Robowar - Robot da guerra (1988)
(Release Date: December 05, 1989 [Portugal])
AKA: Robocop Number 2: O ekdikitis (Greece)
AKA: Robowar (UK English Title)
AKA: Saiba robo/ Cyber Robo (Japan)
AKA: Roboman (West German Video Title)

Uncarvable BULLSHIT?

A Foul-Tip in the Forest!!!

J.C. Maçek III... 

NO Bot!
J.C. Maçek III
The World's Greatest Critic!

[Continued from the 2009 Thanksgiving Turkey!!!]

Flynn exited the craft at gunpoint, still on her guard. “You’re not going to kill me?” she asked, standing in the leafy clearing near her shanty.

“Kill you, Flynn? No, of course not… Don’t you understand? I’m the GOOD GUY!!!”, Nagas said with a self-assured, dangerous smile, breaking up his now-haggard and weathered appearance!

And with that, the door slammed and the craft swirled out of existence, at least in Flynn’s time. “The good guy? Not if you fragment the time stream you’re not!”

Flynn ran inside and rummaged through her belongings, desperately searching for her Westinghouse brand “Weird Device”. Thankfully she had found the blinking last remnants of “The Internet Archive” and had backed up the entire thing (in the future a handheld computer like Flynn’s Weird Device stores about six hundred billion terabytes of data all on a storage medium about the size of your dog’s toenail clippings)!

Flynn rushed through the generations of data to find’s 2010 Thanksgiving Turkey and began to read to find out what Nagas had done in the past (instead of re-watching more episodes of Lost). Would Flynn even recognize if things had changed or would any change affect her memories as well? She was mildly stunned to note that the first word in the article was her own name… She skipped down past the first several paragraphs and began to read…

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Almost as incongruous as the cover to FUTURE KILL!

Hey, it's Clif Steel! I want to be your ROBOT MAN, your ROBOT MAN! A TERRIBLE Part of
Captain America is SLUMMING!
Operation: Sci-Fall Version 2010!
Follow Kneumsi on Twitter Like Kneumsi on Facebook Watch Kneumsi on YouTube Read Kneumsi on MySpace

The crowds were beginning to reach a level of restlessness unseen since the line-ups for the most recent Harry Potter flick... which had only been about six days prior, so it really wasn't all that damned noteworthy! Still, people had come from all over this country and the next to crowd around the most recent venue of the Kneumsi Dinner Theatre, which had grown over the last several years from a back alley gathering with supernatural undertones to something much bigger. Big enough that hundreds were clamoring to be let in and made a part of the continuing story... and to witness the 2010 Thanksgiving Turkey!!!

All of the news stations (except Fox) were there interviewing the fans about why they wanted so bad to be let in, why they risked the danger, what shirts they wore and how they first started reading you know... shit like that. Local eateries remained open late to serve the crowd and vendors passed out T-Shirts that read crap like "I Survived the 2010 Thanksgiving Turkey" on the front and "At least I hope so!" on the back, with a really weird looking version of Kneumsi's face glaring out from both sides. Headbanger kids held up signs that read "I'm Nagas' Bitch!" Sexy girls in Jungle body paints with teased hair said "Review ME, Kneumsi!" into the trolling cameras! Bootleg DVDs of Corpses, Land's End, Jaws 4 and Troll 2, along with genuine VHS copies of Executioner II were being hawked by Japanese Jokers on the sandy sidewalk.

There was a strange energy electrifying the crowd and becoming infectious as it spread through them like "The Wave" at a somewhat well attended Houston Astros Farm Team game on free hotdog night. The thrill was palpable as the lined-up fanatics munched lunch, answered "Nagas Trivia" questions, smoked cheap cigarettes, brushed up on all of the previous Turkeys (including the Christmas variety) and played "Star Wars Stratego", of course! They were ready, nay, eager, nay dying to be let in to be a part of the Kneumsi Dinner Theatre.

They all, surely, would have felt like a bunch of assholes had they realized that they were in the wrong place and crowded around the wrong building and weren't to be let in fuck-where that day.

Then again, had they known what was to come...

