Thursday, June 12, 2014


"In a digital, cool world full of hectic pace, we bring warmth, relaxation and smooth grooves." - Chris and Curtis of Dancing Fantasy

This week I've been locked inside the TNUC lair, hypnotized by the sounds of Dancing Fantasy, a German duo who bring that salty and sunwashed sound of our coastal states to your ears. During the early 1990's the group released a string of incredible ambient synth/jazz records, the majority of them containing themes that focus on a certain time of day or particular setting.

Dancing Fantasy - California Girls d/l

Leave it to a bunch of Europeans who live some 5,000 miles from California to craft more accurate sounds than people who live here attempt to do. Jan Hammer, Tangerine Dream, Vangelis, Harold Faltermeyer...the list goes on. For decades these artists have demonstrated their ability to create music that captures the blissful feeling of being on vacation in places like Miami and Los Angeles...and even down various avenues of suburban, small town America. Their unique perspective of these destinations from such an outside view obviously has proven to be rewarding.

Dancing Fantasy - Midnight Blvd (New Age Version) d/l

Dancing Fantasy - California Grooves d/l

Tuesday, June 10, 2014


The birds are chirpin' and the sun is shining. Sunlight glimmers on the cool lake and a soft wind brushes through the maple trees. Canoes align the dock on a shoreline that stretches as far as the eye can see. Camp counselors prepare cabins and set up archery lanes. Dozens of excited youngsters anxiously wait for their buses to turn the corner and arrive at Camp Arawak. Last but certainly not least is the kitchen staff who prepare the daily slop to be serving tables at the mess hall, headed by a burly pedophile cook named Artie!

Please join me in giving a sweaty, butt-stained welcome to our special SUMMER CAMP EDITION of DEADBEAT-OF-THE-MONTH for June, Artie the cook.

[NOTE: DEADBEAT-OF-THE-MONTH is an ongoing saga giving thanks and praise to a chosen deadbeat character each month. To see the rest of em', go here]

This piggish wonder of the world was picked up on our deadbeat radar and comes to us of course from 1981's Sleepaway Camp. The first sign of Artie's mega-sleaziness happens the first moment he steps on screen. As the kids arrive at Camp Arawak, he's seen making a classic creep-pedo-stare as they run to their cabins, while muttering things like "Look at all that fresh young chicken. Where I come from, we call em' baldies."...

That's right, this is by far the furthest we've sunken into the depths of depravity for this ongoing feature thanks to this sexual predator lowlife.

Later that day he lures young Angela into the back food storage area and tells her he has something she's "gonna like real good", then proceeds to unbutton his belt. Angela's cousin and hero of the day Ricky suddenly bursts into the room and interrupts the almost-molestation. The kids run away and Artie heads back into the kitchen, flustered and heartbroken.

Pause! Notice how one of the boxes in the storage room has a label that discretely says TOPLESS and another that says TUBBY.

Several minutes later we see Artie cooking corn and standing on a stool over a massive pot of boiling water. Then, the camera pans to a revolting but important extreme-close-up of the dirty stained butt of his pants..

Suddenly a hand appears and begins to pull the step-stool out from below him. Without giving the entire scene away in the event that you still haven't seen Sleepaway Camp (!?), here's how our trusty head cook appears during his final moments..

Uncle T highly recommends you pay a revisit to this summer camp classic and pick up the newly restored Blu-Ray/DVD that Scream Factory released a couple weeks ago.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014


If you've ever spent an afternoon watching Stone Cold and then dreamt later that night about having dinner with The Boz, then you and Uncle TNUC have more in common than you probably imagined.

After winning this vintage Stone Cold collectable bandana on Ebay recently, I was curious to see if it was possible to get closer to the action. I wanted so badly to ride my steel horse around town and infiltrate the criminal underground, just like my hero Stone. It was like acid in my veins. Well, one night after an 89th viewing of my Stone Cold VHS, I dosed off during the end credits. When I woke, the tape had run several minutes past the credits when suddenly THIS COMMERCIAL APPEARED...

"Lets have a blast in LA" 

Anyone who knows me knows that there's nothing I'd rather spend money on than a good, wholesome 1-900 hotline. So I grabbed my touchtone phone and began to dial. I received this message on the other line: "The service you are attempting to use has become restricted or is unavailable. Please contact customer care for assistance." Someone beat me to it. Some lucky person right at this very moment is roaming the earth and relishing about their grand prize win and dinner with the action's most underrated hero. If any of you readers know the whereabouts of this fortunate son, please point him/her in TNUC's direction. We need to talk.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014


Today - May 20th 2014, marks the 30th anniversary of the day I had to evacuate my cargo plane filled with cocaine-filled faux bananas and was left stranded in the godforsaken jungles of Colombia.

