“Sorry it's so fucking stupid.”—Richard Bain, co-star of Cars III, comedian, former Portlander

I wasn’t sorry Cars III was so stupid. I loved how stupid Cars III was. It’s a glorious melange of yelling, nunchucks, lasers, gunfights, dead burned lesbians, and blood-spurting belly buttons. So pretty much the most inane and hysterical half hour this side of a Chuck E. Cheese on fire. And the short local film is now out on DVD.

The new Troma release all started as the viral video Cars (look I wrote something about it a couple years back). You know the one where the Funtown Auto guy yells, “GET OUT YOUR FUCKING CHECKBOOK!” Well, that’s Travis Jones, and his son is played by director Bobby Hacker, who’s responsible for a butt-ton of hijinks in his low-budget, surreal trilogy of Cars movies (the ones Pixar decidedly does not condone). While the first two films clocked in around two minutes each, Cars III hits the 38-minute mark, which seems both ridiculously long and sadly too short for this eyes-and-ears-bludgeoning spectacle of redonkulous.

More after the jump.

Along with Cars and Cars II, there’s a clutch of features on the DVD: more of Hacker’s shorts, a hilariously twee music video about cutting one’s dick off, and a special little film called Roy Orbison’s Bird Shit Fetish. But above all, the crowning jewel—albeit one soaked in blood and diarrhea—is Cars III.

The film was shot in a month in 2008 by Hacker and his crew, a band of Vancouverites, who premiered it at the New Beverly in LA at Patton Oswalt’s bequest. Hacker & Co. are super nice guys—they gave me a post-rush-hour cocktail when I went to visit them so many years ago in Vancouver, WA, when they were editing Cars III. But watching the final product, it feels like a crew of hopped-up underpants-wearing hillbillies got together, stole a camera, jerryrigged a green screen, and set to work trying to show the world what it's like to chug pre-blinding-stage moonshine. It’s sweaty and yelly and irreverent and gross and awesome and funny as hell. Above all, it’s really, really, really stupid. In a less cultured time, it would’ve been called “retarded.” But in these enlightened days, Cars III is kinda brilliant. It’s also really hard to describe, but "the story" follows a used car salesman (Jones) who made a deal with the devil and only has one hour to sell a 1986 Mercury Topaz sitting on his lot. Hand and eye lasers ensue.

You should do yourself a favor and watch it. At the very least for the appearance of Winston—the scariest mascot EVER.