LADY TERMINATOR aka NASTY HUNTER (1988/DVD/Mondo Macabro) Review

"I'm not a lady; I'm an anthropologist!"

Lady Terminator, I've been watching you, and I have a confession to make: I'm in love.

I'll always remember how you were when I first saw you: a brash, bra-less anthropology student, more concerned with aceing her thesis on some mythical sunken castle than heeding the ominous warnings of spooky librarians and salty, beer-swizzing catboat cap'ns. "Bewaaare of the South Sea Queen," they said, and maybe you should've, but you can't live in the past, hindsight is 20/20, and gosh, you have really cool boobs.

The coolest

So you've changed a little since then -- so what? I don't care that you're possessed by a homicidal Javanese spirit or that you've got an ancient penis-shredding eel hiding in your vergenius. You'll always be beautiful to me -- then, demure in your reading glasses, and now, expertly cutting down an entire army with an M-16. (Aim for their crotches, darling. They're men and they deserve it.)

Especially these guys

Only now that I've seen you can I say that I truly know what love is, and mine for you can never die, much in the same way you couldn't be killed by gunfire, surface-to-air missiles, or even a tank-driving stoner with a mullet as orange as it was bitchin'. You're the most bulletproof girl I've ever met, Lady Terminator, and I'm asking you to be my lady.

I mean, my anthropologist.