Looks utterly badass and wicked and sick and full of ownage and such, doesn't it? What more do you need? A busty Boris Vallejo-esque lady menaced by creatures right out of an Iron Maiden t-shirt, her vest thingy juuust barely covering her space nipples. And her gold hair is fanning out like a peacock's tail meant to bring male arousal to its very peak. PEAK!
Hells yeah.
But is this a scene in the actual movie? Noooooo. Instead of gold-haired, long-limbed, big-titted ladies seduced by low-rider scorpions, we get this:
I mean, who's interested in seeing Joanie without her Chachi? Or her tchotchkes??
And this:
Yes, I was very bored too. But, hey, Ray Walston!
The movie is about a crew of knuckleheads who wander around a studio backlot as they try hard to get killed by space monsters.
I was drifting into a pleasant drowse when suddenly one of the ladies started to make whoop with a huge space worm.
By her ecstatic groans and smiles, apparently the rape was not "legitimate," so no worries about aliens popping out of her magnificent chest.
Even when Freddy Kreuger showed up and fought with Ray Walston, I was still in deep thralldom to intergalactic boredom.
I think we can all agree the more creatively named GALAXY REVOLT would have made a much, much better movie. At least people got shot; in the face, with lasers! Sheesh*.
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* Avatar is still the worst movie of all time.
I'm not sure how you can continually call Avatar the worst movie of all time. I'll grant you that its Pocahontas story can suck the strength out of even the hardiest moviegoer. But Avatar is Shakespeare in comparison to Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. Hell, The Phantom Menace is Hamlet compared to it.
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