Greetins once again from the trailer park near downtown Krum, where every day is like Monday. As y'all noticed, I ain't been around much, what with the economy kinda not bein' the best and me havin' to work extra hours turnin' horses into glue down at the factory. Fortunately, the meth labs down here are thrivin'. There's so many of them in the trailer park that I'm thinkin' of franchin' 'em, kinda like they do with Mary Kay. See, this is why capitalism is a good thang.

Some of y'all been concerned about whether Bertha-Jean and I are gonna stay together after some of my earlier posts. (After 30 years of marriage, things can get kinda dull, and she's been wanderin' all around town searchin' for a Fabio look-alike.) Well, it seems that Bertha-Jean's been pouring over the internets and buying all sorts of exotic gadgets to spice up our romantic life. They come in packages covered with pouty gals and lusty gents that look like they're just waitin' to give you the jollies. Trouble is, the gadgets don't come with no instructions, so we aren't rightly sure what to do with 'em. Some of 'em kinda rotate around, so we been usin' 'em to beat eggs with for breakfast. If worse comes to worse, may just give 'em to the Salvation Army or the church rummage sale.

Bertha-Jean's also discovered that our local cable company (which has 12 stations) also offers some pay-per-view films for the, um, over-18 crowd. They're kinda pricey, but the worst thang about 'em is that they're filled with all these hot people, but after they get me worked up, then the only option I have to finish the task is Bertha-Jean, who looks kinda like a bloated corpse covered with enough makeup to keep the late Tammy Faye Bakker in check for years. She don't like it when I try to cover her face with a paper bag during the act, but I look at it as being environmentally conscious--recycle, recycle, recycle.

My fav'rite pay-per-view flick is one called Meat Me At the Ballpark, which is sort of short on plot, but I guess that's to be expected. (It's not sponsored by Oscar Mayer, in case you're curious.) Some of 'em leave me confused, like one called Mavis' First Time. "First time doin' what?" I wondered. Maybe it's her first time wearin' clothes, because she seems to take 'em off awful fast. I guess I'll never know.

Speakin' of obsessions with what people like to do in the bedroom, we got us another winner from Italy this time called Beyond the Darkness. It's sort of a love story. Sort of. It's pretty darned twisted. It's relatively gross. So we got all the makings of a major classic on our hands.

What was got here is this blond-haired young whippersnapper named Frank (Kieran Canter), who likes to stuff dead animals in his free time and who's all hot and bothered for some shapely lady named Anna (Cinzia Monreale). What Anna doesn't seem to grasp is that there's some competition--Frank's nanny Iris (who looks like the grim prison matron in one of them wimmin-in-chains films). Iris (Franca Stoppi) figgers that she needs to thin the competition a little by goin' to a voodoo woman to stick some pins in a little doll. Since this is a science-based flick, that means that Anna winds up in the hospital and there ain't no hope for recovery. Well, there's a little hope--Anna seems to do better before promptly keeling over after a smooch with her beloved. I'm sure the Obama Death Panels had somethin' to do with this.

"Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful!"

We've all heard that, "It's what's on the inside that counts." Apparently, Frank takes that literally since he decides to remove Anna's innerds, then licks her heart and starts munchin' on it like it's the last piece of fried chicken at the Lions Club picnic. (It gives the phrase "Have a heart" a whole new meaning.) But Frank's no one-woman man--he promptly picks up a fat British female hitchhiker and takes her home, tho' she doesn't fare too well after seein' Frank's surgical prowess on Anna--the hitchhiker lady screams and tries to run, and Frank's forced to pull off her fingernails with pliers before smothering her. Fortunately, ever the understanding type, Iris helps dispose of the body in a bathtub full of acid after chopping up the larger bits. (This kind of housekeeping skill is hard to find these days!)

You won't find eats like this at the Kip's Big-Boy

Next thing ya know, Frank's ready for another gal. (Poor Iris--she can't seem to catch a break!) He finds another chickadee joggin' and invites her back for some major-time lip-action. But the joggin' broad starts pitchin' a fit when she notices that they're making out next to Anna's body. (Some folks are just impossible to please.) Frank has no choice but to gnaw a hole in the lady's neck and then pitch her in the incinerator alive while he roasts her good enough to serve at KFC. Iris is gettin' a little tired of the competition but agrees that Frank can keep Anna's body lying around as long as Iris and Frank get married. Iris insists on announcing the event at a dinner where there's a woman with so much hair on her face that I thought they'd finally located Bigfoot! Ay carumba!

This isn't the best way to make-out on a date!

Even though the wedding's a go, Frank insists on trolling for more girls. He doesn't give it a second thought when a crazy old lady outside a bar launches into this long poem about "Body three times cursed; pain and torture first. Body in a bed; body growing dead." (I wonder if she does Bar Mitzvahs.) As if things aren't weird enough, it then turns out that Anna has a sister named Eleanor, who shows up and is an identical twin. (For those of y'all who didn't graduate elementary school like me, she's played by the same actress.) This seems like the best of both worlds to Frank, since he can pretend that Eleanor is Anna, except without the unpleasant decay. Meanwhile, there's a nosy investigator wandering around who keeps thinkin' that somethin' strange is goin' on. Ya think?

"I'm free on Saturday night. My girlfriend's a cold fish."

Of course, Iris ain't too keen on havin' her boy-toy's gal-pal look-alike around, which is understandable, because it's tough enough to have to compete with a corpse for attention without live bait hangin' around. And Eleanor keeps hearin' the voice of her dead sister warnin' her that danger lurks nearby. So, we got trouble right here in River City. (They say that all's fair in love and war, but since the libruls control the media, I never listen to 'em.) But when Iris tries to polish off Eleanor, everything goes to you-know-what in a hand-basket. And when Iris pulls out a knife to turn a stallion into a gelding, I wasn't able to sit down normally for a week. (No, it weren't my hemroids--I use Preparation-H.) I won't tell you where this thing is headed, but it's a doozy. Believe me, you'll get your money's worth.

Getting the knife here is an example of a "bad touch"