Bass fishing August 2026 part one

Bass fishing August 2026 part one

SOMEWHERE IN NORTHWEST CONNECTICUT, Aug. 17 — The pleasant summer ritual of bobbing around in a warm water lake lazily catching largemouth bass and other finny denizens has been less than ideal. Weather and work, work and weather. They’re not coordinating very well.

It’s been a warm and wet summer and there’s a lot of water in the lake. Water has been running over the spillway for six weeks straight. This is unusual. It’s usually bone dry this time of year.

The lake is not very deep. Ten to 20 feet most of the way, with a couple of spots that get down to 40-plus and one that’s about 60 feet down.

But for the bulk of the acreage there is not enough depth to get the kind of churn that circulates colder water from the bottom to the top. The water temp is basically uniform, and that uniform temperature is between 78 and 80 degrees.

Bass, perch, panfish etc. are all much more tolerant of higher water temperatures than the fickle trout, who go into Witness Protection once the water temp hits 68.

But even lunker bass and silly bluegills draw the line somewhere, and that line seems to be…

You guessed it: 78 to 80 degrees.

Some observations, midway through the month:

If you want surface action the best time is dawn. Alas, I have not made it out of bed at dawn — yet. Second best is dusk, and I finally induced a LMB to come up from its hidey hole in the grass at the bottom to grab a big fat yellow popper I was twitching around in a vaguely hopeful manner.

Between the giant net and moderate wide angle lens the majesty of this largemouth bass is not apparent. It’s about 18 inches long, four inches wide, and probably weighs between three and four pounds.

Also like most LMBs, it gets tired easily. Note the resigned, fatalistic expression. Bucket mouths are nothing like their distant cousins, the smallmouth bass. Every SMB I’ve ever met thought it was a lot bigger than it actually was, and behaved accordingly.

The overwhelming majority of the action, such as it is, has been subsurface. Here is a medium-sized LMB that took a streamer fished deep, and a photo in hand for perspective. This one was spunkier than most. Jumped a couple of times before throwing in the towel. I appreciate the effort.

There are a lot of perch messing around this summer. Same as last year, but they’ve all grown about four inches. There’s nothing like a Great Lakes specimen, but pretty good for this place. Feisty, too. Bottom shot shows Mr. Perch expressing his dismay at the situation.

One of my oldest pals, Crosby, expressed an interest in learning the dark arts. I had him out in a canoe and he connected twice but was unable to seal the deal. First one he struck way too hard way too fast, but the second one he had the rod bending and the bass diving. Afterwards we did some casting practice. The gleam in his eye told me a fly shop somewhere is about to make a few bucks.

To borrow the recap formula from John P….

What worked:

Wooly Buggers, size 2-6, cone heads and rubber legs, olive, black, beige. Clousers, Bass Vampires, mops, and those tinselly streamers that look like Christmas tree decorations if you have a warped idea of Christmas. Sink tips, built-in and added, are helpful, as is an intermediate line (one of the very few times I ever use one). Poppers at dawn and dusk.

What didn’t:

Poppers and any other surface fly at any time except dawn and dusk.

Rods/lines:

Orvis 8 foot 3 inch 7 weight with WF7.

Echo 9 foot 8 weight with WF8 and three foot sinking tip

Orvis 10 foot 7 weight over lined with WF8 intermediate.

Basic leader: Bozeman Fly Works 7.5 foot 1X nylon with a couple feet trimmed off and 1X Bozeman fluorocarbon tippet added (including dropper). Almost always fishing two flies at a time subsurface.

Gop

Gop

Not a political party.

“Gop” is what you get when you rustle up a meal from what’s on hand.

In this case, we’re talking leftover chunks of chicken sautéed with onion and red pepper and doused with a barbecue sauce from New Mexico that’s got medium red chile in it.

