Red Light District

Rating: ONE & A HALF "Dean Martin Would NOT Put Up With This Shit" BUSTED NUTS


Jesus on a pogo stick.

Where do I start?

I guess by stating the obvious: What a fucking mess.

Let me sum up the first two scenes for you, sport. First scene: Boring generic fucking, ending with a cumshot on the chops of this young cunt who recoils like she's being spattered with hot grease out of the fryer at the burger joint she works in.

Second scene: professional MySpace whore ALEXA LYNN. That alone should send you lads RACING to the fast forward button. Cranked out redhead with a freshly shaved cooch that looks like the bad side of a newly sodded yard.

"SO BUTCHER BOB DOESN'T WANT TO FUCK ME. SO WHAT?" ALEXA LYNN DODGES ANOTHER BULLET.

Evidently, in the grand scheme of things...and in all things Mexican..."teen" has now come to include women in their early 30s, evidenced by COURTNEY SIMPSON. Not that I have a problem with 30-year old whores, but I'm looking out for YOU, my devoted readers. When you go to rent a movie full of teen cum whores, I know how off-putting a relative senior citizen can be. It can even make you think of your aunt. You know the one. The Slut-Aunt. Don't be ashamed, we all have one. You...in the kangol hat...I think I KNOW your Slut-Aunt.

Tell her I left my shoes under her bed.

Yeah...I watched the rest of the flick. Why? Fuck all...I'm not really sure except for the fact that I believe that porn requires a commitment. A commitment to a job well done. Or a job well...done.

And on to the burning question in your minds. Why, Butcher Bob, WHY Dean Martin? Christ. Have you NO sense of history? If it weren't for men like Dean Martin...there'd BE no SkullGame. There'd be no teen cum squad. Not volume one, two or even fucking three. Do yourself a favor. Research. Learn. Live the dream set out by Deano.

The flick's generic. Filled with mall-whores. Not a goddamn one caught my jaded eye. Who's fault is that, you may ask? I'll tell you who's fault. Manuel Ferrara's...that's who.

Goddamn him. — BUTCHER BOB

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