Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965) A comedy of terror normally associated with Harold Pinter plays fuels the brilliant dialogue of Jack Moran’s screenplay in this Russ Meyer exploitation film that caters to America’s worst fears about female gangs. Go-Go girls on the loose from their Pussycat strip club in Van Nuys, California, cruise the desert where they murder a young man and kidnap his date. At a nearby gas station they learn about hidden cash in a disabled old man’s nearby ranch and decide to rob him and his hunk of a son, whom they call “The Vegetable” because of his mental slowness. Mayhem ensues. Tura Satana, a Japanese-American exotic dancer who, because gang-raped before ten years old, studied aikido and karate, takes the commanding butch role, in her own makeup, clothing, personal stunts, and language. “She and I made the movie,” Russ Meyer said.
In a failed state, tribes take control,
Allegiance by tattoo and martial arts.
Lesbian matriarchies rule
Lobotomized studs for spare parts.
‘The unmistakable smell of female” sweats
Like cacti in the Mojave desert.
Large breasts are bankable assets
For psycho killers who pervert.
Wheelchair vets age into letches,
Their military patriarchy castrated.
Bowie-knives from leather bitches
Carve new orders from the dictated.
Out for kicks, drag racing, drugs,
Girls gone wild rave, rave, rave.
The only dissention among these thugs
Is who is master and who is slave.
Those honeypots love menstrual blood
That bastes virginity’s bitter sting.
They crowd their newbie in her mud,
Flashing falsies against a g-string.
Burlesque’s a tease of bold bravura
Where hard and soft mark who’s male.
But life is nothing without Tura
When her karate chops prevail.
[Disposable Poem January 2, 2018]