creepy pedo-ish scene, but Elvis's costume throughout most of it looked like some kind of I-Dream-of-Jeannie-M.C. Hammer-non-jewel-protected couture. We know how in to karate you were, dear Elvis, and that you loved these pants so much you took them home with you from the movie set. Was the jungle room not enough? I would take you rolled in peanut butter and bananas and deep fried or busting from those glittery white jumpsuits, but I will not take you as a lime popsicle.
Number of things I should have done instead of watching this beaut to the end: 40