Jess Franco’s 1968 Necronomicon – Geträumte Sünden, or Succubus for those of us who don’t speak German, was apparently inspired by Franco reading a short story in the Necromonicon in the late 1960s. It would be interesting to see what exactly Franco read since there isn’t a Necronomicon, only phony versions of it. No matter what he read, it must have been far, far out. It is best not to watch this movie expecting a coherent narrative.

“What do these objects make you think of?”

This was what the piano player was using for sheet music. I said this movie was far out.

She had enough of his intellectual games.

Even in Germany, we relax with the taste of J&B.

At this point, we all know what sugar cubes equal.

There is a lot of weird material going down in this scene.

We get it, you are cute.

Far, far out.

This movie was not that good. There, I said it. L’assassino ha riservato nove poltrone (1974) may have had nine seats reserved but not much else. But I can say I watched it, so there.

Nice crocheted number.

She needs to work on her nails.

This guy does have an all velvet suit.

He’s just an idiot drugged up to the eyeballs

No, not what a dwarf with a dexterity of 5 might be called, but the 1974 movie Spasmo. This certainly was not one of my favorite giallo/giallo-like/giallo-esque romps so far; there wasn’t enough killing, nudity, or inexplicable camera zooming for my taste, but hey, I won’t make claims for everyone. There are a lot of mannequins however.

Some might call this cluttered; I call it tasteful.

I have had enough of this wasteland we call modern life.

I blame the wallpaper for all the mental illness.

Quickly, drink this.

What this movie really need was more pinball action.

Note my man in the red trousers.

“Why yes, this is a good tie.”

While doing my researching for the pulp science book, I came upon this little number by Henry Kuttner. It is the opening to “The Citadel of Darkness,” and any similarity to the opening of Howard’s “Phoenix on the Sword” is strictly intentional.

Every Perverse Osmosis song is stolen from DRI, Zeke, or Municipal Waste, so I am not one to point fingers.

I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale (1973) is one proto-slasher that I never watched until the last couple days, and boy, I have been missing out. Less than 10 seconds into the movie, there is pretty much full-frontal nakedness and Torso doesn’t let up from there. Just about every male leers, gawks, or ogles the women; the women, in return, shove burning joints into men’s bare chests [don’t get me wrong; the guys deserve it]. The murderer also saws the arms and legs off his victims.

Keep in mind this is 1973.

In a time when lectures ruled the world.

Don’t worry: this guy isn’t really going to Columbia.

Now time for a jazz cigarette.

When hiding out in a villa, there is nothing like some J&B.

Sure we might be murdered and sawed up, but we are elegant victims.

Oh J&B, you same-sex social lubricant, you.

Hates dolls, hates women, loves J&B.

One thing to remember: “I don’t care if you are queer or impotent, you pay the price anyway.”