A very long time ago, in the summer of 1994 I expect, I watched Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama. I rented it from Hastings, and I watched it with my roommates, and my girlfriend, and my girlfriend’s father, the latter of which you’ll realize was awkward if you’ve ever seen the movie yourself.

I believe that I knew about Sorority Babes in the Dance-A-Thon of Death before the internet was functionally searchable (and way before it lost that capability). But how did I know? Word of mouth: from whom? Usenet: I guess maybe, but I have never been a horror community guy, I suppose because I found my people somewhere else first. Hastings again: well that would make sense, except that I never saw the movie, which I definitely would have if it had been available. Because, like, how do I turn down a sequel to that aforementioned august masterpiece of film?

The most likely answer, I suppose, is that I’m wrong about how long I knew this second movie existed. Because, honestly, any of those other reasons would not have found me almost exactly 30 years later and only now learning that the two movies are entirely unrelated, except by naked opportunism[1]. Which is ironic, since this one had no nudity. (Nor did it have actors, or a script, except in the most literal of senses. It didn’t even have the charm of Bloody Muscle Body Builder in Hell to make up for having been shot on low quality video with a sufficiently washed out color palette that black and white would have looked a lot better.)

So, you know, I freely admit that it’s unreasonable of me to believe I have a better technical eye, to know when a scene has overstayed its welcome by multiple seconds, and a better ear for dialogue, to know that I would need a much better story reason to send my characters to “the abandoned college on the hill” than the payoff I received, in order to ever even consider using that line seriously, and a better eye for talent, when I’m not constraining myself to only actresses who’ll film nude scenes[2], to end up with at least one or two people who could have sold that wretched line in the first place. …although come to think of it, that particular actress may have been the best of the bunch, ie she may have actually sold it. I was saying, though, it’s unfair of me to believe all those things of myself when the last movie I made was a ten minute short adapting Fahrenheit 451, in junior high. But that said, I’m pretty sure it was better than this. (I wonder if the video cassette still exists for me to check against.)

Still, though, they mentioned Joe Bob Briggs in their “Thanks” section of the credits, and that has endeared them to me somewhat.

[1] That is to say, the box mentions a “from the creators of” line, and I flat out do not believe this is true. (Just like I don’t believe anything else it says besides the title.)
[2] That sounds like I’m denigrating the ability of actors who shoot nude scenes, but I’m not. I’m just saying when you have fewer options to choose from, especially if your talent pool is already restricted by “can commute to Kansas City”, you get what you pay for. And I’m especially saying that these people did not constrain themselves thusly, and have no excuse whatsoever.