The guests that legitimately held the proverbial golden tickets (inadvertently or not) shuffled in to the main dining room of the former chocolate factory that Kneumsi had stolen for the occasion. They ignored the tattered, unfolded posters that read things like "Win Part of a Guitar" and "Speed doesn't kill... IMPACT DOES!" and "Full On Godhead!" and one that had the complete lyrics to the "I Can't Get Over Ovaltine" Jingle, including the rare, radio-only, musical bridge, all printed out in that nice, clean 2001 A Space Odyssey font. Slowly, but not as slowly as this story gets to the ACTUAL review, they surrounded the long-ass dining table and took their seats, looking confused and pensive, yet somehow still excited and... and HUNGRY!

"What do you think it's going to be this year?" one guest asked her sleepy-looking neighbor (who still wore the faded "Hello, my name... RICKY!" sticker on the jacket he hadn't put on since last year).

Her response was a shrug.

"You think he's serving Fish this year?" a cowboy asked with a blunt grunt. "He served fish 3 years ago. I'm hoping for Turkey!"

"I'll just be glad if he doesn't serve Tofurky! He's a vegan, you know." the construction worker next to him muttered.

Next to him, a guy dressed not unlike the T-1000 with the traffic-cop helmet on countered with "Oh, yeah? Well, I heard he was just a vegetarian. That's not quite as bad! But I got to agree with you guys, if it's Tofurky or Fish, I'm just going to leave, man!"

"How." said a Native American man just to the traffic cop's left. He was dressed in the full feathered regalia with war paints and even leather chaps.

"Oh, uh... 'how' back at you, man!" the cop responded.

"No, you idiot... I mean, 'HOW?' How are you going to leave? I hear that you're in till after the movie and the QA Session, whether you like it or not." the Chief said back.

The traffic cop was flummoxed. "Oh, sorry, man... I... I didn't realize you spoke English! But, uh... Good point, man."

The Chief just glared at him with a cold and fiery look that spoke much, much more than any chilly, heated exchange about lukewarm, shivering prejudices ever could!

The first guest jumped back in and said "Ew... I just hope it's not Italian!"

"Oh, you don't like Italian food?" the cop asked, leaning forward to look at the woman over the three people in between them.

"Not the food. The movie! I really hate Bad Italian Horror Movies!"

The cop laughed "Oh, hey! Heh-Heh-Heh!" He turned back to his left to find the Native American guy still glaring at him as unhappily as if he'd just littered on the freeway. The cop straightened his face, coughed into his sleeve and looked back forward, uncomfortably.

He was saved by the bell, or, rather, by the BULL that accompanied Kneumsi and ALL his ROWDY friends as they took the stage and blocked the doors on both levels to the cued-up intro music of Spinal Tap's "Sex Farm". All of the usual suspects were there, from Ricardo to Kneumsi's daughter, to several lovely lesbian couples and an entire gaggle of disaffected independent filmmakers.

Kneumsi bounded onto the stage in his faded red, untucked shirt with matching laceless Chuck Taylors and worn-cuffed 'Nanner Public jeans. He held both arms up, like he was Rocky or somebody and bounced around as a small portion of the crowd gave him some very light applause. Still, he kept jumping and thrashing all about as if receiving an enthusiastic ovation! He even punched downward through the air as "Sex Farm" concluded as if punctuating his own late night talkshow intro tune.

A few of the people who had clapped before put their hands together for a second lazy round as Kneumsi took the microphone. "Yo, Yo, Yo! Welcome to the SIXTH Annual Thanksgiving Turkey!" He paused for applause, nodding his head with a quickly fading smile when the claps never came. "Okay, then!"

Scanning the crowd, he lit upon the woman who hated Bad Italian Horror flicks and smiled "Hey, there, Jeni! Haven't seen you since Jaws 4! You're looking Smart today. Glad you could make it again! Couldn't help overhearing earlier and, no, it's not Italian food... Bring on the dishes, you douches!"

Kneumsi's friends (none of whom particularly liked being called Douches in front of the guests) began serving "all the fixin's", from the grass and booger caserole to the can-shaped cranberry sauce, to the gray gravy to the inconsistent brussels sprouts to, of course, the stuffing... instead of potatoes!

