Going through my stuff, I was delighted to find a DVD produced by Chris Bringhurst a few years back called "Radioactive Gold." On it is a compilation of many of the movies we made in our pre-mission days. I was also delighted to watch "Murder Mansion," our first movie, filmed January 1st, 2003. The plot is so bad, the acting so terrible, the effects so middle-school, that any person who stumbles across it within the next five, 10, 20, or even 100 years will be constrained to declare, unequivocally, "It came from heaven itself."
The plot is this: four guys get invited to spend the weekend in the "Murder Hotel," (sounds enticing, doesn't it?) run by a "sinister butler" (played by a very acne-ridden and pale me). After some great and intelligent conversation (sure), they start getting killed off, one by one, starting with the sinister butler. Who is behind it all, they all wonder? And that's basically the jist of it. The end. I was also delighted to watch other movies, which are all pretty bad, but they get better and better as high school goes on. I know you probably don't even give a horse's patoot, and I don't even think anybody reads this, but "Murder Mansion" just infused so much joy into my soul that I had to spill it all out. God bless you my dear friends. Don't eat too much cabbage. It smells bad.
Oh yeah: "It's time to die, murderer!" is the last line of the movie, so eloquently spoken by Beau Stucki.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
I've felt inclined, as of late, to umm...blog. Waste of time? Maybe. As writing random stuff, though, has always been a passion of mine, I think it'll be good to spill my thoughts out. These thoughts will most likely not involve you, blog reader, in any way, shape, or form, but let me extend to you a welcome to Fish Tacos of Death. You may also choose to call it "Tuesday Night Tacos of Death," which has more of a ring to it, and since Tuesday night was the night that I partook of the Fish Tacos of Death at Del Taco.