I despise Wal-Mart with every fiber of my being.

The people who shop there, their screaming broodlings, the soul-less punchers of the cash register buttons...even the octogenarian greeters get on my nerves a little, every now and then. But around these parts, the bastard spawn of Sam Walton have put together a store that saves me money on the good blank video tapes. And loathe though I am to admit it...we save a lot of dough when we shop there.

So I hide my contempt for the corporate rape, and away we go.

So away I went today, on a quick break from work, a man with a mission: Quick In, Quick Out, No Mucking About, (Yo Ho, Yo Ho, Yo Ho). Moving quickly to the back, I snatched my quarry: the blank videotapes with the cool write-over labels.

Once they were procured, I made for the express lane out of hell...when There They Were.

The $5.50 DVDs.

"Damn you, Wal-Mart!" I shouted to the heavens. So clever an adversary, putting a library right next to the escape hatch to distract me. Because as we all know, for every 30 copies of Bloodsport IV: The Bloody Bloodenning of Blood City...you inevitably find that elusive copy of something cool. Something like Plan 9 From Outer Space. Something that makes you happy to have stopped and looked. A quick check of the clock on my cell suggested I, indeed, had time to peruse.

Crap. More Crap. Legally Blonde 2 (recently saw the original for the first time, but that's not even remotely on my must own list). Further Crap. Crap en español. Even one piece of Crap that appeared to be auf Deutsch.

And there it was. Green letters on a black spine, done in a neon pond-scum font.

This: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068615/

I never knew this existed before this moment. How could my life possibly have been complete before now? 1972. Sam Elliot (who doesn't even rate top billing yet). The classic struggle of man vs. nature gets mystically amped up. Plus Joan van Ark...and Adam Roarke!

This seemed like a suitable project to dedicate a mere 87 minutes and $5.50 of my life towards experiencing. This shall be my finest B-viewing since I discovered MST3K. Popcorn will be consumed, Guinness will be poured...and quaffed, TV screen-hypnosis will be the order of the night...and The Beloved Wife will no doubt shake her head in private horror as she runs for the solace of the bedroom to watch Walker, Texas Ranger.

I shall, of course, deliver a full review once I've had the chance to participate in this great cosmic dance...