Susan Sarandon Has The Best Rack In Hollywood: The Rocky Horror Review.

There comes a time in every man, woman, and other's life - generally, this time takes place from later in middle school through your high school years - where a choice must be made. Simply put: Are you or are you not going to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show?

One of them, how you call it, Cult Movies, Rocky Horror will pretty much make or break you as a man. Either you watch it and say "I Don't Get It" and never speak of this off-putting travesty ever ever again; or you watch it and say "I Don't Get It" and proceed to buy numerous feather boas and lipsticks of red and go about memorizing every line from

Michael Rennie was ill the day the earth stood still


I want to go to the late night double feature picture show

Now, if you're like me, you've heard of Rocky Horror from afar, maybe even seen a scene or two on VH1 from time to time. You know it's got Tim Curry in drag and Susan Sarandon in a bra and people still go out to see it at midnight showings, dressed in character and calling out the lines toward the screen. But, if you're like me, then you haven't actually SEEN Rocky Horror until tonight, thereby rendering it a kitschy piece of must-see musical lore, but nothing more.

However, if you were fortunate to get in on the ground floor, during your impressionable teenage years where most high schoolers are barely aware of the movies being released around them, let alone those classics from the mid 70s, then you have a distinct advantage over the rest of us slobs. It's like being in a secret society where you can pass around Inside Jokes like bongs and mock everyone who's "Too Cool."

Admittedly, I would have shunned Rocky Horror in my high school years, even if I WAS presented the opportunity. I was still clinging to this narrow-minded belief that at least TRYING to be cool - a relative term left defined by those who truly DON'T deserve to hold the mantle - is better than completely submitting to your utter Geekdom. Had I simply allowed myself to HIT that rock bottom I've resisted all my years, I probably would've had a better go-around in this thing called life.

See, once you're able to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show a few dozen times, once you're able to wear women's clothing in public amidst like-attired individuals with one singular goal in mind, you'll see the wasted time in the toil of attempting the attention of Cool.

It's called Sexual Freedom. And be it Band Camp, Brothel, Burlesque, or good old-fashioned man-on-woman-on-man-dressed-as-woman pooltime orgy, you've got to get yours somewhere before you start getting the goods.

Because that's what it's all about. Sure there's little plot, no character development, and people breaking out into song for no reason. Rocky Horror isn't about any of that! It's about awakening those innermost feelings of desire: sex, murder, transgender bonding/bondage, and most importantly, staring at Susan Sarandon's tits for 90 minutes.

If that isn't everything a growing boy needs and more, I don't know what is.