JIM YOSHII PILE-UP

I just finished watching a movie called Octopus 2: River of Fear. Basically, this cinematic masterpiece involves a giant-fucking-mutant-octopus (GFMO) that sets up shop in the Hudson River, and starts killing random New Yorkers faster than you can say, “Taliban!” Of course there’s a young Coast Guard officer (or “aqua-piggy”) who’s trying to thwart the dastardly beast. Of course, he’s hellbent on revenge after seeing it devour his mentor/friend/possible gay lover/poor man’s Shooter McGavin. And, of course, there’s a busload of retarded kids singing innocent carols of doom, as they unwittingly ride into the clutches of the evil GFMO when it destroys the Holland Tunnel. No, there’s no explanation as to why the GFMO is a GFMO. That’s just how it is at the beginning of the movie. No, there are no bare-ass titties to keep your interest through the boring parts. No, nobody gets bitten in half and left with their top section sprawling helplessly ashore, as their intestines unravel from the gaping belly wound in the final moments of their agonizing, blood-soaked death. The special effects are special-ed. The dialogue is vomitous. But, as bad as it was, watching Octopus 2 was NOTHING compared to the exquisite torture of listening to The Jim Yoshii Pile-Up’s latest release, Homemade Drugs (Absolutely Kosher Records). Look, there’s sensitive, and then there’s the dipshits that even the nerds picked on in school. Everything from the typical sensitive-rocker guitar licks to the “Your love is like mustard and pickles on a sunny day” boo-hoo-crybaby vocals, this LP is just plain vaginal. I swear! Fucking Coldplay fans could beat the crap out of this band. Alright, enough of this. I need to get another beer from my limited edition Sports Illustrated NFL mini-fridge, and The Man Show just came on. Mahalo!