We all have one, lurking somewhere in the back of a rarely opened closet. Waiting patiently to be used, but not in the way you'd think. Your average vacuum cleaner has one thing, and one thing only on its mind. And that is, to the hear the sound of your floppy genitals struggling to maintain their structural integrity as they get sucked up through the nozzle connected to their primary sucking hose. Are you implying that the vacuum cleaner at centre of Over-sexed Rugsuckers from Mars is gay? When did I imply that?!? You said "floppy genitals," as supposed to non-floppy genitals. And, as everybody knows, floppy genitals are the type of genitals men carry around with them on a regular basis. I know the difference between floppy and non-floppy genitals, I'm not an idiot. Besides, did it ever occur to you that the film's principal vacuum cleaner could have been a cock-devouring female? Yeah, but the cleaned up, tuxedo-wearing derelict who sort of looks like Alejandro Jodorowsky said the vacuum cleaner was gay. In fact, you could say that the vacuum cleaner had recently come out of the closet. "Objection, your honour. The prosecution is attempting to perform stand up comedy" (an actual line from the movie). I don't know much about gay vacuum cleaners from outer space, but I do know they tend to shy away from pussy. For all we know, the gay vacuum cleaner was merely experimenting when he forcibly tried to suck the vaginal viscosity out of a Neiman Marcus-obsessed housewife and a wannabe rock star/former mail order bride with expertly sculptured legs. Did you ever think of that? You didn't? Well, you should have, as it's as plain as the fay way its rainbow-coloured power chord dangled two and fro from its plastic housing like a paisley-draped dandy fop.
Speaking of forcibly trying to suck stuff, I want to inhale, if it's all right with her, the contents of Jean Stewart's zebra-print pumps. And, no. I don't want to inhale them after only a few hours of casual wear. Uh-uh. I want to plant my face all up inside Jean Stewart's zebra-print pumps after a full day's worth of walking. Nothing would please me more. Well, that and a large corned beef on rye (don't skimp on the mustard).
"Just take off your shoes. Just take off your shoes. You've nothing left to lose. Just take off your shoes." ~ Tiga
Since everyone else is thinking it, I'll just go ahead ask: What the hell are you babbling about? Whatever do you mean? Oh, the shoe sniffing thing. Yeah, well, Over-sexed Rugsuckers from Mars is a lot of things: It's stupid, it's got a frightfully low budget, it's mildly satirical, it was made during the late 1980s, and it's funny in places. However, would you have guessed that this film is leading cause of shoe and foot fetishes in the United States, Canada, and probably El Salvador? No? Well, it is.
How do I know this? For starters, I just watched it (which gives me a distinct advantage over the people who haven't watched it). And secondly, I have a keen eye. It's true, my keen eye doesn't work like your average keen eye. But the manner in which it [my keen eye] is able to uncover a perverted agenda will blow your mind. You say your mind isn't susceptible to being blown, eh? (Much in the same way your on the cusp of being heterosexual husband isn't when he visits a bus station restroom for non-urinary expulsion purposes.) I was acutely aware of this film's pro-shoe and foot fetish agenda the instant Dr. Welling drops to the floor and begins to imbibe the unseen riches swirling around inside the left brown pump of a female colleague.
I don't mean to poop donkey dicks on your didactic gay pride parade, but even a blind monkey with a faux hawk could have figured out that writer-director Michael Paul Girard was promoting shoe and foot fetishism when he filmed that scene. Yeah, I guess you're right. Oh, well. At any rate, who would have thought a guy with a name like, "Michael Paul Girard" would end up being the brains behind a film called "Over-sexed Rugsuckers from Mars"? I don't know 'bout you, but something seems out of whack.
You think that's out of whack?!? Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet. Reminding me of the opening of Voyage of the Rock Aliens, except with 100% more anatomically correct claymation aliens, the visitors from another planet in Over-sexed Rugsuckers from Mars become "over-sexed" and "rugsuckers" for myriad reasons. Arriving on planet earth to see how much humans have evolved over the past ten million years, the first human they come across is Vernon Conelli (Dick Monda), a derelict sleeping outside near a pile of trash overlooking beautiful downtown Los Angeles.
Disgusted by what they see, the aliens decide to create human/vacuum hybrid, a vacusapien, if you will, so that humans will be more motivated to clean up after themselves. How do they [the aliens] go about mating a human being with a vacuum cleaner, you ask? Why, that's simple. Two of the aliens enter the dustbag attached to a vacuum (luckily, there's one over by that garbage can) and basically take control of it. Waking up in a drunken haze, Vernon takes a swig of gin (gin that has been spiked with alien piss) and proceeds to make out with the sentient vacuum cleaner. After gently caressing its handle, Vernon fingers the slight tear in its dustbag. When the foreplay is over, Vernon mounts the vacuum with a hobo-rific vigor, and penetrates its dustbag with his large, unnaturally jet black penis.
