Skinema

Jamaican Me Horny

Seymorebutts.com

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Pureplaymedia.com

Dir: Seymore Butts

Rating: 7

As clever as I feel standing on my coffee table naked and videotaping myself practicing stand-up comedy after a bunch of coke and ten cups of coffee, I realize my wit is sophomoric each and every time I see a clever porn title such as this. Jamaican Me Horny. Say it a few times aloud. Genius, isn't it? They somehow found a way to incorporate their shooting location (Jamaica, stupid) into a dirty little pickup line.

Let me explain. "Jamaican" in this case isn't meant to be read as "I am Jamaican, and I am horny." If that were the intent, they would have used a comma between Jamaican and the word "me," changing the title to Jamaican, Me Horny. Had that been the name, I would have expected the film to have more of a black-Tarzan vibe, because if you are familiar with World History, you know that is how Tarzan spoke. Kind of makes you wonder if Tarzan was a Native American, since it is well documented that the Indians spoke in a similar manner, referring to themselves as Me. For example, I offer the famous line spoken by Chief Red Bull or that other guy while walking the Trail of Tears, "Me feet very owwy." But I digress. "Jamaican" as used in the title of this fantastic piece of American cinema is a play on words in much the same way that "Nacho Mama" is meant to make one believe that one had just heard the words "Not your mama." In this case, "Jamaican" should be interpreted as "You're making," so the title actually becomes You're Making Me Horny. Do you see how that works? Like I said earlier: absolutely brilliant. And it makes me steam with jealousy. I don't think in a hundred million thousand hours locked away in my office (my bedroom closet) could I have produced such a comedic gem. It makes me think my entire life is a waste and I should grab a length of rope and hang myself. But I don't know how to tie a knot. You should see me try and tie a necktie. Embarrassing. Also embarrassing is the fact that the mere sight of snakes on television makes me shield my eyes. And cry. I hate snakes. Don't tell anyone. Imagine if I had to tie a necktie that was actually a live snake? That's some trippy shit right there. I'd probably lose my mind and die. I have another secret I wanted to share: I didn't watch this movie. I thought the girl on the cover was ugly and I couldn't get past the title. My life's work, no matter what I do, even if I find a cure for The AIDS, will fall short of the splendor of the phrase "Jamaican Me Horny."

New Love

Vivid.com

Dir: David Stanley

Rating: 8

Making out is the new finger-banging, I've decided. Remember how when The AIDS got all big and everyone was so scared to pork or kiss for fear of contracting the lethal cooties that a non-verbal agreement was issued between men and women to only allow finger-banging and handjobs until a doctor could figure out what the fuck was up? Truth is, people are sick of finger-banging (not me––as you know, my girl doesn't let me touch her innards with my digits because I bite my nails and she says they cut her). Since the world has figured out that you can't catch The AIDS from kissing (that's still true, isn't it?), I think we should make up for lost time. I propose all-out, unrelenting, unsolicited spit-swapping. From this day forth, if you see someone yawning on the train platform, run over there and drill your tongue down their throat like you're 13 again and their parents aren't due home for hours. And if they resist, push their prude ass in front of a train. Fuck them. A new age of love is upon us and there's no room for puritans. I want to see gangsters pulling the hair of businesswomen in walking shoes to get them to submit to this new passion. I want computer geeks to climb up the legs of freakishly tall Amazon Asian bitches to probe their mouths. I see Jews yanking Arab turbans from behind to spin them into their waiting arms. Black, white, blue, yellow, green, makes no difference—all shall submit to this new lust. I have a vision of a new world based on love, and the only way to make people accept our love is by force. In some ways I'm like a white, modern-day Martin Luther King Jr., just without the morals and shit. How about you put this magazine down and get to the nearest bar and grab the first broad you see and let her know how deep your love is. And if she has a boyfriend and he just so happens to be standing next to her and wants to kick your ass, then you put your fists up and start swinging, and don't you stop swinging until one of you is face down in the gutter laughing. What's that old saying? Anything worth an ounce of piss is worth fighting for? Some shit like that. Doesn't matter. Point is, isn't the bright future I'm suggesting worth an ounce of piss to you? Well, fuck. Get out there, seize someone's jaw with all you got, pull them close, and take it.

CHRIS NIERATKO