I’ve got three letters, “W.O.W.,” two very necessary capitalized words, “THANK YOU,” and 37 exclamation points, “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” (I counted.)

This is a shout out to Tromaville’s whole-hearted, enthusiastic, truly dedicated fans, and to our fearless leader, Jamie Greco, who organized and entertained NON-STOP. This blog is dedicated to you. Jamie, you are a bright star in our eyes! (Which explains the sunglasses.)

The supremely zealous, dynamic protestors of the American Chicken Bunker (ACB), to date, have sacrificed approximately 15 hours of rehearsal time and an entire weekend (26 hours in two days) in the hot hot HOT Buffalo sun to make some art. Personally, I could not believe they came back after day one. I think it was the overabundance of warm drinking water and cold suntan lotion we provided for them, or maybe it was the luxurious porta potties! Maybe not.

But on a serious (not usually a word in our vocab here … but I’ll try) note, Wendy and Micki could not have done their job without you. You are our backbone. 100%! Thank you for your support. It is a supreme honor to work with you. Solidarity forever! Screw the American Chicken Bunker, the General, Colonel Kluck, and the conspiracy of the labor, bureaucratic, and corporate elites who suck dry the economic and spirtual capital of the entire country. Or, on second thought, don’t — that’s a lot of screwing.

Speaking of screwing, I wanted to take a moment to mention those slutilicious ACB dancers. (Just kidding, girls.) In case it hasn’t been perfectly clear so far, we’re making some sort of movie musical here, and we wouldn’t be where we are today without the remarkable contribution from our dance choreographers, Maria Gismondi and Tracy Janis. Maria and Tracy, you are the slutilicious sunshine of our harsh, dance-free days.

Just to give you a little taste of a day at the American Chicken Bunker, approximately 50 Tromites gathered together (ON THEIR OWN ANTI MEGA-CONGLOMERATE TIME) to: scream (both quietly and loudly), make angry faces, vomit on each other, fight fight fight, sit around waiting for the Director, Writer, and Director of Photography to stop arguing, do a take 37 times at 157 different angles (I counted. OK, I lied.), stop filming for very necessary water and sunscreen because our precious volunteers were beginning to blister, or maybe take a quick visit to the unholy, gnarly 1000-degrees-hotter-than-the-surface-of-the-sun porta potty which “should have been done when film was reloading, not during precious cloud cover time” (Buttercup and Co.). Precious, indeed. I could go on, but I think you got a little taste of real filmmaking. Or at least real Troma filmmaking, which tastes better than Hollywood filmmaking, but not as good as chocolate Tastykakes. And now a word from our sponsors…

We want to thank Glenn Lasky for bringing Colonel Kluck to life and for dancing around in the blistering heat in a heavy white chicken costume.

And even though the General is Micki’s rival and I’d rather discuss how much I dispise him, I guess I should give him the floor and let him chime in on what it’s like to be so hated: P.S. Andy Deemer is STILL waiting for Mr. Kaufman to pop the question so he can be Andy Kaufman…we will definitely keep you posted on that one.

— Allyson Sereboff (Micki) and John Landis