From alt.sex.movies Mon Apr 24 11:22:26 1995
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.movies
From: [email protected] (Thomas Hand)
Organization: Anonymous contact service
Reply-To: [email protected]
Date: Tue, 17 May 1994 15:41:24 UTC
Subject: REVIEW: To Shave or Not To Shave
Status: RO
To Shave or Not To Shave - Pepper Productions
Jonathan Morgan Cory Cox
Montana Tina Tedeschi
Tony Solvano Corby Wells
Jake Williams Chris Collins
Cal Jammer
Got this on a lark as my SO sometimes likes to shave and thought she'd get
a kick out of it. As porn films go, this one is pretty lame. The acting
is the worst I have ever seen, and that's saying something! The sex is not
very hot either, but if you enjoy shaving then this might be worth a quick
look (as long as your VCRs got FF). We both got a kick out of it.
The plot centers around a south seas island where the dictator has decreed
that no woman may shave her pussy. Which of course means everyone is doing
it. There are 5 shaving scenes of varying quality. Some are amusing for
there ineptness, with the girl having to finish the job for her hapless
mate. But two are pretty good. The island barmaid shaves the female American
kareoke singer bare on the bar in a pretty hot scene ending in a really
nice cunt lick (the only erotic sex in the movie). The charter boat
captain is the only guy in the movie who knows his way around a Lady
Gillette and does a nice job of shaving all but a small triangle on some
island wench.
For you fans of the totally bald look, three of the five shavings take it
all off.
Not a great movie, but something for fun. (We both especially liked the
actor playing the dictator, who was supposed to be French, but whose accent
changed from bad French to an even worse German.) :)
Thom
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169 “I can arrange all that.” Such Apaches as had not gone back on the war-path returned to the States with the troops; but there were five months more of the outrages of Geronimo and his kind. Then in the summer of the year another man, more fortunate and better fitted to deal with it all, perhaps,—with the tangle of lies and deceptions, cross purposes and trickery,—succeeded where Crook had failed and had been relieved of a task that was beyond him. Geronimo was captured, and was hurried off to a Florida prison with his band, as far as they well could be from the reservation they had refused to accept. And with them were sent other Indians, who had been the friends and helpers of the government for years, and who had run great risks to help or to obtain peace. But the memory and gratitude of governments is become a proverb. The southwest settled down to enjoy its safety. The troops rested upon the laurels they had won, the superseded general went on with his work in another field far away to the north. The new general, the saviour of the land, was heaped[Pg 305] with honor and praise, and the path of civilization was laid clear. Parliament met on the 10th of January, 1765. The resentment of the Americans had reached the ears of the Ministry and the king, yet both continued determined to proceed. In the interviews which Franklin and the other agents had with the Ministers, Grenville begged them to point to any other tax that would be more agreeable to the colonists than the stamp-duty; but they without any real legal grounds drew the line between levying custom and imposing an inland tax. Grenville paid no attention to these representations. Fifty-five resolutions, prepared by a committee of ways and means, were laid by him on the table of the House of Commons at an early day of the Session, imposing on America nearly the same stamp-duties as were already in practical operation in England. These resolutions being adopted, were embodied in a bill; and when it was introduced to the House, it was received with an apathy which betrayed on all hands the profoundest ignorance of its importance. Burke, who was a spectator of the debates in both Houses, in a speech some years afterwards, stated that he never heard a more languid debate than that in the Commons. Only two or three persons spoke against the measure and that with great composure. There was but one division in the whole progress of the Bill, and the minority did not reach to more than thirty-nine or forty. In the Lords, he said, there was, to the best of his recollection, neither division nor debate! His cheek paled for an instant as the thought obtruded that the man might resist and he have to really shoot him. "Good, the old man's goin' to take the grub out to 'em himself," thought the Deacon with relief. "He'll be easy to manage. No need o' shootin' him." "Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em already." John Dodd, twenty-seven years old, master, part of the third generation, arranged his chair carefully so that it faced the door of the Commons Room, letting the light from the great window illumine the back of his head. He clasped his hands in his lap in a single, nervous gesture, never noticing that the light gave him a faint saintlike halo about his feathery hair. His companion took another chair, set it at right angles to Dodd's and gave it long and thoughtful consideration, as if the act of sitting down were something new and untried. "Besides," Norma said desperately, "they're only rumors—" "Oh, I've found a way of gitting shut of them rootses—thought of it while I wur working at the trees. I'm going to blast 'em out." During the next ten years the farm went forward by strides. Reuben bought seven more acres of Boarzell in '59, and fourteen in '60. He also bought a horse-rake, and threshed by machinery. He was now a topic in every public-house from Northiam to Rye. His success and the scant trouble he took to conciliate those about him had made him disliked. Unprosperous farmers[Pg 124] spoke windily of "spoiling his liddle game." Ditch and Ginner even suggested to Vennal that they should club together and buy thirty acres or so of the Moor themselves, just to spite him. However, money was too precious to throw away even on such an object, especially as everyone felt sure that Backfield would sooner or later "bust himself" in his dealings with Boarzell. "Let's go home," she said faintly—"it's getting late."