"Furthermore," Kneumsi continued, "the film itself happens to NOT be horror! In fact... this is something totally different! Tonight we view and review a film from the man responsible, in so many ways, for bringing us films like Terminator 2..."

This time the crowd did applaud and were vocal in their support what they heard.

"And... Virus!"

The crowd was less enthusiastic, but still clapped.

"As well as a well known underwater horror film, PLENTY of movies about Aliens and a jungle hunter vs. commando adventure that - "

Kneumsi was interrupted by a a familiar looking Leather Biker Dude who blurted out "Hey, 'scuse me and all, but are you really serious, man? Are we actually watching a GOOD flick this Thanksgiving? I mean, clearly you're talking about Jim Cameron, right?"

The crowd murmured excitedly amongst themselves like happy Smurfs after the Smurfberry harvest. Kneumsi responded "So, what do you guys think? Do you all want to watch a Jim Cameron flick?"

Many clapped until Ricky, who was surprised to find himself there, stood up and said "No, now, wait a second, you know this guy and you know he's snowing us! Cameron didn't make that Borg-flick Virus!"

Jeni gently pulled him back to his seat and advised "No, but he was given special thanks in the credits! And he was the one who came up with the idea for putting the Mandibles on the Predator!"

The cowboy chimed in "Aw, yeah, he was, I heard that on the commentary! So that's the hunter/ commando flick! And what about the Underwater flick?"

Someone at the far end of the table in a business suit called out "Who cares, man? I love Aliens, man, and I'm just CRAZY about Avatar, especially in 3-D! The man's never made a bad film!"

The cop beamed "And man, I LOVE me some Terminator 2!!!" He held up an immediate hand to block the scornful gaze of his neighbor to the left.

Jeni chimed back in "Well... there WAS Piranha Part Two! That one wasn't so... Oh, no! THAT's the Underwater flick? We're watching that one?"

The murmurs became more belligerent... more like Snorks than Smurfs! Kneumsi patted the air to calm everyone. "No, no, no! We're not watching Piranha Part Two: The Spawning! That's not the underwater flick I meant!"

Several in the crowd responded with shouts of "What then?" and other things much more profane in nature.

"Oh, the film I meant was Cruel Jaws!"

Jeni laughed "But Cameron had nothing to do with... with... oh!"

Kneumsi sneered. "Somebody's getting it. But don't worry! We're not watching Cruel Jaws either. I'm done with the Fish Turkeys! But that doesn't mean you'll be happy with what you're getting!"

The Chief slapped the table "But you said Terminator 2! You said Virus! You said Aliens, man! How could you... How... How... How..."

The Chief stopped stammering because the cop next to him was snickering loudly into his hands, trying desperately not to be heard.

Kneumsi grinned until his dimples popped out and walked across the room. "The man I'm talking about is... Bruno Mattei!"

Half of the crowd gasped and Jeni, Ricky and the Business suited guy all shouted "NO!" in unison!

"Yarp!" Kneumsi drawled. "Fucking Bruno... the man responsible for the unauthorized, un-called for and uninteresting remake of Aliens, which he dared to call 'Terminator II' before good old Judgment Day even came out. He also directed Virus, better known as Hell of the Living Dead!"

Several groans and moans escaped the lips of the crowd.

"And in 1988 he made a really horrid piece of crap film that merged the concepts of RoboCop and Predator into one idiotic, ungainly, laughable whole, given the obnoxious and insipid title of 'Robowar'! And... hoo-boy, it's bad! It would be considered a blight on the career of any director BUT Bruno Mattei. For him it's par for the course."

Watches were checked, cell phones were attempted to be used, but found blocked, tears were shed and fear abounded.

Kneumsi then lifted a huge tray with a silver dome-like cover from behind the stage and walked it to the center of the table. "Here's your Turkey!" He said with a gleeful whisper and uncovered the dry, gamey bird. Ricardo walked up to carve off slices to toss, disrespectfully, onto each McDonaldland plate Kneumsi had set before the guests, while a disinterested Marine poured Wal*Mart Champagne into the cow glasses. "And..." Kneumsi continued, "here's your... TURKEY!"