First, in a cast iron skillet on medium heat, I melted a couple tablespoons of unsalted butter and added green and yellow squash sliced thin. I bought them a couple days ago and in another day they’d be turning into a science experiment. So now or never.

After the squash got mostly cooked I sliced a dozen cherry tomatoes in half and tossed them in. Then I added the chicken BBQ stuff, stirred, turned the heat down and covered the skillet.

Then I cooked up some chickpea pasta. You have to watch this carefully. There’s a done window of about 15 seconds. One second it’s al dente; then it’s al mush.

Drain pasta, put some in bowl with John Deere logo, spoon in some chicken/squash, add a little grated Parmesan.

And voila.

Gop.

Takes about 15 minutes.

Summer Schlock 2026 part four

Summer Schlock 2026 part four

Noburo Iguchi’s Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead (2011) is not, strictly speaking, about toilets. There is an outhouse in the film, and it has zombies in it, but it’s really incidental to the plot, which almost never gets in the way of the story. Megumi is a nice Japanese schoolgirl who knows some kung fu and is heartbroken over the suicide of her sister. She goes camping with her friends, in the best, time-honored, “Stupid People in the Jungle” manner. Alas, there are zombies around, and a mad scientist. We’re talking the usual exploding heads and popping eyes. Visible farts. Visible farts with demons in them. Zombies walking on all fours, backwards, with demon parasites sticking out of their butts. Flying parasite queen, in blue sun dress and flowered panties. Nekkidity. Eight gallons blood; four gallons assorted glop. One mad scientist, one toothless goober, one skeezy drug addict, one flying trout. An outstanding piece of work, and short, too. Iguchi is an instant Immortal. Four coils, no doubt about it.

The Warrior and the Sorceress (1984): Roger Corman from his Argentine Period. There are two main bad guys. Zeg is the Dictator-type, and Bal Caz is the fat one wearing a designer diaper. Then there is the immortal Maria Socas, topless almost the entire way. Plus gnomic utterances from David Carradine, cunningly disguised as a kung fu master named Kain, as opposed to his famous TV role as a kung fu master named Kaine. Copious nekkidity. One Assault Iguana. Two gibbering sycophants. One gang of slave traders with burned, squashed faces. One extra 1980s mullet-headed bad guy. One old guy who hides in a cave. Two dozen scurrying villagers. One well. This is everything Bad Cinema should be. Four coils.

Naked as Nature Intended (1961): Drop everything and find this nudist film by the immortal Harrison Marks. We’re talking cows, ducks, Stonehenge, girls in Capri pants and the Famous Lorna Doone coach. Personally, seeing Pam, Jackie and the gang encounter the Famous Lorna Doone coach is a real highlight of my career as an important and influential film critic. The one thing this flick is a little light on is nekkidity. But hey — we get to see Tintagel! (The legendary castle of King Arthur, you oaf.) Two coils for historical curiosity value.

Savage Weekend (1979).  Hippies Go Upstate, a variation of Stupid People in the Jungle. There isn’t much here except for William Sanderson as “Otis.” It’s the same role he always plays, except usually his character is named “Cooter.” Death by hanging, hat pin, electrocution, blunt force trauma and chain saw. Bulletin: People in Upstate are violent goobers who listen to Jeezus radio and don’t like gay guys in their bars. Frolicking in the fields, which in the age of Lyme disease is probably a thing of the past. Long soliloquies by Cooter er Otis in a graveyard. Boat-building. One coil.

The Wrestling Women vs. The Aztec Mummy (1964): At last, the movie that answers these questions: Can bad guys really run around on ancient Aztec pyramids in those pointy little shoes without tripping? And can women in tight sweaters and Capri pants really save the world from an Ancient Evil? Bad dialogue, worse dubbing. Female wrestlers. Comic book villains. Unconvincing, wailing mummy. Short neckties and peak lapels. Gratuitous driving back and forth to the ancient pyramid. Capri pants. Girls in tights. The parts that aren’t bizarre are idiotic. Better than Citizen Kane. Shorter, anyway. Four coils.

