Tuesday, Sept. 29, evening:

Thos. made a 15-pound (!) lasagna and we settled in for the first two movies, “Blood and Steel” (1990) and “Kill or Be Killed” (1976).

We discussed the former effort here. I counted blows to the groinal-type area again and came up with 15, somewhat less than the original estimate.

Here is a good sample, including golf shoe fu (0:00 – 0:12) and crotch kick (0:43).

Also noticed a lot of confusion as to characters who appear and disappear without much in the way of explanation.

Here is the Wiki entry for “Kill or Be Killed.”

Maybe somebody knows what this word is. The fighters use it as as a sign of respect. Sound like “ooss” or “uss.” Steve says it at 43 seconds in this trailer

Here is the famous Home Improvement scene, which includes the only known example of a self-inflicted El Kabong (1:28).

Wednesday, Sept. 30, morning:

Waking up and what better time to do some Harry Homeowner stuff. In the course of clearing off the big dining table so it could be used for actual dining, as opposed to piling stuff on it because there’s no other place, I uncovered this ancient cigar box. The Drug & Chemical Club sounds like something that had Hunter S. Thompson on the board of directors.

Mist lifting off the mountain. Definitely fall now. Admire my dense collection of multiflora rose bushes in the bottom photo.

Wednesday, Sept. 30, evening:

Aside from an Esopus recon I did absolutely nothing today and enjoyed every minute. Dinner was grilled sirloin and steak fries, and CACAfest continued with “Dangerous Men” (1985), the film that defies bourgeois concepts like making sense and having a plot.

Here’s criminal mastermind Black Pepper smacking ace detective Clint Westwood around.

Then we dipped into blaxploitation history with the 1973 Isaac Hayes vehicle “Truck Turner.” Also starring Yaphet Kotto and Lt. Uhura. The “Pursuit of the Pimpmobile” sequence alone is worth the price of admission. (Here it is, thanks to the Wonder of YouTube.)

“Truck Turner” is covered here.

We’re watching a lot of this stuff on Tubi, and we keep getting this ad featuring this fellow showing off his gums. Three or four times is one thing, but after the 12th repetition Gummo is starting to get to Thos.

I’m sure he’s a terrific Youth Development Specialist.

Thursday, Oct. 1: Today was devoted to Harry Homeowner tasks, and the CACA diet was light: Andy Sidaris’ “Fit to Kill” (1993), the eighth and final installment of the Triple B series. Triple B stands for bullets, bombs and babes. The Sidaris Method is to stack the cast with Playboy models, get them out of their clothes as often as possible, and graft that onto a threadbare action plot. Add a few explosions and sinister bad guys and you’ve got a nice cross between a shoot ’em up flick and softcore porn, and you can show it on cable TV.

Fortunately the actors in this scene kept their clothes on.

We’re talking approximately 22 breasts, one pint of blood, atrocious kung fu, remote-controlled and missile-equipped helicopters, gratuitous Suzuki Sidekicks, and the state of Hawaii.

Lead actress Dona Speir has an interesting story.

Now playing: Karate Cop, featuring the Karate Cop, the Cute Plucky Girl, Snaker the Mutant Gang Leader, Lincoln the Fat Evil Genius, and Lincoln’s Champion, the King of the Death Pit. With a cameo by David Carradine as Dad, who makes Dad’s Famous Jacky Rabbit Stew. Ahh, post-apocalyptic action at its finest.

The title of this post is very misleading. The bass fishing was lousy the last two weeks of August, and I have no idea why.

Dave from Glastonbury came up one morning and managed only a savage, man-eating perch. It looked more impressive as he reeled it in. Note his look of triumph as he subdued the ferocious beast.

Ian and I went into the Serious Ravine in search of brookies. It was the first major test of my new hip, and it was a success. The underused thigh muscle did file a formal complaint, however. I had a regular doc checkup a couple days later, and just for laughs we measured my thighs. (“We measured my thighs” is a line I hope to never write again.) Sure enough, the left thigh muscle is two inches bigger than the right. Looks like some resistance training’s in my immediate future.

A spring on the way in was running at 57 degrees, and when we made it down the Wotld’s Longest Staircase the stream was at what I’d call a medium-low flow, but cold enough at about 62. Here’s a representative brookie and Ian scaring everybody with his fancy mop fly.

Then the batteries in the point and shoot died.

We shift operations back to the Catskills next week.

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.

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.