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Next up, two early career, sparsely credited oddities from Alex DeRenzy.

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First we have 1972’s Little Sisters, featuring hippie chicks Clair Dia and Kandi Johnson.  They live out in a wood paneled circus caravan style trailer home in the woods with their (uncredited) mother.

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There’s a conclave of weirdie beardie hippies out there, getting it on by a makeshift fire, and the mother shares a bite with a repulsive porcine earth mother and her guy (sickeningly, he actually shows them getting it on!) before the members of Lynrd Skynrd show up to kidnap the girls (hilariously leaving a note stuck to the caravan door by knife that reads “fuck you mom, sincerely, the dykes” (!))

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As the hippies have their way with the girls (one of whom is clearly laughing on camera) to the beat of Santana’s “soul sacrifice”, mom runs into a trio of drag queens on her way to…no kidding here…”the dykes”, a group of lesbians who hang around poolside squirting each other with water guns.  They leave her to the tender mercies of one of their own before heading out after the hippies in “revenge”.

the cast of Wigstock, two decades early.

the cast of Wigstock, two decades early.

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Mom then winds up with a group of eyeshadow sporting monks who paint members’ willies green and hold faux-satanic rituals with maracas and party noisemakers before going all homoerotic on each other.  “The dykes” attack and beat up the hippies and kidnap our leads once again.

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Mom finally meets up with some guy who looks like Dickie Betts dressed as Robin Hood (seriously, this guy’s got hair down to his ass and a beard to match, despite being all of 4’8″) and our heroes head to the women’s pool hangout and beat them up to a Muzak rendition of “you’ve got a friend”.

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The drag queens, hippies and some woman dressed as a nun arrive and hand out gladiolas while Robin Hood gives a flat, cue card reading speech about moral depravity that leads everyone into an off key rendition of “God bless America”.  The end.

Whew.  Somebody was tripping on something when they directed this masterpiece…

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Next, we take a trip back in time to the all time least appealing setting for an erotic film of any stripe: the filthy, poorly bathed old West, for the prior year’s Powder Burns.

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Well, it’s only sorta Old West, as despite all the endless shots of guys riding through the desert on horseback and a few gunfights, some blonde voman mit eine Cher-man ac-cent (“Lolita”, credited as “herself”) shows up in her convertible to dance on the local ‘saloon’ pool table.

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Then her entourage of “B-girls and topless dancers” show up and do the customers before one final gunfight.  The girls pilfer the corpses for their hats while a faux-Johnny Cash song plays.

Absolutely unwatchable.

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Look, if you’re going to get this one, you’re either a diehard DeRenzy fan or intrigued by the tripping hippie inanity of Little Sisters…it sure as hell ain’t gonna be for the stinker of a co-feature.

Your call.

This handsome Rick Dean meets Arlo Guthrie wannabe awaits your decision.

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