Summer Schlock 2026 part three (with cannibals)

Summer Schlock 2026 part three (with cannibals)

Cannibal World aka White Cannibal Queen (1980): The immortal Jess Franco delivers again with this haunting tale of cannibalism and atrocious dubbing. Couple with young daughter go sailing near cannibals, who have Mom for dinner, eat Dad’s arm but allow him to escape, and worship the daughter. Dad returns with a search party of nitwits. Hilarity sort of ensues. Cannibals look like they were working at Auto Zone last week. Topless daughter/goddess who grew up very fast. In-stream Kung Fu. Gratuitous snakes, crocodiles and tops of trees. Confusing and short, with funky cannibal music. Outstanding. Three coils.

Cannibal Terror (1981): Shot at the same time and place as “Cannibal World,” with many of the same extras. Also some of the same shots of monkeys, dancing cannibals and the kind of gloppy detritus one comes to expect at cannibal settlements. Stupid criminals kidnap rich guy’s daughter, flee into jungle and become lunch. We’re talking barf city. Efficient butchering. Auto Zone cannibals. Fleeting nekkidity. Enthusiastic yet uncoordinated dancing. Idiotic rescue attempt. Way too much plot getting in the way of the story. Two coils.

Massacre in Dinosaur Valley (1985): Our survey of cannibal movies continues with this specimen, featuring the Stupidest People to Ever Go in the Jungle. Paleontology trip to the Amazon goes awry when the plane crashes. The stupid people manage to die in various stupid ways until it’s just Kevin and the two girls, who have to deal with a) the cannibals and b) the illegal miners who have slaves. Nekkidity. Snakes. Glop. Lesbitation. Spear chucking. Indigenous religious ceremony rudely interrupted by Kevin. Dinosaur footprints but no dinosaurs. A solid example of how to stretch a film to the breaking point ie. 90 minutes. Three coils.

Primitives (1978): An Indonesian entry, featuring three stupid people plus a stupid guide who go to the jungle to study the natives. The first gang isn’t primitive enough, so they pay the guide extra to go deeper into the jungle where they find a tribe of cannibals who look like a grubbier version of Three Dog Night and communicate entirely in grunts. Gratuitous fish eye lens. Gratuitous animal vs. animal footage lifted from somewhere else. Gratuitous and puzzling 70s lounge music. Afterbirth licking. Depenising (implied). Turns out jungle fu has the same main rule as regular kung fu: Only one guy may attack at a time. No nekkidity. Tough sledding, frankly. One coil.

Slave of the Cannibal God (1978): Two of the stupid people in the jungle here are recognizable, or at least they were in 1978: Ursula Andress and Stacy Keach. Everything else is pretty much the same. Ursula’s looking for her missing anthropologist husband deep in the jungles of New Guinea. The usual hijinks occur. Lots of snakes in this one. Funky ceremonies. Nekkidity in the form of cannibals and Ursula’s personal chest. Lizard eating, which may or may not follow lizard butchering. Ursula in a goddess costume, attached to a tower of sticks, in a cave. Depenising (strongly implied). Dwarf cannibal. Somewhat higher production values than the standard cannibal flick. Groovy music. Highly offensive in every way. Four coils.

Summer Shlock 2026 part two

Summer Shlock 2026 part two

“Evils of the Night” (1985):  Catwoman Goes to Gilligan’s Island to Meet Mad Scientist but Instead Gets Aldo Ray. Similar to an Our Time date, in other words. Gratuitous everything, with actual porn stars of the era. A very greasy movie that failed to resurrect the careers of Julie Newmar and Tina Louise. John Carradine was already deceased but everyone was too polite to mention it. Slightly better than two coils, not weird enough for three, and I can’t find the half coil photo. 

