Have utility belt, will travel

AKA Scourging through my cobwebbed mental filing system to do a self-referential archeology of Utility Belts

The OCD probably first kicked off with Data from the Goonies. Running around with some friends on BMX bikes in what seemed like eternal summers while thinking about how to properly gear up for that one adventure that could just be around the corner. Man.

Or was it the 60s Batman TV series that seemed to always be on KOFY TV 20.

Now those were heedy days - my "puffed-on" internal rewinds turn up fuzzy memories of foggy mornings, afternoon creek sneaky creeps avoiding older kids who want to beat you up and nights of of pre-cable TV tunings. Memories like when my friend and I both bought some old Radio Shack walki-talkis and tried to talk each other from 5 miles away. I was on a hill and he was below and we coordinated a contact time with us facing each other.

Didn't work.

sometimes dr.jean scott would come through the boob tube static

But a few years later it was the great Bob Burden's Flaming Carrot whose belt deconstructed my understanding of utility belts from just practical and cool to weird, wild and untamed surrealism.

 Somewhere along the way utility belts became just your EDC, the basics that leave you prepared more than just that govt tracking device you always carry (which you should be smart enough to leave behind if SHTF). As one unwittingly drifts into prepper culture you kinda have an idea of what you need to fuck stuff up however keeping FC's insights in mind, still have some fun with what you pack...IT COULD DAMN WELL SAVE YOUR LIFE.

But rather than opt for a manbag - a space pen, a gerber shard, various pocket knives to choose from, a fenix flashlight, a small lighter is about all you need. It all fits pretty easy onto a keychain and the rest into your pocket. If you are in a car, then pack some stuff to get you over a night and through a fence or two.

When it comes down to utility belts/EDC/gear, etc, there is nothing more helpful than knowing how to use your stuff. A few knots, how to start fire, how to make camp, how to snare, some E and E.

I guess it is still waiting for that adventure that could just be around the corner.

So here's hot chicks in utility belts... because... it is required by law.

Jess Franco & the B-Band - The Manacoa Experience

Out on CRIPPLED DICK Hot Wax Records just because. Listening in singles form avoids the commercials.

Knee Deep in "Dr. Wong's Virtual Hell" (1998)

Without Uncle Jess Franco, and also without shamefully sophomoric teenage utility belt creations, there would be no EUROTRASH UTILITY BELT. And now we have the troof put out there, we have to proclaim DR WONG'S VIRTUAL HELL is a DELIGHT of a late period Franco flic.

Filmed in a few seedy hotels in sunny Torremolinos and with comic book bubbles for some dialogue (echoing something of Kiss Me, Kill Me), Franco's own oddball musical scoring, weird color film dying, curvaceous natural women, occult musings and lots and lots of lesbo sex, Houston, we have a winner.

Franco is the cruel evil genius Dr. James Wong, who's daughter (played by the Franco stalwart Lina Romay) Tsai Ming and Loba (the female wolf seductively played by Analia Ivars) have hatched a sinister plan to kidnap the 18 year old daughter of some pop star for 1 million dollars (which later becomes 2 million for no reason).

Muy elegante! As for the kidnapped victim, somehow Dr.Wong is able to take over the father's hotel room TV to broadcast her dire situation. (There is also this god of harlots thing that appears to be made of bread.)

Franco has Howard Vernon play Johnny CAGLIOSTRO who through his visionary practices knows that his friend in the material world, Detective Nelly Smith (also played by Lina R.) will need his talismanic help to stop the machinations of Dr. Wong et al.

As foul as you can get, uncle frank. 

Like a nice sandwich with little bread and lots of meat, the actual Virtual Hell has virtually minimal set-up until the viewer gets absolutely bombarded by 47 straight minutes of psychedelic erotic film. Franco's musical backdrop reinforces a wild journey from burlesque dancing replete with a dive piano rag until a Numbers Station kicks in with dark feedback bouncing around your noggin. He throws a nice little blues jam alongside continuous - "very front of the mic"- orgasmic ladies. Well done, sir. Now we should talk about those VR goggles the onlookers are wearing...

 things are getting a little...diss..o...so..ciated

 And so it goes for what might make the movie overall seem as an excuse for Franco watch Romay and Ivars Get It On but the guy was like 100 years old when he made it, so mad props. And if you think all the licking, slurping and stand-up scissoring was indulgent, well, yes that's the point.

It also reminds me of the type of surreal fetish stuff one could pick up at Charles Gatewood's table at various underground cons. The kind of stuff that makes you wonder if you should be owning this, uhm, er, art. RIP, buddy.

Dr. Wong's Virtual Hell wasn't Franco's most famous work but the amount of winners he produced from Vampyros Lesbos (another crucial link in how this blog came to be) to Venus in Furs to She Killed in Ecstasy to Mansion of the Living Dead this piece of deviant cinema should be included among the greatest hits for its sheer fun. Often times, production levels leave something to be desired however movies that have an addled singular vision of non-hollywood perversion is what we approve of here on EUROTRASH UTILITY BELT. Thanks again, Jess.