And with that the cracked back wall was illuminated by the picture as the sounds of a projector filled the room (which was strange because the movie was obviously a digital rip from a bad Japanese VHS Bootleg of the film and it was displayed through a twenty-dollar Sharper Image digital projector Kneumsi had shoplifted from a Ross store).

If the picture quality (with Katakana subtitles) wasn't bad enough, the audio track was marred by some incredibly irritating and nauseating sounds which were something like a cross between Max Headroom on Quaaludes and the busted-ass printer from Office Space... as if they had some illegitimate love child that had no education and was recorded for this movie.

"What's the matter, Kneumsi?" The Biker guy started. "Couldn't get a print without these sound quality defects?"

Kneumsi laughed "Oh, ye of too-much-faith. We're not even to the opening credits and you can't handle it. My friend... this is how the makers of this film INTENDED it to sound."

The biker choked on his bite and grabbed his wine, only to choke more!

But then something much worse happened... the opening credits DID begin... with the name "Reb Brown".

The audience reacted violently with cries of "No, not him!" and "LET ME OUT OF HERE!" and "That Captain America fucker?" and "Please, GOD, no!"

Ricardo just laughed.

Shockingly, after the lamely animated title card slithered its way across the screen, Jeni recognized another name "Clyde Anderson?" She shouted in mortal DISGUST. "As in the dread Claudio Fragasso's don't-sue-me-name? What is this some kind of a sick Joke?"

Kneumsi popped up from in front of the table and grinningly declared to her face "Nope, baby, this makes TWO Thanksgiving Turkeys in a ROW with Fragged-Asshole in the credits!"

The construction goof hollered "It said 'and with' on the screen. Like, as in, the ACTORS? Why is his name in the cast list? WHY IS HIS NAME IN THE CAST LIST? WHY IS CLAUDIO FRAGASSO'S NAME IN THE CAST LIST???"

"Shhhhhhhhhh..." Kneumsi soothed, slowly placing an oxygen mask over the man's hardhat. "After co-writing the film he decided he wanted to be in it... and you'll hate to find out who he plays."

Jeni gasped "Co-Wrote? You don't mean..."

And with that, Kneumsi spun around and held up BOTH HANDS to the screen as if revealing the LOST ARK OF THE COVENANT. Above his head were the hated words "story by Claudio Fragasso and... Rossella Drudi"!

"Oh no, NOT HER!" one of the other guests moaned.

"Funny, that's what I said last year." Kneumsi agreed as the screen switched to the even worse admission of "screenplay by Rossella Drudi"!

Nobody was happy. Nobody. However, the group calmed down enough as the "dialogue" began and the "characters" were introduced. That is until Reb Brown's face popped up on the introductory slideshow, identified as "Major Murphy Black, better known as KILL ZONE"! Half the group began pelting the screen with their entrees and sides! This was NOTHING compared to when the group Murph the Smurf leads is revealed to be called "BAM" for "Big Ass Motherfuckers"! The character of Mascher (played by some goofball named Mel Davidson) reacted just as poorly, saying "Sort of like... get to it and go get FUCKED, like in NAM!", which brought an already bad film down three more notches. That's when the crowd started throwing their drinks.

"Hey, now cut that out, man! Ricardo, Lynelle, can you guys refill these drinks? Have some Champagne... maybe it will help you find SOMETHING to like in this movie."

The cop waved to Kneumsi and said "This ain't Champagne, man!"

"Miller High Life." Kneumsi responded flatly. "Champagne of Beers."

Not even actual Champagne could have made palatable the introduction of the sweaty, annoying, pot-smoking, racist, homophobic "heroes" riding in on their shining white fishing boat!

But... as Kneumsi could never leave an introductory slide-show well enough alone, he started calling out each goober's name as they appeared onscreen in their Miami Vice-neon clothes.

