A Dingwopper of a Tale!
People regularly come up to me at horror conventions, movie screenings, coroner’s inquests, orgies – really, pretty much any place where people might typically come up to someone – and say, “Look, asshole, isn’t it time you did a column on Galaxy of Terror?” And each time, I patiently explain that while I’m as fond of Galaxy of Terror as any inveterate cheesehound might reasonably be, it’s already been covered several times by other writers in our beloved rag. In the wake of a recent discovery, however, I’ll henceforth respond instead by recommending Galaxy’s lesser yet still delightfully dipshit 1982 sibling Forbidden World, a.k.a. Mutant. Because even in the absence of pre-Elm Street Robert Englund, post-Happy Days Erin Moran and giant space worm rape, this…
