Coroner’s Corner – A Man With A Thousand Whoopins – Column

Coroner’s Corner

A Man With A Thousand Whoopins

by John Bikowski
Illustration by Eric Johnson

I just got back from another stellar Fangoria‘s Weekend of Horrors in the heart of New York City. The scariest part of the trip was handing good money over to the parking attendant who wasn’t even as bright as the dull glimmer in his moldy glass eye. After being grossly overcharged for watching our heap, my friends, my bro and I sauntered to the New Yorker Hotel (with an impromptu pitstop at a neighboring porn shop for good measure). We then cheezed our way into a strategic spot in the 5,000-person line of folks waiting to get into the sprawling dealer table sections. Here you could find anything from super-gory banned bootlegs to collectible Penthouse issues to Samurai Swords to house-sized posters to lost episodes of sweet-spandexed Lynda Carter in Wonder Woman. Cool stuff to be had fer sure. Here’s where I usually make some snide remark about how a mass of scantily-clad beauties hawk their naked pictures to young and old alike, but… where were the breasts?? The usual bevy of bimbosity was sorely missed by my horny entourage. The boys did however manage to descend upon the lone former Playmate from 1982, who was much older and drunker now than when her admittedly steamy photos were taken.

Also running throughout the day were guest speakers from various types of cult films. Richard O’Brien (the bald crazy guy from Rocky Horror Picture Show) was funny as hell when my friend Rob asked him to scream “They Don’t Like MEEEE!” at the top of his lungs. Dee Snider from Twisted Sister was also on hand to promote his new demented psycho flick Strangeland in which he plays a blood-crazed body piercer (the famed Captain Howdy). He was in his glory, posing for pictures, signing autographs and slinging out guitar picks. The most eagerly anticipated guest was none other than George Romero, the brilliant director of Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Day of the Dead (among other delights). I can still fondly remember watching Dawn of the Dead as a teenager with your humble editor in the cellar of his parents’ house. As the zombies ripped out handfuls of guts from some screaming hippie our jaws dropped and we turned to each other as if to say, “Holy Shit! I’ve never seen anything like that before!” And we hadn’t.

Speaking of the Hefflon-Cellar days, another fine feature we cherished was The Gates of Hell, which starred the man I would like to bestow an honorable mention to – John Morghen (AKA Giovanni Lombardo Radice). He gets the award for being the most punished human in filmdom. In Gates he plays Bob, the village idiot who gets caught toking pot with a pissed off redneck’s daughter. This understandably upset man pummels Bob and then grabs him by the melon and slams him onto a huge power drill setup. The giant bit is shown up close boring its chunky way into one temple and out the other as his screaming skull finally gives up the ghost.

John shows up again in the revenge flick House on the Edge of the Park. This time out he lights up the screen with his portrayal of Ricky, a retarded disco-dancing sidekick to the homicidal afro-having buttkicker David Hess. Here the dumb duo beat, rape and humiliate a bunch of yuppies being held captive at a party. Things get ugly quick and Ricky gets his balls crushed and then has a fatal straight-razor slashing from his groin up. All he can do is lay on the floor and bleed to death while dreaming of his next role in the critically unclaimed Make Them Die Slowly.

This film, supposedly banned in 48 countries (yeh, right), provides a new type of role for John. This time out he gets to have his dick lopped off and eaten by a cannibal. But don’t feel bad… he deserves it because he cuts off someone else’s dick earlier in the film. Besides that ultimate male pain, he also is prodded with spears and has his hand amputated for the hell of it by a machete blow. However, after all that punishment, he’s still raring to go. In order to finally finish the pest off, the cannibals lock him below a table with a hole for the top of his skull. This protruding brain pan is then sliced off, allowing the natives to have a buffet dinner with extra sauce.

Another primo role for John was as Brett, the gay dancer in Stage Fright. In this film, he talks with the gayest voice I have ever heard. While being gay, he is locked in a dance studio overnight with a bunch of other dancers and a psychotic mental institution escapee dressed as a giant owl. Early on in the action, Brett is abducted and dismissed as being dead. In reality, he was tied up in a dark room and left there gagged under an identical owl costume. When his friends stumble upon him they think he’s the killer and proceed to chop him up with axes and other nice things. Thanks buddies. Stage Fright is also noteworthy for having the gall to show a pregnant woman being ripped in half. The last John Morghen decimation I will discuss is a real sickie found in Cannibal Apocalypse. Here he plays Charlie Bukowski (no relation, unfortunately), the flesh-eating Viet Nam vet who gets cornered in the sewers. While looking at the camera Charlie is hit with a shotgun blast that rips out his entire intestinal system leaving a gargantuan hole for the camera to poke around in. We can see through him completely as his attacker runs up behind. Cool scene… cool guy.