"Fuck Yeah!", Kneumsi screamed, "The Wanna-be Elite , lame-ass Commando Replacement Squad!!! SOUND OFF!
  1. Kill Zone (Reb Brown)
  2. Quang (Max Laurel)
  3. Papa Doc (John P. Dulaney)
  4. Blood (Jim Gaines)
  5. Diddy (Massimo Vanni)
    And even...
  6. Corey (Romano Puppo)"

"Please tell me that guy's name wasn't 'Diddy'!" someone in the crowd muttered.

"Well, they all had nicknames... but how would you like to be that last guy... just... 'Corey'?" someone else whispered.

"Shaddap, you!" Kneumsi hissed. "You'll miss how hilariously this film follows the plot of Predator exactly!"

And it did. With very few exceptions... this was a virtual remake of Predator right on down to the stupid-looking distorted vision that the monstrous hunter in the jungle had. However, unlike Predator's really cool-sounding imitative voice, the pathetic forest freak had that incredibly irritating computerized stuttering voice. The voice itself and the annoying affects would have been the worst thing to hear in the film, but the painful start-stop electronic score by Al Festa was the audio equivalent to POISON OAK!

The biker guy shook his head. "I can't believe the Predator was really supposed to SOUND like that!"

The Chief said "I can't believe the MUSIC was supposed to sound like that. How could it be that bad intentionally? How?"

He involuntarily punched the laughing cop next to him.

Drudi's screenplay dutifully touched all of the plot points from Predator, from finding the skelatonized corpses to facing off with angry South American rebels to even rescuing the hot Damsel in Distress.

"HEY! Now we're TALKING!" said the suited goober as the blonde damsel in distress bounced onto the screen in her wife-beater but NO BRA! "This might have some redeeming qualities AFTER all.

"There's no nudity." Kneumsi muttered, matter-of-factly.

"FUCK!" every man (and half the women) in the place cried out.

"True, Catherine Hickland's character is totally hot, but her character's name is 'Virgin' and she stays that way."

The biker was nonplussed. "Say, when is that guy in the cycle helmet with the leather coming back on screen? He seemed all right."

Kneumsi shook his head. "Dude... that's the bad guy."

"WHAT?!", the crowd screamed.

"Yeah... that's what they came up with for their rip-off of the Predator." Kneumsi explained. "Ridiculous, isn't it? Basically it's a motorcycle helmet with a plastic starfish and a drink coaster hot glued to it and some plastic-ass armor. It's SUPPOSED to be a Military version of RoboCop that they built out of... ha ha ha... MURPHY's best buddy... but he really kind of looks like Richie in that one episode of Happy Days when he had to disguise himself as The Fonz!"

"You already used that one, Kneumsi! In your review for Night School!" Jeni said.

Kneumsi was impressed... sort of.

But the film kept getting worse. this stupid Predator knock-off peeked around trees like a villain in Scooby-Doo, stalked the main characters inconsistently and annoyingly, with the apparent intention of doing nothing more than padding out the film like so much Stuffing (instead of potatoes), the "heroes" engage in a really stupid game of wait and see, watching a gaggle of evil revolutionaries kill a bunch of nice-guy civilian medical volunteers without lifting a trigger-finger, until only the hot blonde "virgin" is left... THEN they act fast. Nice guys. What support they had in THIS audience.

"We are supposed to be rooting for the RoboCop/ Predator thing to kill off all of the sleazy soldiers, right?" asked a young lady at the table.

"Well, you COULD, I guess... except that the 'Omega-1', as The Hunter is called, was played by... Clyde Anderson!"

Another crowd uproar took place almost to the point of an out-and-out riot. "THAT ASSHOLE IS FRAGASSO?" someone yelled as they tried to escape to the door. "And there's no NUDITY?" someone else called out! "Where's the JOHN?" and older gentleman inquired.

It all led up to an insulting finale that brought full-circle the predictable (and horrifyingly obviously foreshadowed) twist-in-the-end that seemed to have everyone's intestines twisted at each end!

Before the end credits rolled, the film even engaged in that same Predator cast members reappearance in ascending order as their names are displayed to give a smile to the audience in appreciation. The rip-offs NEVER ended, nor did the scars this bad film would leave on the audience.

