Tonight I watched the National Lampoon documentary on Netflix called “Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead” but I don’t really have anything to say about the movie itself.  I suppose it was interesting and I guess I’m glad I watched it but I don’t think any of it will stick with me in any significant way, which is a shame.  I actually thought it ended right when it was getting the the best part, right when I wanted to know more.  The doc hit all the necessary milestones, the origins, the players, the rise and fall, but what I was really interested in was not how they became the brilliant minds behind Animal House but instead how this once proud comedy institution devolved into the hacks that gave us RoboDoc. 

 

You may be unfamiliar with that one.  I haven’t actually seen it, but judging by the movie poster, it’s about some busty robot doctor who engages in 90 minutes of sex-centric puns, tired masturbation jokes and a constant threat of nudity that never satisfyingly occurs.  This film (lol, film) boasts a star studded cast of a depressingly old Bud Bundy, Robin Thicke’s dad and that guy who made the sound effects from Police Academy.  

Anyways, this is already more words than I, or anyone else, ever intended to write about Robodoc.  I’ve had enough of the origin stories and how this or that household name came out of some before its time, game changing group of comedy writers.  I want, no I NEED to know how the once ringing endorsement of ‘National Lampoon Presents’ could go from actually meaning something to being synonymous with some bullshit straight to video after midnight shame purchase for brain damaged preteens.

Oh well, I guess I just wasn’t meant to be happy.

 

 

 

 

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