I Know We Are, We Are The Lucky Ones

There will be no vblog today, perhaps there will be one tomorrow. In the meantime, I would like to talk about luck.

I don’t really believe in luck. I believe in chance, surely, and I do allow for the possibility that the great card-dealer in the sky has stacked the deck. But I can’t tell for sure. Point is, things happen, and sometimes it seems chaotic and incomprehensible, but most times if you look hard enough you can find the clues and the causes for just about everything that happens from hurricanes to flat tires (I had a flat this week, but I don’t chalk it up to luck; instead I chalk it up to faith in the tire-fixing powers of my local W**-Mart).

But all that aside, I have been feeling pretty lucky this week. I feel like pieces of my future are coming together. I’m finding patterns and meaning in my thesis; I’m making progress on packing up my shit-hole; and I’m finding good news and responses for my overseas job search. Yesterday, in fact, I met with a professor I had in class last semester to see if he would give me a reference (and inscribe my copy of his memoirs). He did both, and he and his assistant offered some very good advice and some encouragement. It struck me that were it not for the vagaries of university scheduling, I would never have taken his class (it was a last-minute decision to take his class over one in the Communications department) and would probably not have given as much thought to working overseas as I have. Is that luck, or is it chance? I would hope that even if I had not taken his class I would still have found a goal that is as intriguing and worthwhile, and have the wherewithal to pursue it effectively.

It’s kind of like Buffy The Vampire Slayer. There was that episode in season three, “The Wish,” which explored the idea that Buffy never came to Sunnydale and thus the whole town went to hell. It’s actually one of my favorites, simply because they manage to kill the ENTIRE main cast, except for Giles and Oz, in the course of the episode. But is it really the case, that if you take out one event from our temporal Jenga© towers of chance and happenstance the whole thing fall apart? Or does the universe simply take a detour to reach the its destination? All fun and chaos theory notwithstanding, it’s a pretty unanswerable question, and more than a little moot.

I think it is worth mentioning, however, that Giles managed to undo the wish and set reality straight. So, there you go.

I'm Sick Wit Dis, Straight Gangsta Mack

You know you have food poisoning when you have dreams about needing to vomit. You never want your normal David Lynch-esque dream narrative to be interrupted by you, the protagonist, doubling over in pain and screaming at night shift from Taco Bell, who are inexplicably standing in your living room, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” That’s some bad news.

So nuts to Taco Bell. I knew something was up last night, and I should have just called bullshit on the whole deal. Instead I went to the drive through, ordered my stuff, and went home. Once I got home, I discovered that I had someone else’s order (a crispy taco and some Chalupas). So I go back and get in line behind a couple of cars who drive off before they get their order. Rats from a sinking, ship, kids. I pull up to the window, and start to hand the bag of crap back to them.

“You can keep that,” the woman inside tells me.

“I don’t want it,” I reply.

“We can’t take it back,” another woman informs me.

“You have to keep it,” the first pipes up.

“He doesn’t have to keep it, he could throw it away,” the other one retorts. Good fucking idea, it turns out.

“Okay,” I reply.

Another guy pushes between them and hands me a big plastic bag, not a Taco Bell bag, but the generic kind that says “THANK YOU” in red and white.

“We went ahead and gave you a bunch,” he informs me.

A bunch of what? Well, I find out soon enough. I get home, and I’m guessing that the people who drove off had ordered the new octagonal grilled thing and some type of grilled burrito, because they’ve ended up in the same bag as my order. Both are real appetizing if you’re not a vegan. Or particular at all about what you put into your mouth. I throw them, the taco and the Chalupas into the trash and eat my 7-2=5 Layer Burrito and drink my Dr. Pepper. I watch some Futurama and I go to bed. Two hours later I am puking up rice and beans.

Damn you, Taco Bell. Damn you to hell. You done me wrong for the last time.

Yeah, waking up in the middle of the night for the grossest kind of Mass (sit, kneel, sit, kneel, you get the idea...) is not a recipe (pun!) for Forgive and Forget. I still feel sick, and it pisses me off. I had shit (pun!) to do today, and now I’m afraid to get more than ten paces away from a toilet.

Damn you, Taco Bell. Damn you to hell.

Cut Your Hair And Get A Job

Everything’s Subjective, Nothing Lasts For Johnny O.

