Back-Shelf Shamers

Okay, so we all have them. Whatever the reason maybe, we have a tiny corner of our DVD rack, that faces the wall and houses the unmentionables.This is the section of our DVD collection that we will never screen for our friends, family, or in some cases even fellow fans.I'm not exactly talking porn, though some may have elements. No, it's more of a multi-layered embarrassment or affection accompanied by embarrassment. Here's a short list of the DVD's I never watch with others, but I just can't bring myself to sell.

Visitor Q
Incest, necrophilia (complete with exploding anus), elder abuse, and sin of sins, boredom for the viewer.This is Miike's most out-there sleaze fest but it ain't fun or interesting. No Idea why I keep this one around.

Emmanuelle's Daughter: Queen of Sados
This one is rough. The soft-core sex scenes are verrrrry drawn out, save one which is the disturbingly authentic rape of the youngest looking 18 year old you are gonna see. Actually I have never made it all the way through this Greek trash fest. Were it not for it's loose inclusion in my Black Emmanuelle collection, I'd sell it off.

Joe D'amato's Porno Holocaust
Okay, I make the porn comment and start with this. Would you believe that my affinity for this mess has nothing to do with it's badly realized sex scenes? Probably not. Well, all I know is that once a year I take a trip to the funky little Caribbean island where the clay-faced Phallaustine stalks unsuspecting, ungroomed euro-pornlets.

The Great American Snuff film
What a pile...Can't watch it, can't sell it, though I have tried to. I think this one might not even be movable in a BigLots! $3 bin.

Au Pair Girls
Benny Hill era British sex romp. Never funny, titillating, or magnetic in anyway. I am ashamed to say I watch this thing at least twice a year.

A Virgin Among the Living Dead
This is by far my favorite back-shelf shamer. It is also my favorite Jess Franco film, which is a redundancy when using it in combination with back-shelf shamer. 'The Great Phallus' is both an ambiguous prop that someway torments our heroine and an evocative term suggesting a Peanuts-on-absinthe jazz Armageddon.

So, What skeleton-discs are you hiding?



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