Each castmember showcase at the end was greeted with LOUD boos from the audience and the catapulting of would-be leftovers at the screen to cake and coat the plaster like a sickly fresco. The loudest boos and the most thrown objects were reserved for CLOD Anderson himself!

"Yeah, I'd want a pseudonym, too, dick!" called the Cop.

"And How!" agreed the Chief (before muttering "dammit" under his breath).

Jeni and Ricky both stood up "This was horrible! HOW DARE Fragasso and Drudi credit themselves as WRITING this thing? It was Predator meets RoboCop through and through!"

Ricky, who had failed to even survive his first Turkey, but was back to suffer again, agreed, angrily. "And what's with that DIALOGUE? Somebody actually siad 'Life's a Bitch and then you DIE!' like it was a COOL expression or something! Why not 'Where's the Beef?' or 'Shit Happens!'"

Kneumsi shrugged. "Well in Zombie 5 a character says 'Where's the Beef!' In fact, there's a trailer for that film at the end of these credits, if you want to watch it!"

The entire crowd voiced their opposition to this plan, so Kneumsi said "Say, Ricky... you know what the original title for Zombi 5 was?"

"No, what was it?"

"It was Killing Birds!

Ricky turned pale, swallowed hard, sat down and shut the eff-you-see-kay up!

"What did you all think of the special effects?" Kneumsi asked.

"What special effects?" someone said.

"Were there any effects? If so, they sure weren't special!" another agreed.

Jeni nodded. "The explosions, laser bolts, pyrotechnics... yeah... I saw them. They really sucked."

"And the acting?"

One long groan in unison was Kneumsi's response.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," the suit-and-tie-guy frowned, "but Reb Brown might have been the best actor in this thing."

Ricardo just laughed.

"Yeah... and what's with the fat guy with the beard?" Cowboy demanded.

The crowd all shouted in agreement "Yeah, the fat guy with the beard!"

Kneumsi sat down at the edge of the stage, sort of like a mid-80's version of Phil Donohue on a VERY SPECIAL EPISODE. "So... I guess... we can all agree... that this movie... sucks?"

"FUCK YEAH!" the audience yelled!

"Then... any other questions?"

Suit-and-Tie Guy raised his hand "Just one."


"Um... why are you holding a little dog, man?"

Again, the crowd agreed in unison "Yeah, what's with the little dog, man?"

Kneumsi looked down at the struggling solid black pup in his arms that looked like some genetic experiment resulted in an RC Car-sized Italian Greyhound with a Jack Russell Terrier head grafted on it, Frankenstein style. "Oh... he's my... I don't... He's..."

"He's really CUTE!" mocked one of the ladies.

"Yeah!" called the construction worker. "Who are you, one of the HILTON Sisters now?"

"No... I just couldn't leave his ass at home, because he makes too much noise."

"And why are you HOLDING him, Kneumsi?" Guy Suity countered.

"Because he's no good around strangers. He... bites."

"Aw!" shouted the construction worker, "HE BITES?"

And with that, Kneumsi let the little monster go and he attacked both Guy Suity and Connie Struction in ways much more graphic than anything in that lame movie...

"Yes, folks, that's the REAL reason I brought this wacky dog... because Robowar is truly, horrifyingly, deeply and honestly a VERY Predatory Turkey or, as they're called on a Dog! THAT'S RIGHT, you goof balls all just ate DOG! How was it?"

Of all the sounds the crowd responded with, NONE of those sounds were positive.

"All right, kids... those of you NOT being mauled by my dog, get on out of here, go home and kiss your families!"

Ricky started! "What? You're not going to punish us in some horrible way, like you do most every year in that nasty-ass Crypt Keeper style?"

"No... I figure you've all suffered enough. I was going to do just that... in fact, I've got a doorway that leads right back to Land's End where the real Omega-1 Hunter is waiting for you all... but after having to watch this squirt of celluloid PISS, I think you've had enough! For this year... but I'll catch up with you again! Yes! And every year... every year... we need more THANKSGIVING GUESTS to sit in our Kneumsi Dinner Theatre and carve up our annual Thanksgiving Turkey!