My life has been a lot like Vertigo for the last few days, and I don’t like it. Although if I had to choose a Hitchcock film for my life to parallel, there are few better choices (Frenzy, anyone?). I’ve been seeing someone around Norman who looks, at least to me, disturbingly similar to someone from my past. And I can see how such a thing would make a man a little bit crazy. And there’s been some discussion as to whether or not my interpretation of this mysterious stranger’s appearance is actually accurate. That is even more likely to make me crazy as I wonder if I’m Gaslighting myself, because my life can only mirror so many films at once before I go absolutely batshit zany and hole up in Roger Ebert’s bathroom with a prop gun from Moonwalker and a dog-eared copy of the 2001 Film Almanac (that was an ever-so-slight reference to the 6th Sense, in case you were wondering).

I am nothing if not masochistic, and a little bit sadistic as well, so it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that I am punishing myself for some transgression, real or imagined, or maybe that I feel guilty for not feeling guilty, or that I’m simply creating something to distract myself from working on my thesis and accomplishing some of my stupid-assed life-goals (look for me to start a seminar later this summer on how to Achieve Stupid-Assed Life-Goals the Seth Way. It involves a system of rewards and punishments... and of course dressing up like a rooster). Or it could just be coincidence.

All parenthetical references aside, I am in a heightened state of flux right now. I’m moving ever-forward on my thesis, having just yesterday begun actually analyzing the films, and over the weekend I gave some serious thought to the genre and began to organize my disorganized observations. I think I’ve found a real hole in film scholarship that might someday turn into a book. That probably means that I’ll finish this thing someday, and it will probably be sooner than later. That means that I’ll have to figure out something else to do. Like... a career, and stuff. And I think it’s much easier to focus on whether or not I’m seeing Carlotta Valdez and Kim Novak everywhere I turn than to focus on whether or not I want to be in this city/state/country in four months.

But in the meantime, I’m sitting at the T.E.A. Café drinking bubble tea and listening to the Starlight Mints on the house stereo. So you know, ghosts or not, things could definitely be worse.

I'm Left With A Bag In My Hand

One of my most cherished and recognizable accouterments, the green canvas Army rucksack I’ve carried since January of 1994, finally broke on Saturday. I carried that bag through 3.5 years of Catholic High school, one trip Puerto Rico, 4 years of undergraduate education, two trips to Washington D.C., one month in Paris, 2.5 years of MBA courses at OCU, six weeks in Elk City, one month in London, another quick stay in Paris and almost two more years in Norman as I pursue an MA in JMC (and yes, that's it in the still from The Metro Chase above... it got more screen time than some of the actors).

It was a tiny bit of canvas that finally gave out. The tiny bit of canvas held a small rectangular metal loop in place. The loop went through another, slightly larger loop and was pierced by a couple of dark, arrow-shaped bits of plastic that held the two halves of the shoulder strap together and kept it on my back for the last 12 years.

Looking at the strap, which was already adorned by large metal staples that attached the strap to the bag, I wasn’t sure if or how it could be repaired by somebody like me. I felt a little helpless, and cheated, and disappointed. I had dreams of carrying that bag through to the completion of my higher education and using it in lieu of a briefcase, like Bradley Whitford’s Joshua Liman character from the West Wing, in any professional situation in which I became involved. Eventually I hoped I would be able to pass it on to someone worthy, like a son or daughter. Plus, it’s pretty damned unique, and only two weeks ago caught the eye of an attractive woman. Alas.

In my grief I went to Target. As I walked through the parking lot and the store, I became more and more at peace with letting it go gracefully, and picking up a new bag. After some careful deliberations I bought the Redmond, a largish carryall from Eddie Bauer. I like it, but I hate that it has the brand name stitched all over place. I might have to enlist some help in removing it. Le sigh.

The whole experience has reminded me just how silly it is to invest myself emotionally in physical objects, and upon returning home from Target (and also Office Depot) I began the strangely exhilarating process of boxing up stuff that serves a purpose and throwing away shit that I don’t need. It’s nice to divest yourself occasionally, or else you end up drowning in your past.

Glub... Glub... Glub...

Six... Slowly...

Jenni tagged me yesterday with this bit of Internet madness called “Six”:

RULES: Each player of this game starts with "6 weird things/habits about yourself". People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things/habits as well as state this rule clearly. At the end you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" and tell them to read your blog.