Violent City (1970): Italian production with Charles Bronson, Jill Ireland, Telly Savalas  and inconsistent dubbing. Chuck is a hit man irritated when someone tries to hit him. Revenge is on the agenda. Car chases. Foot chases. Brick wall that magically appears just in time for victim to crash into it. Long stretches with little or no dialogue, which is fine because it would only get in the way of the story. Some critics think this is an artistic flick. They could be right, it’s boring enough. Two coils.

Bride of the Gorilla (1951): Hey gang! Let’s rework “The Wolf Man” on a banana plantation! Lon Chaney’s too old to be the heavy but he can be the police commissioner!

Everything else is pretty much the same! It’ll be great! Two coils.

Karate Tiger 2 aka No Retreat, No Surrender 2 (1987): The first one had Jean-Claude van Damme, and this one has Cynthia Rothrock. I prefer the latter. Dorky American with Thai girlfriend manages to get her kidnapped by evil henchmen of sinister and thoroughly unconvincing Russian. Hilarity ensues. Pimps. Grimy hotel. Stupid hat. Maximum kung fu. Also guns, knives, bombs, RPGs, exploding restaurant table. Alligator pit. Best line: “Come on, let’s book.” Extensive survey of Thai food. No nekkidity, a grave flaw in an 80s action pic. Two coils.

Fever Lake (1997): The Bill Rebane Tradition  of making crappy movies in Wisconsin continues. This is a “Stupid People Go to Haunted House” variation on “Stupid People in the Jungle.” Teens go to lake house where bad things once happened. Teens die in mildly creative ways. Evil shawl. Badly-maintained kerosene lamps. Gratuitous Native American dispensing Ancient Wisdom. Gratuitous Bo Hopkins. Gratuitous “Don’t Go in the Attic!” No proper nekkidity, inexcusable in a direct-to-video production. Two coils.

Summer Schlock 2026 part one

Summer Schlock 2026 part one

Blood and Steel (1980): Mark Swetland wrote, directed and starred in this piece of purely American chop socky. His character is called Mark Swetland, too, indicating a healthy ego. He backs it up, too, by demolishing every bad guy foolish enough to have a try. There is some plot but it doesn’t get in the way of the story. Gratuitous Bruce Lee noises. Gratuitous Bruce Lee bowl haircut. Gratuitous Bruce Lee yellow jumpsuit. Kung fu, golf shoe fu, motorcycle fu, poorly-tailored three-piece suit fu and toupee fu plus bad firearm shooting and worse maintenance. And the movie holds the all-time record for groin kicks (27 — I rewound it and counted). This tremendous effort rates four coils and an Iron Coil nomination.

Bare Knuckles (1977): From Don Edmonds, the diseased mind behind “Ilsa: She-Wolf of the SS,” comes this greasy tale of a bounty hunter who must stop a kung fu serial killer. A blaxploitation flick threatens to break out but that story line is abruptly abandoned. Bargain basement Norman Bates. Two plucky heroines. Mild nekkidity. Gratuitous and lengthy L.A. River scene. Gratuitous gay bar scene, with an entire Village People’s worth of stereotypes. Generally appalling. Highly recommended at three coils.

The Alien Factor (1976): The first film by the DeMille of suburban Baltimore, Don Dohler, features an alien that looks like ambulatory seaweed, a pathologist who can’t pronounce “autopsy,” and the worst toupee in cinema history. All this and a band called “Atlantis” doing a pretty good song called “Maybe Someday.” The movie was shown on TBS for years, usually at 3 a.m. It’s a testament to what can be accomplished with sheer will and very little talent. Two coils.

Shogun’s Ninja (1980): Part period drama, part sword-fighting flick, and all incomprehensible. As far as I can make out, the Shogun is the bad guy. His henchmen kill the daughter of the rival clan but the faithful retainer gets away with her little boy. Many years later, the boy is all grown up and looking for revenge. Gets it, too, but not without a lot of plot getting in the way of the story. Sword fighting. Muskets. Torture. Public execution, foiled at last second, resulting in pyhrric victory as foilers shot and hacked to death by backup henchmen. But not before the hero escapes, of course. It’s strange to complain about too much plot in a movie like this, where a plot is usually seen as a necessary and annoying transition between fight scenes. But there it is. Two coils.