Who's next?

Perhaps... YOU???"

And the crowd ran away, suddenly free... never to take their lives for granted again. Robowar... Torture. Torture.


“Something wrong, man?” Ricardo asked as Kneumsi scanned the darkening room.

Kneumsi paused and said “Strangely, I kind of felt like Nagas was going to show up and try to mess everything up again.”

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted him to!”

Kneumsi slid on his coat and did his best not to let the door hit him in the ass on his way out. “No, of course not. Just… strange. Even as unpleasant as his machinations were, I guess in some odd way, I’m going to miss them. I feel a little like Kato after Inspector Clouseau died.”

Ricardo muttered. “Yeah? You look a little like Kato. And, maybe Ira Glass a bit. Like if they had some strange love child that-”

And their voices trailed off behind the door.

Some time later the room was filled with light and the Stolen Time Machine appeared. Nagas bounded out of the still opening hatch and posed dramatically like Superman (as he usually did). His red and white armor was dulled, his hair longer, his gaunt face bearded, but his smile had never been larger.

“Huzzah! Vengeance is MINE!” he bellowed as he shot multiple bolts of light from his gauntlets, each of which formed an impenetrable field at the doorway or window Nagas had aimed at, sealing the room so that nobody could escape. It was not altogether unlike those nifty “Blood Seal” things from Tales from the Crypt Presents Demon Knight!

“I’ll bet you didn’t expect to see me again, did you? Well, here I am! The Dread NAGAS! I waited in the shadows for four years, watching you like some weird-ass latently gay stalker guy, until Last Thanksgiving when I hijacked Flynn’s return ride and reset the temporal jaunt for Thanksgiving 2010 where I shall at last have my re-… re-… “

“Venge” was probably going to be the next thing out of Nagas’ unbrushed mouth, but he was dumbstruck once he really looked around the dark room to find it empty except for a janitor with his mop and push-bucket.

“Well, just where in the name of the Kraken IS everybody?”

The Janitor, who seemed to be in a remarkable state of not being flummoxed when faced with a time-traveler turned homeless guy turned time-traveler and his amazing (though stolen) time displacement device, casually looked at Nagas and said “Uh, we’re closed. Were you here for that Thanksgiving Dinner Theatre thing?

“Was I-? What? What? What? YES!” Nagas stammered, bemused, confused and feeling used.

“Oh, that’s over. You missed it by like forty minutes. Everybody’s gone. Everything, too! ‘Cept this damned mess they left.”


“Think I said that.” The Janitor looked around in that strange way that former chronic recreational LSD bingers tended to. “I think I did… Maybe I… Huh.”

“Yeah, yeah, you said that. I missed it. Holy… I totally MISSED IT! Well that’s great, that’s just GREAT, after four years of… Well SHIT! SHIT! Just… Just… FUCK!” Nagas stamped his foot, stormed back into the time ship and set controls for Thanksgiving 2011.

This is instead of using his TIME MACHINE to go back a couple of hours to stick with the original plan, which he easily could have done… but Nagas is kind of an idiot.

The Janitor stood in the midst of the settling tachyons and yelled to the nothing “You gonna let me back out of here Mister Weirdo???”

The End… And the Beginning!

Yeah, these direct rip-offs didn't start with "The ASSylum"
They just made them WORSE.
Yes, there are even worse movies than this one...
Click here for THOSE reviews and be glad you never had to WATCH them!

Robowar - Robot da guerra (1988), the 2010 Thanksgiving Turkey
Reviewed by J.C. Maçek III
about writing this review and promoting Bruno Mattei and Claudio Fragasso even more than he has before!
Maybe this TURKEY was so long people stopped reading it LONG ago!
Got something to say? Write it!

I can't get OVER Ovaltine! It's so delicious now, it tastes FANTASTIC, WOW! It's a whole new thing, O-O-O-Ovaltine!
I can't get over Ovaltine, I can't get over Ovaltine!
I love the way that it squashes on my tongue, this isn't the Ovaltine we had when we were young!
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Flynn and ONLY Flynn knew what was coming! She slapped her vintage July 2337 spiral notebook closed and mused at its ancient orange cover... "College Ruled" it said... and she was forced to agree. College Ruled, all right, but since then everything has pretty much sucked ass.