Okay. Although considering the things I do reveal about myself normally... those among you with faint hearts might want to browse away. Just kidding. Let’s go.

6. I hate odd numbers almost as much as I love Pandas. And I’m a guy who loves some Pandas.

5. My grandmother said I must have lived a past life as a child during the Great Depression because I regularly find coins and other semi-valuable crap on the ground.

4. I am horrible about leaving my contact lenses in for weeks at a time.

3. If I download a song or video file, I feel compelled to keep it, no matter how much it sucks. I just can’t throw them away (I’m looking at you, Tom Waits).

2. I will leave junk mail in my mailbox for days at a time in order to show the mail man my displeasure.

1. I died a little bit when Ben Folds Five broke up, and I haven’t fully recovered.

Now for the digital grab-ass portion of the post. I’m tagging Mr. Body Massage Machine, Anthony, Jenel, Suzanne, Kam, and Michelle.

Despite All My Rage, I Am Still Just A Rat In A Cage

Grrrr. Enjoy my angry videoblog. Tremble at my terrible, terrible rage.

Have a good weekend!

Every Single One’s Got A Story To Tell

Borders is a wonderful place. I’ve been to three different Borders stores on two different continents and I always enjoy myself. I especially like the cafes. I very rarely see people I know, so all the strangers around me give my mind the chance to wander. I get to wondering about who they are, what they’re working on, and why they’re here.

Taking a bite from the metaphorical Madeline, I went on a bit of a mental walkabout this evening at the cafe. There were a couple of women sitting here in the cafe, working together an HP laptop (honestly, who does that?!). I assumed they were students due to their age and the fact that one of them had taken off her flip-flops at the table. I couldn’t tell what they were doing until one of them picked up her cell phone and called someone to check on specific punishments for crimes in Oklahoma in order to prepare a motion in limine to keep mention of previous offenses barred from a trial. I don’t know if they’re real lawyers or Moot-Courtiers, but their discussions of the arguments they needed to make reminded me of my brother.

Hindsight is 20/20, and looking back on the last 27 years that I have known him, Jeb has been training himself to be a lawyer since he was a kid. Now, lawyering isn’t all about dressing up like James Spader and saying “I want the TRUTH!” It’s more about the details, persuasion, and knowing the rules. That’s totally Jeb. Anyone who has ever played a board game with him will attest to his near-fetishistic enthusiasm for understanding the rules and his svengali-esque ability to persuade the other players that his interpretation is correct.

Dave’s the same way. Well, not exactly. What I mean is that for as long as I’ve known him, Dave has been slowly turning himself into a bio-chem badass with an appetite for destruction... er, research.

People like that are very lucky, and I find their single-minded devotion to excelling at their particular endeavor to be both admirable and encouraging. I’m afraid that I would find myself to be quite vexing. Everything appeals to me. I have thoughts like, “sure, I’d love to be an entertainment agent,” or “sure, I’d love to be a Landman,” or “sure, I’d love to be a train conductor” (No shit. I was 19 at the time: sober, but very groggy).

I thought about that because I had a job interview today for a summer position that I think is temporary. It’s not my ideal career, but it would incorporate: my nonprofit management skills; my journalism training; and my background in film and video. No shit. Plus, my blood calls out to me to do this, as it would involve both historical preservation and organizing the world into orderly and accessible patterns. Plus, it’s in Oklahoma City and I think I’ll be moving back for the summer (after my lease expires). Yeah for synchronicity.

Oh God, She's Killing Me!

Add 16 ounce energy drinks to the list of things I love that will kill me.

I am quickly becoming an aficionado of NOS, Socko, Rockstar, and even Oklahoma City’s own entry into the market: Ol’ Glory. Ninety-nine cents for 16 ounces of Liberty-Lovin’ power, and it even has the Pledge of Allegiance printed on the back (with the late-added “under god” in all caps). I haven’t done too much research into the health “benefits” of these drinks, for much the same reason that I rarely check my bank balance, so I won’t go out on a limb and make some radical claim like “they’re embalming me!” or “Socko is made of PEOPLE!” Although, Red Bull does have a disquietingly familiar color. There are certain energy beverages that I just will not succumb to, however. Monster, AMP, and Vault come to mind. I also saw a neat little concoction yesterday that claimed to be caffeinated water. Caffeinated water. Take a moment to marvel at the simplicity.