The Guy from Harlem (1977): A fellow cineaste remarked that he couldn’t imagine watching this spectacularly inept blaxploitation flick without the Rifftrax commentary. Well, I could. I now own the DVD, and it is even better than I thought. Which is to say, worse.Where to begin? The hero’s insistence on reminding everybody in Florida that he’s from Harlem? The hero’s incredibly poor fighting skills, matched only by everybody else’s? The lengthy driving and parking scenes? The X-rated stuff that constantly threatens to break out — and never does? The drug dealer who yells at everyone? The CIA guys in J.C. Penney suits? The rousing “Guy from Harlem” theme? If you like schlock, you cannot miss this one. A CACA Classic.

The Many Films of Fu Manchu

The Many Films of Fu Manchu

Between 1965 and 1969 British producer Harry Alan Towers made five flicks starring Christopher Lee as the evil and fiendish Dr. Fu Manchu,  Howard Marion-Crawford as Dr. Petrie, who harrumphs very Britishly, and Tsai Chin as Fu’s daughter Lin Tang, who is no slouch in the evil department. While all these films are respectable enough, they do get a bit schlocky, especially numbers four and five.

The Face of Fu Manchu (1965): Directed by Don Sharp, the first Fu film gets right to it, with Fu getting his head chopped off with his arch-enemy Nayland Smith (Nigel Green) in attendance.  Hahaha. Fooled you. Or should that be Fu’d you? Anyhoo Fu is very much alive and in London trying to get the Black Hill poppy distilled because a pint of the stuff will kill everyone in the city. One wonders why the acknowledged genius Dr. Fu Manchu, whether on the screen or in the novels by Sax Rohmer, always cooks up such complicated schemes. We’re talking decapitation (implied). Gratuitous henchmen. Gratuitous tweed suits. Minor swashbuckling (in tweed suit, for extra credit). No nekkidity. And for those readers who have trouble getting organized, The Cluttered Desk of Fu Manchu will make you feel better about yourself.

The Brides of Fu Manchu (1966): Don Sharp returns to direct this threadbare spy story that’s got Fu Manchu grafted on top. This time the doctor is developing a Death Ray and he’s kidnapping prominent scientists to help, using their beautiful daughters as collateral. We’re talking snake pit. Gratuitous wearing of Ascots. The unbearable lightness of empty cardboard boxes as hurled about in fight scenes. Death Ray vs. ocean liner. Abrupt non-sequitur in the form of the French Foreign Legion. Brides vs. henchmen fight. No nekkidity. Suggested alternate title: The Unusually Large Boiler Room of Fu Manchu.

Vengeance of Fu Manchu (1967): Directed by Jeremy Summers and co-produced with Hong Kong’s Shaw studios, purveyors of fine kung fu flicks. Starts off with a cheery mass execution at Fu HQ, conveniently located somewhere near the Great Wall of China. Nayland Smith, played by the appropriately wooden Douglas Wilmer, gets swapped for a double created by Fu’s kidnapped plastic surgeon, and the replacement is no fun at all. Meanwhile Fu is holed up at HQ doing vaguely evil stuff. And there’s a German mercenary in the mix. Gratuitous and endless nightclub singing. Minor kung fu. No nekkidity. Best line: “Hey, what are you doing here?” Featuring The Many Gongs of Fu Manchu, The Humongous Bell of Fu Manchu, and The Awkward Silences of Fu Manchu. By far the weakest entry in this series.   

