On Friday's General Hospital:

Kate violated the terms of her and Sonny's deal and chose to have her helicopter flown over his property as it was delivering a garden statue. So Sonny did the reasonable, logical thing, and had Jason come over and shoot the cable holding the crate, allowing it to drop through her roof and three floors of her house. In the aftermath, Jason was treated to the knowledge that Kate and Sonny share a past. Kate shared with Sonny the sentimental value of the sculpture which sent him guilt-ridden to Carly asking her to find a replacement.

I recognize that gleam in Carly's eye. She's going to use the incident to get back at Kate for their argument over the kids. Carly is also beginning to see Kate pushed Sonny's buttons. So, with Jax soon heading out of town, I'm sure we will see Carly turning about ten different shades of green.

Ric unsuccessfully threatened to charge Jax as an accessory if he didn't come clean about Jerry. In the meantime, Jerry caused more of his havoc, threatening Skye and Cooper to get what he wanted. He also unsuccessfully executed an attempt in the police lab to switch up DNA samples. The pressure is closing in, and I'm beginning to think the PCPD may actually successfully solve a crime, as unlikely as that may seem.

Armed with his arrest warrant — based solely on the digital recording — Ric, a very busy DA this week, ordered Lucky to pick up Jason. He first refused, saying he couldn't arrest him after he had saved Liz and his baby several times. Ric countered saying it made him the perfect man for the job, because Jason would cooperate with Lucky and come in peacefully. Unaware her husband was about to arrest him, Liz allowed Jason to hold Jake when she ran into him in the coffee shop. Lucky arrived, asked Jason to give the baby back to Liz and began reading him his rights.

Liz looked very upset. Will she be angry enough to come clean with Lucky?

Warning! News and Spoilers Ahead!

• Tyler Christopher recently signed a three year contract with the show, which means we will be treated to Nikolas for some time to come.
• Sam's determined to have a biological child with Jason, with the help of a surrogate. His incarceration and her past may get in the way.
• Lady Jane advises Jerry to leave town, but the way he does it sends Jax to his rescue. (Cue Ingo Rademacher's vacation.)
• Luke gets a heads-up from hacker Spinelli that Baldwin is being awarded guardianship of Laura; together they scheme to beat him to intervene. (Cue Geary's vacation.)

Wife, mother, aspiring novelist, and music editor at BC Magazine, Connie Phillips spends most of her time in a fantasy land of her own creating. In reality, she writes about music, television, and the process of writing, when she’s not cheering on her kids at equestrian events. Contact: Phillips.connie@gmail.com

“The Earth’s a garden, and we’re the pest. Well, someone finally called in the exterminator.”

For those unfamiliar, Masters of Horror is a Showtime TV series that consists of thirteen one-hour films per season. Following each picture’s television debut, the made-for-TV movie is released on DVD. Each film is unique in terms of director, star, and subject matter.

In the case of the seventh “episode” of the second season entitled The Screwfly Solution, the director is Joe Dante (Gremlins and The Howling); the topic is the apocalypse via bioterrorism; and, the star is Jason Priestley. Viewers beware: if Screwfly is any indication of the Masters of Horror series, shun these trashy featurettes at all cost.

The Screwfly Solution begins with 1,100 homicides in Jacksonville, Florida; in every case, the victim was female and the murderer male. Typical male sexual urges have mutated into vicious attacks, and this violent rage begins to spread to other cities like an infectious disease. From July to December, the extermination of the female race results in the genocide of humankind.

Out to stop this parasitic mindset is a pair of scientists named Alan (Jason Priestley) and Barney (Elliot Gould). The only known cure is castration, and when Alan returns home thinking that he can suppress his urges, he endangers his wife Anne (Kerry Norton) and daughter Amy (Brenna O’Brien).

With its static screen transitions and unnecessary ending, The Screwfly Solution is executed poorly. The static is reminiscent of White Noise, and the abrupt alien finale is as detrimental and uncalled-for as the spider conclusion in It. Furthermore, with a one-hour running time, it is difficult to decipher whether the production is an attempt at a romance, a scare, a thriller, or a political piece.

Speaking of politics, no other film presses its misogynous tendencies to such a max. Characters are quoted as believing “rag heads hate all women,” ordering “woman, fetch me my slippers,” and calling females names like “stupid bitch(es).” Not to mention, the women in the film are depicted either dancing naked for men or getting stabbed, shot, or having their necks snapped. In Screwfly, women are literally hunted like deer, and in one case, a breast becomes a trophy in the form of a bullet bag. What’s most distasteful is that all of the female killings are justified by the “Spirit of God.”