Also, I love my thesis topic, but these films will kill me.

I don’t know if I’ve bored the Internet with my topic, or if I’ve been taking the Who-Cares?-Express door-to-door, but here it is: I’m looking at motorcycle films from the 1950’s & 1960’s as an example of how mainstream culture views subculture. I’m taking as a starting point the idea that the institutions of mass media are beneficiaries of mainstream culture and therefore the content they produce will reinforce the ideas of mainstream culture (i.e. The State) and denigrate ideas and behavior hostile to the continued dominance of said culture. There’s a bit more to it than that, but you get the idea. I’m reading through ethnographies of biker gangs from the time period and then analyzing a bunch of biker films from 1953 (The Wild One) through 1969 (Easy Rider). I’ve learned quite a bit about the culture, which is alternating parts Libertarian and Fascist, Straight-Edge and Boozehound, and I find it fascinating. But the movies... If you ever have the chance to watch these films (for a list, see the post from 04/01/06), just go ahead and run into a wall as hard as you can. It will make the films much more palatable by comparison.

Perhaps there is a by-product created by trying to reinterpret someone else’s culture that makes a film come off as exploitative, hokey, and laughable all at the same time. I’m not saying that the films are too far off in their representation of the culture of motorcycle gangs, but the flavor just isn’t quite right. Perhaps it shouldn’t be.

Change My Pitch Up

Sixty posts now on my various sites, and I’ve learned a few things. For instance, I’ve learned that iWeb absolutely sucks. It’s like a teacher who never stops talking to you like you're an idiot, even after you understand the subject better than he does. I might come back to this topic again later, but for now I’m just glad that I was able to easily and cheaply figure out how to do everything I wanted with biblebeltbabylon.com without having to use iWeb anymore.

You can also subscribe to the Bible Belt Babylon podcast now, and download it through iTunes. You can search through the podcasts or go to Advanced>Subscribe to Podcast and then type in http://feeds.feedburner.com/BibleBeltBabylon

Simple, right?

Enough new business. Since this is a post that is divisible by 20, I’ll do a rundown of the last 20 entries and the songs/artists they came from.
 
1/02/2006
Cause You Have To Believe “This Will Be My Year”
“This Will Be My Year” by Semisonic
 
1/12/2006
Will I Say, Will I Do Anything You Want?
“The Girl At Collins Ave” by The Leslies

1/30/2006
I’m Ashamed That It’s Come To This
“Coulter’s Snatch” by Hammell on Trial
 
2/07/2006
No One Ever Says A Word About So Much That Happens In The World
“Exodus Damage” by John Vanderslice
 
2/14/2006
We’re Changing Our Ways,Taking Different Roads; Then Love, Love Will Tear Us Apart Again.
“Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division
  
3/06/2006
And All That Noise And All That Sound
“Speed of Sound” by Coldplay
 
3/10/2006
I’ve Got Something To Put In You
“Gay Bar (Banned Version)” by Electric Six
 
3/11/2006
It’s Just Another Saturday
“May 16” by Lagwagon
 
3/17/2006
Remember What The Doormouse Said
“White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane
 
3/19/2006
I’ve Got Souvenirs But Yesterday Can’t Mean Too Much. Have We Missed An Opportunity?
“Souvenirs” by Architecture in Helsinki
 
3/21/2006
Waitin' For A Signal To Change
“Blue Flower” by Mazzy Star
 
3/21/2006
I Wish They Would Ask The Questions “Why?”
“Dead Is Dead” by Terry Lee Hale
 
3/25/2006
Mercy Is The Red Bird At The Back Door
“Mercy Is The Red Bird” by September 67
 
3/30/2006
It Ain’t No Use To Sit And Wonder Why
“Don’t Think Twice” by Bob Dylan
 
4/01/2006
Well, Oh Well. Let's Call It Quits.
“Everybody Needs An Editor” by Mates of State
 
4/03/2006
Nobody's Cool, Put Down Your Nose
“Nobody’s Cool” by The Arrogants

4/04/2006
We Love Success More When It's Done
“Woah!” by Palomar

4/06/2006
I Want To Show You How I Work, Work, Work.
“Sexy Results (MSTRKRFT Edition)” by Death From Above 1979

4/07/2006
Fire And Ash Is The Season's Yield
“Casual Match” by Suzanne Vega

4/08/2006
Change My Pitch Up
“Smack My Bitch Up” by Prodigy

Fire And Ash Is The Season's Yield

High winds + sirens from the fire station across the street + the subtle smell of burning brush = Springtime in Oklahoma.