Blood of Fu Manchu (1968): Prolific hack Jess Franco takes the helm for the fourth installment. This time around, Fu’s needlessly elaborate plan is to destroy his enemies by getting  little deadly snakes to bite a bunch of attractive young women. Then they (the women, not the snakes) go and kiss the enemy on the lips. The enemy immediately goes blind and suffers a protracted, unpleasant death, unless someone gets an antidote in time.  Why the girls don’t die when the snakes bite them can be chalked up to Fu’s evil genius. Or, since this is a Jess Franco film, to sheer incompetence. Gratuitous snakes. Gratuitous gongs. Ninjas. Fat bandit chief. Stupid people in the jungle. Harrumphing, British-style. Half-hearted orgy, which almost had some nekkidity but some spoilsport intervened at the critical juncture. Suggested alternative title: The Almost Complete Lack of the Blood of Fu Manchu.

Castle of Fu Manchu (1969): The last in the series and with Franco directing again, the flick is long on silliness and short on coherence. We’re talking fiendish plotting in boats on the Bosphorus. Extended sequence of henchmen trotting around bearing clearly empty coffins on their shoulders. The most unobservant palace guards in cinema history. Gratuitous fat guy in nightshirt. Gratuitous fezzes. The Brightly Colored Liquids Boiling in Flasks of Fu Manchu. No nekkidity.  Classic ending: “The world shall hear from me again.” Except it hasn’t. Alas.

There are two Fu films made with Warner Oland in the title role, one with Boris Karloff, and a TV series with Glen Gordon. They are all interesting in their ways but Fu fans should check out the 1940 Republic Pictures “Drums of Fu Manchu” serial, available in a two-disc DVD set. With Henry Brandon as Fu. Made by the same people who did “Captain Marvel,” with the same sets, graphics, music and extras. Each chapter is about 18 minutes long (except the first, which is 29 minutes) and has a cliffhanger ending. After the U.S. entered World War II and China was an ally, the Chinese government politely asked the State Department if they could put the arm on Republic to cheese it with the Yellow Peril stuff, and that was it for Fu Manchu on the big screen until 1965.

Despite the obvious flaws in the individual movies, as a whole the series rates a hearty three coils with the automatic on coil dedication for no nekkidity.

Behold the Majesty

Behold the Majesty

There’s a new Deathstalker flick out. Let us take a look at the four previous films from the 1980s and early 90s, and see how the new one stacks up.

Rick Hill and his maximum expression in the first Deathstalker flick

Deathstalker (1983): The first epic, starring the stonefaced Rick Hill. These flicks are all MacGuffin-heavy. In this case, our hero must get the Sword of Justice which will reunite the Three Powers which will in turn enable Deathstalker to defeat the evil wizard Munkar. Got that? Also starring the immortal Barbi Benton. Sword fights. The first appearance of a sequence in which a man tied to a rope is dragged behind a galloping horse through the woods, with predictably unfortunate results. (This sequence is also used in Deathstalker II and IV.) Gratuitous names that sound like prescription medicines and/or new Toyotas: Salmaron, Nicor, Tulak. Mild nekkidity. Mud wrestling. Very silly and serious at the same time, no mean feat.

John Terlesky and Monqiue Gabrielle in the deliberately goofy Deathstalker II

Deathstalker II: Duel of the Titans (1987): Here at the Bad Cinema Desk we have a soft spot for this installment because it stars fellow Denison University alum John Terlesky. While fit, he does not have the standard Brave Hero Look. Think hunk, not hulk. Also starring Monique Gabrielle in a dual role as Reena the Seer and evil Princess Evie. The latter was cloned from the former by the evil wizard Jarek, played with panache by another schlock immortal, John Lazar. Reena has to combine a precious gem with another precious gem, or something like that, to reclaim the throne. Gratuitous nekkidity. Gratuitous feasting. Warrior with pig head looks askance at roasted pig head on platter, eats anyway.  Little guy who looks like the late Hubert Humphrey playing a lute. Wrestling match between Deathstalker and Queen Kong. The worst sword fight in cinema history, and that’s saying something. Played for laughs by Terlesky and director Jim Wynorski, who apparently wrote the next day’s scenes the night before while drinking. Outstanding.

