This afternoon, the Winged Monkey and myself stumbled upon what has to be one of the worst movies I've ever seen: Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus. At first, I thought it was some Animal Planet virtual death match show. But no. This was an actual film. Supposedly made for the purpose of entertaining its audience.

And it was entertaining.

To begin with, it starred Deborah (formerly Debbie) Gibson. And she didn't sing. Or act, for that matter, because it was pretty painful to watch the once fresh-faced teen pop sensation try to pull off her role as a renegade marine biologist. (Which makes me giggle just typing that phrase.) Deborah watches helplessly as a glacier breaks apart releasing back into the ocean a prehistoric mega shark and giant octopus who had supposedly been frozen mid-fight ten million years ago.

Please remember that this is fiction, people. Therefore, the idea that the two creatures would have died after having been frozen for ten million years must be cast aside in favor of the theory that they would simply wake up really hungry and really pissed off.

This explains why the octopus immediately takes out an off-shore oil rig and the shark takes down...wait for it...an airplane. That's right. Apparently prehistoric mega sharks were able to jump 20,000 ft. out of the water, folks. No one is safe, I tell you. No one.

Something, of course, has to be done, so in steps the military, led by none other than Lorenzo Lamas. (Insert Falcon Crest flashback of your choice here.)

Even Lorenzo and his trademark ponytail are unable to stop the two monsters, who seem impervious to modern weaponry. The scientists, must therefore come up with a solution, or else, Lorenzo will go nuclear, wiping out ocean life as we know it.

Enter Capt. Sulu.

O.k., fine. It wasn't the actual Capt. Sulu. I have no idea who he really is, but he quite obviously adhered to the Star Trek method, favoring melodrama over, well, talent. After spending a stressful day pouring colored water from one beaker to another, side by side with Ms. Gibson, the two find themselves in love and in bed together where, in the afterglow of their harried copulation, they realize that pheromones are the key to catching the two deadly creatures.



I don't want to spoil the ending for anyone who hasn't seen this cinematic classic yet, but don't worry. Ms. Gibson and her man will live to make a sequel. Of that, I am relatively certain.

In the meantime, I will try to reclaim the 40 IQ points I lost in those 2 hours. Maybe then I'll be able to figure out why the SciFi Channel is suddenly the SyFy Channel. Perhaps that's why they have to play such mind-numbingly crappy movies. Maybe they're hoping to lull their audience into such a stupor they won't notice that the new network name is dumber than the lineup.