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Movie Summary  Movie: The Gunslinger: Beverly Garland is the hottest sheriff in the West in this Roger Corman cow pie. She's the widow of a slain sheriff, and appoints herself to bring law and order and loveliness to a small western town fraught with corruption. Hunky dude hit man Cane Miro comes to town, hired to kill Beverly, but falls in love with her instead. Meanwhile, the saloon stays open well past curfew, a pesky little Jonathan Haze annoys everyone, the townspeople all end up dead, and Cane and Beverly shoot it out in the hills all the while discussing their relationship. — Mary Jo Pehl Host Segments  Prologue:  Tom has a balloon for a head, while Crow, Gypsy, and Joel play Kaboom!  Invention:  The Mad Scientists invent the Scanner Planner, the study guide to "scan" people's brains and make their heads explode. Putting a spin on the whiffle ball, the SOL create other whiffle products, like the whiffle hat and the whiffle glass.  Segment 2:  Servo, Joel, and Crow lay in caskets and talk about death and their funerals. Servo wants a snappy funeral, and Crow wants a beach funeral with a bonfire and a keg.  Segment 3:  Servo sends Joel a message regarding lunch via Pony Express (Gypsy and Crow). Gypsy spooks and throws Crow.  Segment 4:  Servo explains and demonstrates the use of quantum linear super position in the movie. He bilocates to prove a point.  Segment 5:  Joel, Servo, and Crow discuss the 1870's vs. 1970's, and Joel tells them how he rolled his charger a couple of times. Then there's the deep fried mail for everyone. Forrester successfully scans Frank's head off.  Stinger:  Beverly Garland, angry when she's beautiful. Reflections One of my darkest fears is that I'll one day make my own film, my story, my direction, my own crystalline vision of something so universal, it must needs be shared with the world on the silver screen. And I make the movie, and it turns out like Gunslinger, or any other Corman film—turgid, insipid, clichéd, confusing, every opportunity for artistic expression intentionally ignored. And the audiences will laugh where they should be shocked, and be shocked where they should laugh. Usually at this point I wake up, screaming at the top of my lungs, my body soaked in a thin layer of cold sweat, the sheets damp with salty perspiration, the gentle night mysterious with moonlight, a dog barking in the distance. Pale and gasping, I turn to my wife and snuggle close, softly crying myself back to sleep. Does this ever happen to you? — Kevin Murphy