Let me back it up for a moment. The cocaine-filled faux bananas were exactly what you're probably picturing. Actual bananas with the fruit removed, and densely packed blow inside of them. Everything was going to plan until a surprise pack of devil's dandruff-sniffing dogs were released from cargo and headed straight for my case of exotic narcotics. I had no other choice but to I grabbed my emergency Johnny Utah-licensed parachute pack, broke a window and leaped out.

I landed in a remote rainforest, with nothing but the clothes on my back and crocodile loafers on my feet. At first glance I thought this change of scenery might be beneficial to my lifestyle at the time. I would be on my own in the jungles of no man's land, far away from the hoards of henchmen that were constantly out for my blood. Plus, I had seen Blue Lagoon and Romancing the Stone enough times to figure out how to survive in the wilderness, or so I thought...

My positive outlook would soon be shot down as several days passed and I hadn't come across any food. I came to the realization that I may not see a slice of pizza for the rest of my life, so naturally depression set in pretty thick. I made several attempts at hunting and fishing, but my skills had weakened over the years from living in the big city. Even the chimpanzee I had made friends with named Markus eventually deserted me and stole the little clothes I had left. The fauna and flora of the jungle became my only source of nutrition. I ate berries in the morning and mushrooms in the evening. My nights turned into a swirl of hallucinations and feverish night terrors.

Now naked, starved and dehydrated, I laid my body down on a bed of wet palms and prepared to meet my reaper. Sometime during the evening my usual nightmarish paranoia subsided and I awoke with strange female voices echoing through the vast canopies of trees. The voices became louder, more coherent and I could even make out what appeared to be a melody. There was a rhythmic beat, but it wasn't tribal so I knew it wasn't primitive flesh-eaters coming to cannibalize on Uncle T's loins. I started to make out the words...the voices were repeating something about a "jungle man".

Suddenly appearing from the bundles of ferns were dozens of gorgeous, scantily-clad women. They wore loincloth bikinis made out of twine and coca leaves. Their hair was teased, feathered and ever-flowing. Their eyes like rubies and emeralds. As they stood before me, singing this jungle hymn, I could feel myself getting stronger. As each minute passed my body seemed to be growing healthier. It was as though these wild love tigresses were putting nutrients back into my system. I stood up and one of them passed me a custom-made loincloth with the letters T-N-U-C etched onto the butt. Then she handed me a spear, six coconuts and a large cheese pizza. She whispered softly in my ear and repeated, "you are the jungle man" and this is the song that followed:

Veronique - Jungle Man (Maxi Version) by Uncle TNUC

From that day forward I was king of all beasts. The leopards, toucans, chimps, geckos and pythons followed me around all day, showing me where to hunt boar and spear fish by the waterfalls. As for the phantom jungle babes that I have to thank for my survival, I met them on a nightly basis in the misty rainforest to listen to music and dance for a number of years, until I was captured by a National Geographic search party and taken back to Los Angeles against my will! All I have left for tangible evidence of my life in the jungles is the music, a few coca leaves and these photos...

Veronique - Jungle Man (Maxi Version) free d/l

**BONUS** Veronique - Guitar Man (Instrumental) free d/l

Monday, May 12, 2014


Any ladies out there feeling bored?...Unsatisfied?...Unappreciated?

What if a certain dashing prince in a turtleneck and part down the middle of his head could magically whisk you away to say, a covert mission in Paris, where you'd join him in a wild and dangerous adventure? Well good news for you because Simon has you covered. Only catch is, he's nothing more than a deadbeat used car salesman who lies to married women to get them to sleep with him! But you won't know that information for a while. Simon won't dare blow his cover until he at least gets you inside his trailer home for a little midnight hide-the-banana.

Please give a moist welcome to our Deadbeat-Of-The-Month for May!

"The 'Vette gets em wet!"

Just look at how full of life he is. Used cars by day, fake "CIA spy" by night. All for the sole purpose of getting in some lonely and gullible housewife's pants. Uncle T (always the optimist) has to admire the effort that this brave sleaze demonstrates on a day to day basis. While I don't condone the behavior, if Simon's used car lot is still up and running I can't think of anything I'd rather do than join him for a test-drive and listen to his incredible philosophies about how to lie to women and ruin marriages.

Of course Simon's plans of seducing Harry Tasker's wife don't go in his favor, as his final moments of being such an upbeat deadbeat are spent dangling off a bridge in his underpants.

"I've got a little's pathetic!"

[NOTE: DEADBEAT-OF-THE-MONTH is an ongoing saga giving thanks and praise to a chosen deadbeat character each month. To see the rest of em', go here]