be in this. It co-stars James Earl Jones and William Atherton, the full title is actually GRIM PRAIRIE TALES: HIT THE TRAIL TO TERROR, and IMDb reviewer Lee Kelly calls Dourif and Jones "a 'buddy' pairing to rival Riggs and Murtaugh. Give them their own series!" Alright, I'm sold.


Anyway, enjoy your April Fool's, everyone–may all your Brads be Dourifs, all your Lances be Henriksens, all your Ollie Reeds be drunk, all your dogs be named Hambone; and whenever there's a Cannon pointed in your direction, pray that it's operated by a couple of whacky cousins named Golan and Globus, and is easily procurable on Betamax, Laserdisc, and VHS! Amen.

–Sean Gill