As Vernon's hobo thrusts are piercing the crisp morning air overlooking downtown Los Angeles, Tom Oxlitener (Billy Bob Rhoads) is in the bathroom of his Bel Air home watching his leggy neighbour across the street, Rena Dushay (Jean Stewart), shave her leggy legs in a leggy manner. Just as he's about to grab some to suntan lotion to ease the friction that is about to occur when the rapid motions of his hand meet the tender surfaces of his British cock, his wife Beverly (Lynne Guini), who, of course, was just vacuuming, starts knocking on the bathroom door. Telling Tom that the vacuum cleaner is broken, Beverly demands that he go out and buy her a new one, preferably at Nieman Marcus.
While Tom is messing with Rena's car (he's up to something), we get some great shots of Vernon and the alien possessed vacuum cleaner walking through the city; if you look closely, you'll notice a woman wearing heels with dark hose stops to look at Vernon and vacuum with bewildered amusement.
Ending up at some kind of welfare office, Vernon, who is forced to leave his vacuum outside, sits in the waiting area with fresh dollop of bird shit on his forehead. While he waits, Dr. Welling (Jeff Wilson) is begging Bertha (Darlanne Something), a woman who sits on the board supervisors, to give him a second chance to prove that he can improve the life one wretched individual. When Bertha finally agrees to give him a second chance, Dr. Welling drops to the floor, pulls off one of her shoes, and starts to rub it all over his face. Now, I don't want to say too much about Dr. Welling's reaction to being given a second chance. But let's just say, I nodded ever so slightly as he breathed in her foot-based bouquet.
Of course, out of all the lowlifes sitting in the waiting area, Dr. Welling is assigned to help a man who has just started dating a vacuum cleaner. While Vernon is telling Dr. Welling his sob story (before hitting rock bottom, he used to own a flower shop and drove a station wagon), a street hustler carrying a boombox offers to sell Tom (who's stopped at an intersection) a number of goods and services. Not wanting anything he's selling (watches, stereos, cars, toaster ovens, etc.), Tom remembers that Beverly wants a vacuum, so he casually asks if he has any vacuums for sale. And don't forget, Vernon left his vacuum outside the welfare office. So, you know what that means? The next image we see is Tom bringing Vernon's vacuum into the kitchen and presenting it to Beverly with much fanfare.
When Vernon discovers that his vacuum is missing, he cries out, "Dusty!" It would seem that Vernon, who has recently gotten a makeover thanks to Dr. Welling, has named his vacuum. As a newly cleaned up Vernon (shave, haircut, shower, tuxedo) searches the streets for Dusty, Beverly is wondering why Tom's British cock tastes like suntan lotion. After sucking up some Weeping Wanger (a type of herbal tea that acts as an aphrodisiac), Dusty, the alien vacuum cleaner, attacks Beverly in her kitchen.
Sad that his wife was raped and murdered by a vacuum cleaner, Tom goes over to Rena's for emotionally support. Unfortunately, Tom learns that Rena has a boyfriend, Charlie (Bill Monsour), a yoga-obsessed health nut, and ends up leaving. After being raped by the vacuum himself, Tom's arrested for his wife's murder. The Humphrey Bogart-esque Lt. Kane (Ralston Young) suspects a vacuum cleaner might have had something to do with Beverly's death (there were dust particles found in her pubic hair), but he's going to have a hard time convincing his superiors that he wants to put an APB out for a homicidal vacuum cleaner.
Hopped up on Weeping Wanger, Dusty heads across to street pay Rena Dushay a visit. Fully-fashioned black stockings, zebra-print pumps, and crimped hair fill the screen as Dusty lunges toward Rena in a menacing manner. As Rena is struggling to get away from Dusty, our eyeballs are bathed in a veritable cornucopia of perversion-friendly images. Do you like hot chicks in fully-fashioned stockings? This scene has got you covered. How 'bout stocking-covered feet? If that's the case, you're in for a treat, too. Are you more of a one shoe on, one shoe off kind of guy? Don't worry, Monsieur Girard hasn't forgotten about you.
Do zebra-print pumps turn your crank? Grab a seat, you're about to spank it. Don't like being told what to do? Stand, sit, I don't give a shit. Either way, these zebra-print pumps will give your clit fits.
Do you like to watch lingerie clad women sexually assaulted by vacuum cleaners? You do? Then my next question has be: What's wrong with you? No, seriously, if you do, Over-sexed Rugsuckers from Mars is here to provide you with the visual stimulation you need in order for you to do that nasty thing you do three times a week. Hell, if you like to watch Humphrey Bogart impersonators and guys who sort of looks like Alejandro Jodorowsky chase one another using shopping carts, this film is dementia from heaven.
Will Vernon and Dusty ever be reunited? (Their love is a powerful allegory against the ills of materialism.) How many blow jobs will Rena have to perform on her boss Mr. Lipschitz before he agrees to take on Tom's case? (I'm guessing: fifteen.) Why can't Lebanon Vice be a real show? And is Lt. Kane really married to a sheep named Veronica? To find out the answers to these and many other baffling questions, make sure to watch this film from beginning to end. It's like Eating Raoul and Liquid Sky made sweet love to the Zapruder film, and out popped Over-Sexed Rugsuckers from Mars nine months later. Oh, and don't just watch it, masturbate to it. Your floppy and non-floppy genitals will thank you in the morning.