I Want To Show You How I Work, Work, Work.

vblog040606.mov

Brand new video blog. Special thanks to the persistence of vision!

Comments:

This is my new nightly viewing, during my "special time" ...
Laura | Homepage | 04.06.06 - 11:44 pm | #

We Love Success More When It's Done

My mom called me on Saturday and depressed the hell out of me, which I thought was impossible to do right now. Not because I’m so damn happy, but rather because I’ve already done it to myself.

Lately I’ve been a bit down about my thesis, and how slow it’s going. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to finish in time, which worries me. The worry then becomes the focal point of my waking thoughts and causes me to lock up and watch DVDs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and eat TVP instead of working. The grim realization that I’ve then wasted that time watching BTVS and eating TVP, and that I now have even less time to finish my thesis, causes me to focus even more intently upon the time I don’t have and how I won’t finish and the spiral keeps spinning until I get vertigo and Jimmy Stewart has to drag me out of San Francisco Bay... Yikes.

So I was couch-bound on Saturday, not working, when Mom calls. She’s a smart lady and she knows me pretty well. She could tell that I was stressed about something, and figured out pretty quickly that it was my thesis. She then said “someday you’ll look back on this and think of it as your carefree, stress-free days.” What the fuck!? I love my Mom, but I kind of wish she hadn’t done that. She then went on to say that the thought of writing a thesis is what made her decide to take comprehensive exams for her M.A. Great. So, Mrs. I-Made-A-4.0-Through-Grad-School-While-Working-And-Raising-A-Family didn’t think she could do what I’m starting to think I can’t do, AND it’s only going to get worse. It made me wish I still drank (side note: turns out I can, but I’m still not).

But I got over it. I realized what she was saying. She wasn’t trying to scare me, or beat me down so much as telling me that this is nothing that I can’t do, and in the great scheme of things it isn’t even that bad. I think that’s what she meant. That’s what I took from it, at least. I’ve been working since then pretty steadily, and I’m excited about my topic (it seems to be a big hit with everyone else, too). I actually had to stop working on it in order to finish the inter-coder reliability stuff for my friend’s thesis (which is, I hope, done). I’ve got some brand new highlighters, a stack of articles, a couple bags of books, and a lot of caffeine (thank you, Sugar-Free NOS!). Yeah... It will be nice to have this all done, but I’m starting to think that the process itself is going to be both a hoot and a holler.

Tomorrow I will be learning about podcasting from an Apple representative, and on Wednesday I’ll be kickin’ it with Ambassador Perkins at his book launch. So, you know, the University life is in fact, pretty frickin’ sweet.

Comments:

I heart Haloscan

I'm glad your mom got some motivation going through you. She sounds like a VERY impressive woman. No wonder you're so intellectual
joy | Homepage | 04.05.06 - 3:10 am | #

Nobody's Cool, Put Down Your Nose

If you ever want to artificially jack up your internal sense of cool, go to a Renaissance Faire. Wait until you see a ruddy-faced chap in chainmail with a fake, padded sword and Coke-bottle glasses applying sunscreen and you’ll feel it. It’s a kind of hipster self-righteousness, except it’s for non-hipsters as well. After all, when the guy who has a Buffy the Vampire Slayer board game and likes jokes about bell hooks can poke fun at someone, we’ve got something special going on.

It’s a different experience for me, though. Now, on the surface, I exhibit few characteristics common to the “cool guy” (and those that I do share are unfortunately canceled out by my obsessive blogging and overuse of “air quotes”), and I would normally relish the opportunity to pump up my cool-o-meter, but in all good faith I cannot turn up my nose at the SCA kids (if you don’t know, ask a History major) nor mock the 125 lbs of terror that calls himself the “Black Knight” (more quotes for your enjoyment). Well, I could, but it would be a little hypocritical considering the hours of work that went into my participation in the Norman Medieval Fair from the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and ninety three.