Above: Bat helmet, Deathstalker-style

Below: Bat helmet, Cher-style

Thom Christopher is Gloria Swanson in Deathstalker III

Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell (1988): Aka “Deathstalker III,” this one is dominated by the late and immortal Thom Christopher as the evil wizard Troxartes, wearing a turban and channeling Gloria Swanson in “Sunset Boulevard.” The lead is played by John Allen Nelson, who like Terlesky looks like a college kid. Agustin Salvat shines as the evil henchman Makut, mostly because of his bat helmet, seemingly inspired by the cover of Cher’s 1979 album “Take Me Home.” Another “we must reunite the two precious gems” type of MacGuffin. Gratuitous nekkidity. Gratuitous feasting. Zombie warriors. The famous potato scene. Attempted swashbuckling. The best of the series. Or the least bad, if you prefer.

Rick Hill in mid-quip in Deathstalker IV

Deathstalker IV: Match of Titans (1991): The weakest of the original four movies. Rick Hill returns, and this time they gave him quips. The soundtrack struggles valiantly to keep up with the “action,” and the “action” richly deserves the scare quotes. We’re back to the Sword of Justice. This time the evil Queen Kana (Michelle Moffett) has summoned all the warriors to a tournament so she can poison them. The usual sword fights. Many heads roll. Gratuitous feasting and nekkidity but no zombie warriors. Quip about “vital juices.” The memorable Battle of the Small Trout Stream. Best line, guaranteed verbatim: “Deathstalker, you old fragotash!” 

Daniel Bernhardt as Iggy Pop in the 2025 Deathstalker remake.

Which brings us to 2025’s Deathstalker, where director and screenwriter Steven Kostanski has put together a pretty decent update. The flick veers between pseudo-serious and campy. Daniel Bernhardt in the title role looks like Iggy Pop, not necessarily a bad thing. On the minus side is a whole shipload of plot getting in the way of the story, and — get this — no nekkidity. Not even a hint. To balance out this grave defect, we’re talking lots of glop and gore. Plenty of material for the fantasy crowd, including the Amulet of Halgan and the Sect of Sytor and evil main henchman Jotak and evil wizard Nekronemnon. Also swamp creatures, a flying eye, a sorceress with her head inside a chained-up crate, more pigmen, and a flying rotary saw blade. The Sword of Justice makes a cameo appearance, and it’s sprouted two extra blades since the last one. Nice stop-action special effects and other handmade stuff. None of your crummy CGI nonsense here! The regular evil henchmen are called Dreadites, which we will assume is a homage to (and not a rip-off of) Sam Raimi’s “Evil Dead” movies. Don’t try to make it make sense. Just let it wash gently over you, which shouldn’t be hard if you’ve already watched four straight Deathstalker movies.

A Culinary Triumph

A Culinary Triumph

In order to make my world-famous No Effort Shepherd’s Pie I need Stouffer’s Corn Souffle, which was discontinued in 2021. The spinach version still exists and it works, but it’s not the same.

So I made it, using a recipe I found on the internet. Click here.

I don’t have an electric mixer, so the first time I did it the blender. This worked but the end result wasn’t as fluffy as it could have been.

Second time around I did by hand with a whisk. It was easy.

The recipe says 35 minutes at 400F but I found it to be more like 45 minutes.

Now the No-Effort recipe

Put a hunk of meatloaf, a pound, in a round Pyrex baking dish that is about seven inches in diameter and three inches and change deep. Add an egg and just mash it all around, smushing it as flat as you can get it.

Add the souffle. If it’s Stouffer’s, take it out of the package and just plonk it in there frozen. If it’s homemade, spoon it in and spread evenly. (You can do this with the Stouffer’s spinach souffle too.)