To correct The Screwfly Solution’s main premise, the dying breed is not the female species, but rather the horror genre itself. By prefacing the insect-inspired title with “Masters of Horror,” Screwfly proves that “masterful” horror is a dwindling species. Trust me, The Screwfly Solution is far from masterful; it’s master crap. It’s as productive as a larva and as tasteful as a maggot. Get out the swatter, and smear this one into the wall.

Whenever my childhood Etch-A-Sketch decided to leave me a horribly cryptic message regarding bleak future events, I would immediately dismiss its crude, illegible warning with a snort, pop another Risperdal, and order my squadron of GI Joe figures to guard my spooky closet door with their insignificant lives. Had I known this seemingly useless time-wasting device could accurately predict the untimely demise of my immature, pot-smoking friends, I would have promptly sold this amazing contraption at the local flea market and used the proceeds to purchase a poorly-dubbed cassette of the B-52's Rock Lobster album. Opportunistic? With bells on, buddy.

After witnessing a similar series of events within directors Brendan Cowles and Shane Kuhn's goofy clown-oriented slasher Drive-Thru, I was left dumbstruck and drooling. Were my freak childhood memories somehow being channeled by a pair of up-and-coming horror filmmakers, or are the satanic powers found lurking deep inside my own Etch-A-Sketch slowly contaminating the entire world? Should I rush home to confront this evil creation armed with only a Zippo lighter and a generic pack of smokes, or should I consult with my ambulance-chasing lawyers about seeking financial retribution from a pair of guys who have raped and pillaged my deep-rooted childhood terrors?

Maybe I'll just pop another Risperdal and take a long nap, instead.

Unless you've accidentally misplaced your own lump of squishy gray matter, you shouldn't need a fortune-telling doodling device to uncover the fact that Drive-Thru is the latest LionsGate release that attempts to snatch a little green from the Velcro wallets of the horror-loving public without providing a high-quality product in exchange. While it never really succeeds at splitting your sides and dumping your steaming innards all over your brand new Disney-colored carpeting, this high-calorie 90-minute excursion into the dreaded horror/comedy universe should provide you and your illiterate friends with plenty of nifty late-night entertainment. As long as you don't expect too much from it, of course.

If Drive-Thru were a delicious all-beef hamburger value meal found only at participating locations, it would probably be listed as the Ho-Hum combo with no onions and extra cheese. Here's what's under the bun: Some axe-wielding nutjob in a pimped-out Horny the Clown outfit is slowly carving his way through the local teen population, starting with a group of white suburban thugs who make the deadly decision to stop at the local Hella Burger for a quick bite to eat. Soon he's moving onto sluts, stoners, and various other high school cliches we've seen way too many times to count. I'm getting gas just thinking about it.

Are these murders completely unrelated, or is there some mysterious underlying connection our heroes don't know about yet? Why is some random seventeen year-old rocker chick receiving psychic messages from the man responsible for these savage slayings? Does all of this nonsense have something to do with the Hella Burger president's dead son, or are these murders just the gory artistic expressions of a madman with a fast food fetish? More importantly, will you really care about anything you see in this movie once its finished inserting its greasy fingers into your easily amused ocular sockets?

Drive-Thru is essentially an off-brand pot of mystery meat constructed from a bevy of tasty genre livestock. The supposed story is supported with rusty plot devices borrowed from Craven's original A Nightmare on Elm Street entry, Cunningham's Friday the 13th franchise, a few loose boards from Halloween's house of horrors, and a several dozen useless one-liners discarded by various filmmakers who know better than to stick these groan-inducing clips and phrases into their actors' willing mouths. To say this flick is completely unoriginal and totally uninspired would be an understatement, a fact which is compounded tenfold when you consider all of the missed opportunities for fast food-related mayhem.

However, despite Cowles and Kuhn's obvious creative deficiencies, Drive-Thru still manages to provide an evening's worth of mildly engaging entertainment. It's stupid enough to operate as your prototypical brainless slasher, incorporating just enough humor to give you the feeling that nobody is taking this mess too seriously. If you still need further proof of the film's light-hearted nature, behold filmmaker Morgan Spurlock's strangely hilarious cameo as a befuddled Hella Burger employee faced with the daunting task of removing unruly teenagers from the restaurant's colorful play area. Still, the fast food motif isn't explored as deeply as its garish DVD artwork suggests, leaving this farcical film fiend craving seconds.

Did I enjoy watching Drive-Thru? You bet. Would I classify it as a good movie? Not on your best friend's baby's momma's life, dear readers. This is just another run-of-the-mill comedic slasher that borrows heavily from the films that influenced its dodgy creators. While the performances are decent, the gore is effective, and the production values are unusually high for this sort of picture, it still doesn't rise above its station as a throwaway slice of fast food entertainment. Furthermore, Drive-Thru never handles the material in a way that separates it from the forty-four other like-minded flicks currently clogging retail arteries as we speak.

And it doesn't even come with a cheap plastic toy.