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'The Snow Creature'

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"Is it a beast or a man? Well, it is not human, if that is what you mean."

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By Julie D. Griffin

The Himalaya and a quest to study plant life heretofore unknown, a whole bunch of people found themselves on a mission to discover The Snow Creature. The mighty journey began where else, but at the helm of Los Angelos, CA. Before entering, "The world of rock and ice," one man named Dr. Frank Perish, Botanist engaged Peter Wells to serve as a photographer and one English speaking sheba to work as a translator. "On June fourteenth, we set out to strike at the mountain," which the great and mighty doctor also referred to as sanctified. But that was only at first glance. Watch (the film) to find out what happens as our story moves from a lovely and heavenly place to a rugged and satanic plateau and terrain. This frozen place where hell seems to reign alive and nothing you let go really goes away, and as the memories linger, the criminals are the ones you hope to perish.

"I'm no doctor," admits at least one honest man. The fear of a doctor who paid even more greater money to buy his medical grades operating here strikes fear even into the heart of the blonde big foot known heretofore as The Snow Creature, of whom the natives speak of and seem to inform the doctor of are speaking either Japanese or a clearly identifiable Native American language. He wants to chase a legend. No one has ever seen one, except of course only one sectre of the population: The listeners of Coast To Coast. The doctor feels haunted by his decision to make such a strange missionary journey, the biggest problem the lingering cold and the strong and frosty wind, a Michael Jackson chiller to the bone complete with illustrative film sonata music. But none of which warms the heart and defrosts the soul. Listening to old Jackson record albums helps some. But after the doctor declares mutiny, it is clear that no one cares anyway.

Only the natives to the place seem to understand the evil. The doctor takes a drink. "You'll need more than that," they clearly warn him. "We had no alternative but to turn around." And go back home. Remarks at least one wise member of the whole motley crew. In the meantime, a 1940's radio sound wind blares the dajeebers out of ears, nose and bones alike. Wait a minute? Do you hear something? It is just the ruddy wind boys. What is that? Well, that's my scotch. We can't worry about that now. I just hope they have not been monkeying with it. Wait a minute, again.

For those of you who with great and sundry scientific wonder, wonder why the white weather of a greater snow falls upon a brow already more exasperated with Frosty than with Santa Clause himself ~ Perhaps this black and white horror film meant to honor the birthday of Spanghooli. The plot thickens and the frozen men of the mountain come again. "Where's scotch?" As if no one knew they'd ask for only that, "Have yourself a nightcap," warns the doctor. "I'll be right back." "Thanks a lot, I think I will," warns his assistant. The case of scotch gives the doctor, according to him another brilliant idea. Perhaps calling upon the singsong of the other motley crew at this time is not such a bad idea after all. Perhaps they have the answer that will drown the loud sound of all of the noisy wind, something that will also motivate the stagnant body to movement, some kind of a dance that warms. The doctor hesitates. The natives pack to move on. They know something none of the others do. "No one mentioned the radio machine. It's dead." But at this point, everyone has seemed to warm themselves with so much scotch, no one seems to be able to figure out what language the natives are speaking. It sounds like Japanese. But more vivid to the senses, even one of the natives ceases to be able to fight the darkness, and that a pretty mean trick according to the doctor, and as the night hour screams that bring a sudden death here and a sudden death there, and the increase of large big foot prints. Nothing is falling into place. Who is at fault? Johnnie Depp? Brad Pitt? Angelina? At this point, no one seems to know. But whatever it is, it is dressed in white and rather furry. And even though a more vehement Japanese style music plays, the doctor finds a certain strength to continue to move on. All flunked S.A.T.s aside, he must earn the money to pay off the man who really took the pre-med test for him. After all, it is not every person who despite a certain and great insanity is as peaceful and gentle as a dove, but whose I.Q. by far exceeds that of every rock star who ever also entertained that sultry rehab. There is only one difference here. "You know you could be a very famous man." Some people who suffer from acute schizophrenia can still manage to manage major corporations. We plead the fifth, and the fear to name namely examples, as we just all want only to get along. And so the journey continues.

Let us not lose focus, as the focus is not Ford, but the film review at hand. And even the doctor, who also exasperated about hearing the new friend public service announcement and ready for some brand new media territory pulsed through the jungle. And after some equal diligence, The Snow Creature who the actual cause of the coldfront at large, the missionary crew find him and make plans to bring him from Japan back to the forefront of civilization. Excited, that at last someone, somewhere has some kind of solution to what has brought forth all of the cold, the men continue to consume mass amounts of scotch in an attempt to speak the fluent Japanese that forever ceases to happen. He, the doctor decides to herd the natives straight to the police. Kudasai, warns the official, apologizing to the doctor, who begs to keep the creature at the station. But Bombay calls, and the doctor overly asserts his desire that no one get near the creature. The 1950's film about an Art Bell endemic expedition to bring an albino type of snow creature back to California from the Arctic spheres renders as much group excitement to watch as the horror films of today.

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