Written By Andy P.
www.MySpace.com/cocheezy123
www.MySpace.com/StreetPizzaComix

Troma Entertainment has been around for a long time . . . 35 years give or take . . .and during that time they’ve managed to piss off and enlighten a lot of people. Consider myself in the latter part of that sentence, because without Troma . . . I wouldn’t be where I am today.

The world is a very scary place, filled with demons and scavengers that want nothing more than to rape you of your artistic and intellectual properties . . . all the while you’re left with the shame of being fucked and violated while the K&Y Jelly laughs at you with utter glee. But every once and a great while someone or something comes along and reminds you that art is universal, and although it might hurt a little bit, it will make you stronger for having done the deed. That’s what Troma did for me . . .

I’ve always been a fan of Troma, for as long as I can remember. USA Networks use to play “Toxic Crusaders” before Clinton passed the bill, and every Saturday morning I would watch with wonder as Toxie, Nozone, and Major Disaster fought with all their might against Dr. Killemoff and his evil band of mutants from the planet Smogula. The cartoon was rough, crude and right up my alley, and didn’t look like anything I had ever seen before. Soon enough, USA began to play The Toxic Avenger 1-3 during the day, and being a sick kid who missed a lot of school, I began a kinship with the hideously deformed creature of super human size and strength, who was ugly on the outside but beautiful within. I had a condition called Bell’s palsy, where one side of your face becomes paralyzed and sags like a rag doll . . . I had to wear an eye-patch to school because my eye wouldn’t shut and I was constantly drooling because I couldn’t control the left side of my face. Looking back on it, that’s probably why I adored Toxie so much . . . because I looked just like him.

Sooner or later I began to realize that the films I was watching on television were heavily edited, and this was before I even knew what censorship was. Living in a rural community, there was nothing to do but rent videos, and soon I was scourging the local mom & pop shops looking for my hero. It took a while, but soon enough I found him in all of his glory, holding his patented mop on the video box in the horror section in this old house that had been renovated into a video store. I can still smell the stench of mothballs and wood staining . . . God Bless America.

I walked up to the counter with box in hand, and the woman laughed a hearty laugh. “You’re too young!” she bellowed.

I frowned, so I lied to my Dad about what it was, and he rented it for me.

After returning home, I rushed inside and popped the tape into our old VCR the size of a boom box, and the film started just like it did on TV. Hot sweat running down your face, muscles working over time . . .

The cussing and nudity didn’t faze me, until I got to the scene where the kid gets his head crushed . . . and soon after I ran out of the room and had to finish the film while peeking my head out behind the staircase, turning away every time something disgusting or gory happened. It was definitely official . . . I had been Tromatized.

“What the Fuck!” I thought to myself. Who were these Troma guys and what the fuck kind of movie did they make? Who was this Samuel Weil guy and what did he do to my beloved hero? This was too much for my 13 year old mind to take, and I began to question my ethics every time I thought about that kid’s head being crushing beneath the wheels of that car. Should I just accept what happened here and move on? No . . . I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t watch another Troma flick for 7 more years . . .

Hit fast forward on the remote and I’m 20 years old. My only accomplishments thus far being barely graduating high school, almost being arrested for graffiti, and defacing my school books with cartoons of monsters, graffiti symbols, and the occasional girl with big boobs being eaten by an alligator. I wanted to be a cartoonist or a filmmaker, but the rebellious side of me kept getting in the way of that, and soon I was so fucked up I didn’t know what to do.

Then it happened . . .

I was hovering over the releases at the local Blockbuster chain, getting sick to my stomach at all the bullshit that was staring back at me. The artwork on the boxes all looked the same, each one designed by some generic marketing gimmick that was supposed to entice you into renting, but it made me grow a limp one . . . I’ve always been able to see through advertising.

I was just about to leave when I looked down into the bargain bin and saw something I couldn’t believe . . . a copy of The Toxic Avenger Part 4: Citizen Toxie.

“Somebody must have fucked up,” I thought. I remember reading somewhere that Blockbuster wouldn’t carry unrated material, especially a Troma movie. How could this be? Was it divine? I picked up the case and mauled it over, and was really struck by the cover art – hand drawn and earthy . . . just how I like it. I read through the credits and saw it was directed by Lloyd Kaufman. “Troma must have gotten a new director,” I thought. What the hell . . . it was only $9.95 . . . plus I believe in fate . . . so I bought it.

A firestorm of emotions swept over me as the film rolled before my eyes. Never before had I seen such a fury of imagery cut loose before me. Sex, Blood, Gore, Nudity, Political Satire, Humor, Kick Ass Music . . . all rolled into a ball covered in gasoline and set ablaze going 100 miles per hour right into my eyes and crashing into my brain. It was like someone had taken Charlie Chaplin and added every taboo that everyone was ever afraid of and created an explosive piece of movie dynamite. I began to wonder what the hell I had been missing . . . and who the hell was this Lloyd Kaufman guy?

For the next four years I got my hands on everything Troma . . . from Tromeo & Juliet to Terror Firmer all the way down to Sugar Cookies and Squeeze Play. I began to read a lot about Lloyd Kaufman too, and how he started in the film business and worked his way up the ladder . . . doing shit jobs for low/no pay just so he could learn his craft from the inside out. I also learned that he and Samuel Weil were one and the same, which literally blew my fucking mind . . .

Whatever had made me hate Troma that day I watched the first Toxic Avenger was now the same thing that made me love them. Maybe it was the wise will that comes with maturity . . . I don’t know . . . but I had to show them how much I cared. So I drew a fucking comic book . . .

I would take the true ethos of what I thought was the driving force behind Troma Studios and put it into pictures and words. To me, the word “Troma” has always meant freedom, and being able to do what “you” want to do. The entertainment industry leads you to believe that slickness is good, and it takes an exceptional talent to make it in this day age . . . but there was Troma, warts and all, giving you the goods with more heart and soul than anything the Hollywood machine could deliver. They made me feel like I could do it too, and I was going to do it hell or high water.

I worked on it every night for a month . . . 4 – 6 hours or until I couldn’t see straight. I would watch the behind the scenes supplements on all of Lloyd Kaufman’s films . . . gaining inspiration from this raving madman genius who took his id by the balls and through it onto celluloid. I gave it my best, and when it was over, I held “Tromatic Tendencies: The Story of Lloyd Kaufman” a 10 page mini-comic about Lloyd Kaufman & Troma Studios . . . a fucked up fable if you will. After having it printed, I walked with sweaty palms and armpits to the post office and dropped it in the slot . . . expecting never to hear anything about it again. Boy was I wrong . . .

A week later I get a call from the man himself, Lloyd Kaufman, telling me how much he and The Troma Team loved the comic. Before I knew it, they were selling it on their website, with all proceeds going towards the Tromadance Film Festival. My dick got hard . . . real hard . . . and for the first time in my life I was a published cartoonist. My Hyman had been broken . . . Since then, I’ve been working on comics and projects that have either been published or in the process of . . . and I have no one to thank but Lloyd & The Troma Team. It might have been a minor thing to them, but it was an immense honor to me. Troma taught me that life is full of obstacles and everybody wants to shoot you down . . . but sometimes you just have to forge ahead and not take “NO” for an answer. They also taught me not to expect anything . . . don’t expect success, don’t expect money, don’t expect anything, so when you do get something it’s a bonus and it’s more meaningful.

If the Troma Art Movement means anything, it means to just be yourself, and create art that’s stimulating to you as well as the people you care about . . .and the rest of the world will eventually follow.

I would give these guys the fucking world if I could, but until then . . . I just might have to draw them another comic book.

The Best,

Andy P.