I was in the Thieves Guild, founding member if you must know. I have no pictures to offer as proof, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Also, you can rest assured that no one would falsely claim membership in that rarefied fraternity. For four months I came to Norman (driven by my Dad, since I was but 13) so that I could spend all of Saturday morning and afternoon practicing accents, stage combat and characterizations. And then there was costuming... Ugh. It hurts me to think about it (but thanks to my masochistic tendencies I will gleefully relive it). It was a lot of work, and it took a lot of time. And like so much that I do, I profited very little from it in the fiscal sense. Okay, there was no profit in it. And it didn’t get me any action, if you know what I mean.

Of course, I never did get action of any sort by being cool. No one ever hired me or kissed me or helped me move a couch because I was so damn cool. I’m not saying that cool = worthless, nor am I stomping some sour grapes. I’m not sure what I’m saying, except that cool ain’t everything. There’s a lot to be said for treating people well and not being a total dick.

Comments:
I went to the Renaissance Fair out here when I was in the 8th grade because I was one of the 'good' students.

I was a scribe. My mom sewed me a costume to wear and everything. I wore it with the school, and wore it again when I went back with my family.

All while wearing my 23 hr. hard-as-hell plastic back brace (in 100 degree weather) for my scoliosis, and of course, my glasses.
joy | Homepage | 04.05.06 - 3:36 am | #

But it can be that 5% of being a dick that gets you every time...
Laura | Homepage | 04.06.06 - 11:41 pm | #

Well, Oh Well. Let's Call It Quits.

All hail the new and improved web site [EXTREMELY LATE EDIT: iWeb sucks real bad and I'm happy to be back to using blogger)! Seriously though, it was a HUGE amount of work to transfer all the old stuff to the new site. And I’m actually paying for the domain and the hosting. As such, I’m discontinuing the other three sites and will just be posting to biblebeltbabylon.com in the future. Hopefully this will be easier for everyone concerned. And you’ll notice (that’s presumptuous of me) that I’ve dutifully and painstakingly incorporated ALL the comments from xanga, myspace and blogspot. I don’t want to do that again (I’m so lame that I spent 3 hours of my Friday night doing that crap!)

What I didn’t do, but should have been doing, was preparing a paper for the AEJMC conference this August. Submissions are due by April 1, 23:59. I have a paper (Althusser and the mass media), but it’s not in the right format. All I have to do is change the citation style, paste it into a .doc file and send it off. I spent all day NOT doing that. In fact, I “remembered” that I had to do it no fewer than five times today. That means that I forgot about it no fewer than four times today. I’m not that old, people. I shouldn’t be forgetting shit like that. I can still remember how to say “suitcase” in Russian (Intro to Russian, Spring ‘98), but I can’t keep my damn head on straight long enough to... *ahem*

I frustrate myself sometimes [EXTREMELY LATE EDIT: iWeb always frustrates me].

Finally, at 9:45 tonight I got up off the couch, turned off “Amends” (and if you know what “Amends” is off the top of your head I salute you) and drove to Borders to work on this shit. I mainly finished before they closed, then relocated to Gourmet Vue on Campus Corner. Weird or not, it was worth it. I managed to finish editing/reformatting my paper and made a new friend. And I should be hearing back from AEJMC in about six weeks.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to work on my thesis, I guess. I don’t have anything better to do. Girl on A Motorcycle and Satan’s Sadists should be arriving tomorrow. Speaking of thesis crap, here’s a list of films I may or may not be using. Enjoy!

1. Wild One (1953)
2. Motorcycle Gang (1957)
3. Motor Psycho (1965)
4. Wild Angels (1966)
5. Born Losers (1967)
6. Devil's Angels (1967)
7. The Glory Stompers (1967)
8. Hell’s Angels On Wheels (1967)
9. Hell’s Bloody Devils (1967)
10. Crazy Baby (1968)
11. Girl on A Motorcycle (1968)
12. Mini-Skirt Mob (1968)
13. Savages from Hell a.k.a. Big Enough and Old Enough (1968)
14. She-Devils on Wheels (1968)
15. Cycle Savages (1969)
16. Easy Rider (1969)
17. Heaven ‘N Hell on Wheels: Satan’s Sadists (1969)
18. Hell’s Angels '69 (1969)
19. Hell’s Belles (1969)
20. Hellcats (1969)
21. Naked Angels (1969)
22. Rebel Rousers (1969)