Top the whole thing with instant mashed potatoes. I prefer Idahoan Butter and Herb. One packet will do it. Sprinkle a little grated Parmesan on top.

Bake at 350 for about 50 minutes, or until it’s golden on top.

I don’t have a photo of the pie but here’s my second attempt at corn souffle.

Except for making corn bread once about 30 years ago, I have never baked anything in my life, so I’m feeling rather pleased with myself.

The Immortal Cynthia Rothrock

The Immortal Cynthia Rothrock

A while back, the Bad Cinema desk was investigating two movies, “Martial Law” and the imaginatively-titled “Martial Law II: Undercover,” both starring a shortish, incredibly fit and rather cheerful-looking woman: Cynthia Rothrock.

Looking into it a bit more, we found that Rothrock has over 80 movie credits and has been a martial arts superstar for decades. So why isn’t she a household name?

Because she’s not named Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan.

It’s an outrage, and we’re gonna do something about it.

In “Martial Law” (1990), Rothrock and Chad McQueen (Steve’s son) are cops and David Carradine is the evil kung fu-practicing international car thief. We’re talking fun with pizza, the most annoying snitch in cinema history, and a compelling visual discourse on the inadvisability of stealing cars at night from a well-lit dealership located on a busy highway. No gratuitous nekkidity, which really isn’t a problem here, as nobody wants to see any of these people nekkid.





Chad is replaced by Jeff Wincott for the sequel, “Martial Law II: Undercover” (1991). This is much rougher stuff, not least because it has a “sex scene” involving Billy Drago. A kung fu villain runs an expanding underworld empire from the kind of bar you can’t get into without a double-breasted suit and a ponytail. There are large, grunting lackeys, a bit of gratuitous nekkidity, and Rothrock delivering swift justice while clad head to toe in teal.

“Yes, Madam” (1985) is Rothrock’s debut, as Carrie Morris, a Scotland Yard inspector in Hong Kong to help Inspector Ng (Michelle Yeoh) do something about a piece of errant microfilm. There is an exceptionally unconvincing dubbing of a British accent for Rothrock, who strongly resembles American Olympian Mary Lou Retton — except Retton didn’t do kung fu. The movie makes no sense, which is OK because it’s short. Plus, Rothrock delivers her trademark scorpion kick to some hapless goon’s forehead, which is worth the price of admission.

“City Cops” (1989):Here our heroine is FBI agent “Inspector Cindy,” who comes to Hong Kong to fight crime in warehouses, alleys, office buildings and airports. Featuring the spectacular Receptionist’s Desk Roll. We also get a comical cop duo, a martinet police superintendent, and an extended opening riff on gender that would be impossible to make today.

“Undefeatable” (1993) was directed by Godfrey Ho, the Jess Franco of the East, and despite Ho’s Hacko di Tutti Hacki status, this movie actually has a story and makes sense. Rothrock plays Kristi, who participates in illegal fights to earn enough money to get her sister through med school. Meanwhile, Anna dumps her psycho husband, Stingray, who fights on the same underground circuit as Kristi — but he’s a lunatic and has a mullet.

Anyhoo, there is a lot of plot involving a couple of cops and Kristi’s dorky gang, and none of it matters because at the end Kristi and the cop subdue Stingray in extremely gory, horrible and entertaining fashion. And then everybody goes to college.

“Black Creek” (2025): Rothrock produced, co-wrote and starred in this crowdfunded Western, in which she plays a tough woman who rides into town to find her family has been destroyed by the local bad guy, played by the late Richard Norton. You could make a 15-minute reel of Rothrock and Norton kicking each other over the years, so this is a fitting coda. (Norton died in March 2025.) It seems Rothrock spent most of the budget on sets, lighting and costumes, figuring the writing would only get in the way of the story. So it’s heavy on the fighting, and anyone who thinks kung fu and Westerns don’t mix deserves a scorpion kick to the noggin.