A choice cheesy chunk of wonderfully rancid and wretched two-cent 70's grind-house garbage about a putrid Califonia passion pit that's beset by a shocking series of gruesome murders perpetuated by some mystery maniac. It's up to a couple of bumbling and portly homicide detectives played by ubiquitous B-movie bit player/screenwriter John Goff and fellow perennial schlock film regular Jake Barnes to catch the crazy kook before he kills again.<br /><br />Boy, does this alarmingly abominable and mind-numbingly moronic bilge strike out something stinky in every conceivable department: We've got uniformly awful acting, dire dialogue, flimsy plotting, no tension or suspense to speak of, poky pacing, ragged editing, ugly, eye-straining cinematography, wafer-thin characters, a horrendously redundant and annoying score, tacky gore, and flat-footed (non)direction by Stuart Segall, who also helmed such hard-core porn classics as "Teeny Buns" and "Insatiable" under the unlikely pseudonym of Godfrey Daniels(!). Still, there's a certain blatantly crummy, filthy and scroungy deep-seated rattiness and all-out unapologetic ineptitude to this thoroughly foul'n'fetid feature which makes it both strangely endearing and hugely enjoyable. The late, great, sorely missed George "Buck" Flower (who co-wrote the trashy script with Goff) has a hilarious cameo as a deranged machete-wielding lunatic who chases his real-life daughter Verkina around a mangy warehouse while repeatedly exclaiming, "I'm gonna cut all that poison out!" One of my all-time favorite so-horrible-it's-downright-happening sleazoid slasher flicks.