Then, for the first time in this movie, but certainly not the last, we hear bland country music on the soundtrack. Cut to the sign for a bar called "Pappy and Harriet's Pioneertown Palace" all lit up against the night sky. The biker we saw earlier (he of the black leather vest and Harley Davidson T-shirt) enters the bar. He removes his cap and sunglasses, allowing his stringy red hair and red beard to be fully exposed. Sadly, this is none other than auteur Clive Turner himself. As the writer, director, and lead actor, Clive is the recipient of the Coleman Francis Award for wearing three different hats and blowing donkeys no matter which one he has on.

Inside, the bar is flooded with light, and everything's shot with soft focus lens and dead-on camera angles, reminding me of really cheap Skinemax soft-core pornos. Unfortunately, the acting we'll see will be about on the same level. A waitress wearing a plaid tablecloth gives an order to a greasy bartender in a headband and tie-dyed T-shirt. Meanwhile, the spitting image of Max Weinberg in a denim shirt and jeans tries to talk the waitress up. It's all just as horrifying as it sounds.

Meanwhile, the biker looks over the selections in the jukebox, while the sub-sub-amateur country song in the background declares, "I like it like this / I like it like that / I like the way you wear your big cowboy hat". As a scary note, these are actually some of the better lyrics we'll be hearing over the next ninety minutes. The biker gives up on the jukebox and heads to the bar. He says to bartender, "G'day, can I have a beer, mate?" Hey, I know, he's from Queens!

The bartender, for no real reason, grumbles that "it's a country jukebox". He's quickly rebuked by Aussie Biker-Dude. "It's not a country jukebox without George Jones!" We cut back to the bartender, and the hack that shot this scene has totally crossed the action axis. Half a second ago, the bartender was looking to the left while talking to Aussie Biker, but now he's facing right.

"It's got everyone else," the bartender mumbles. "What's such a big deal about George Jones?" Honestly, this guy seems annoyed to be in this movie, almost like it's keeping him from a nap.

Aussie Biker proceeds to enlighten him. "From the Beatles to the Rolling Stones..." Suddenly, the Max Weinberg clone chimes in with, "If they could all sing like they wanted to..." And then both Aussie Biker and Max Weinberg declare in unison, "They'd all sing like George Jones!"

Max Weinberg asks the bartender if he knows who wrote that song. A huge guy with thick-framed glasses chimes in with, "George Jones?" Good guess, but no. The men laugh and Aussie Biker reveals those classic words were written by Waylon Jennings.

Big Fat Guy, who reminds me of a fatter version of George Wendt (God, is that even possible?), says to the bartender, "Jim, the only thing you know about country music is the first four letters!" Okay, what?

Cut to a young-ish woman with light brown hair standing behind the bar. "Brock!" she sharply admonishes Fatter George Wendt. This girl's okay-looking I guess, but really not that great. However, if you're into women at all, you will be lusting after her throughout the entire movie. It's a well-documented phenomenon that I'll call "Pioneertown Hot" for the purposes of this movie. See, in any other movie, she's not that hot. But when you're watching this movie and the only other thing to look at is Jim the Bartender or Brock the Poor Man's George Wendt, she suddenly becomes a hell of a lot more appealing.

"Sorry, Cheryl," Brock says to the girl, "I didn't know you could spell!" [?] I know I'm not the only one lost here. I'm assuming that Brock thinks "country" is spelled "cuntry" [!]. I know it's crude, but it's the only way any of this dialogue comes close to making sense.

"Yeah," Cheryl says. "And I can also count—up to 86!" And she jerks her thumb in the direction of the door. Oh, man, I'm getting a killer headache already. I can tell this is going to be a loooong review.

Max Weinberg introduces himself as Bob, and Aussie Biker says, "G'Day, I'm Ted, Ted Smith!" Bob turns to the bartender and says, "This is Jim!" The bartender shakes hands with Ted and tells him, "Hi, Jim!" You might want to save your pity laughs, though, because there's a plethora of stupid jokes right around the corner.

It's almost astonishing how horrible the dialogue is in this movie. It's like an unending gold mine, a neverending geyser of stupidity. Don't believe me? Here's just a small sample:

Please, somebody shoot me. Seriously, I'll buy the gun and the bullets.

I'd like to take a moment here to extend a sincere apology to Akiva Goldsman. Mr. Goldsman, after watching this movie, I now realize that the puns you wrote for Batman & Robin were sharp, brilliant, and spot-on hilarious. Please accept my apology.

Ted explains he's come to Pioneertown looking for a job, and Bob says he'll have to talk to Harriet the co-owner about that. Just then, a middle-aged waitress named Eveanne walks up and Bob asks where Harriet is. Meanwhile, Ted blatantly looks her up and down.

After Eveanne walks away, Ted says, "Went over like a lead balloon there! What do you think it was, my charm or my good looks?" Maybe it was your stunning resemblance to an even older, scummier, more decrepit version of Ted Nugent.

"Hey, dude," Bartender Jim sleepily says. "It takes a lot to impress that girl. I mean, a lot." Like, for instance, good hygiene.