Had she the ability to do it all over again, she surely would have changed her major to "Queer Theory in the Fast Food Presentation Industry" or something equally as rewarding. But noo-ooo. She had to focus her studies and energies on "The Downfall of the Earth Societies (all those millenia ago)". And once she found the catalyst, she couldn't even tell a single peanut-buttered soul in the galaxy about it, lest the entire brain-drain might restart and her own society might fall. Ugh... perhaps the next time some wayward time traveler abducted her (which seemed to be happening one hell of an inordinant amount of late), she might beg for a segway, run afoul of her college aged self and bitch slap the fuck out of herself back to the General Studies division. "Colleged Ruled". Shit.

And then, with as close to "no warning" as one can possibly get when actually expecting something anyway, Flynn started to feel the rumblings, like a cross between IBS, PMS and a nuke-caused Earthquake, of what she already knew was about to happen. Had she been a Jedi (or even if she had been dressed up like one for Halloween) she might have described this sensation as feeling a Tremor in The Force. In actuality, there was nothing paranormal about this knowledge which was, in fact, owed exclusively to the fact that she lived in what we would consider the far, far, far (please apply your own exponent to the number of "Fars") future and she had the ability to read.

Simultaneously across the parallel tapestries of time, Dajjal, Armilus, Gog, Magog, the creators of Farmville, Scott Hall, ED-209, Dan Hill, Cthulu, Rick Astley, Mecha Shiva, The Cult of Skarro, Screech and Dracula all stood in their respective parts of the world and looked toward a central point on the globe... somewhere dark, stormy... with a malevolent evil swirling about it like a packet of Truvia racing the Half-and-Half down the winding spiral of depressor-stirred coffee... coffee of DESTINY!

None of the horrors who took note of that coffee-flavored tear in the destiny of... destiny truly understood what they sensed... no one except Flynn truly knew... although, strangely, some complete pratt in Suffolk County named Dick Reams, an ineffectual middle-management suck-up working for a toilet plunger manufacturer, looked up at about the same time and blurted out a shockingly half-way accurate prediction of what was forthcoming, but seeing as how he got as many details wrong in his revelation as he had rejections from both prospective dates and editors of Sci-Fi anthologies, the assertion that Flynn and ONLY Flynn knew what was coming remained safe and sound on its dangling ornament, adorning the continuity of universal fact.

The trembling tachyon tremors of non-temporary temporal time stretched, to Flynn's horror, to yet another Dinner Theatre... but it was not Kneumsi's original Dusty Death Playhouse... nor was it the dread Rehobeth Hall, nor was it the terrifying Salvation Alley, nor even the Ovaltine Odeon from last year. The inner-lit sign out front, adorned with a Coca-Cola symbol on each side, read (in a most un-ironic font) "The Major Kira Nerys Memorial Dinner Theatre", while the sliding-letter marquee beneath it proudly declared (in a slightly less un-ironic font) "Paintball also available out back every day except Taco Tuesday! Reserve now, space is really filling up fast!" That last part... was a vicious, bleedin'-ass lie!

Aside from that sign, the rest of the building's front looked like a dump. And it was. Actually, the sign didn't do Jack Q. Shit to help things and pretty much made things worse, considering the fact that "Mammaw's Last Chance Texaco", "Big Bud's Game Room" (which was over a pizza joint and was actually a porno shop), "Bubba Higgenbotham's Cucina" (the aforementioned pizza joint under the misleadingly named porno store) and even the town's police department all had identically designed signs (usually without the marquee). The town's Lesbian Bar sported a Pepsi sign.

From inside the firetrap doors a voice, not unlike that of an angry clown with a Helium addiction and a chest cold, boomed... as well as helium-addicted angry clowns can have booming voices... and echoed about the dingy walls of the theatre which was decorated much like a Texaco Restroom.

The voice said...

[Continued in the 2011 Thanksgiving Turkey!!!]