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How to describe the breathaking majesty of this film? Simple: Mimi Rodgers in the full maelstrom of nationwide Fowley Fever takes on a tv film project in which she will play a single mother who will prostitute herself in Reno in order to pay for her aging mother's Alzheimer's medicene. Dotty mom played by Tyne Daily. When daughter done dirty by amoral casino pimp, dotty mom comes through with old mafia connection to snuff wrongdoing party and free daughter from iron grip of party-town hooker industry. Octogenarian hitman dresses like Cab Calloway and drives Edsel. Honest, earnest blond guy enters in Act III to save mom, kid, and Mimi via the good-natured earthiness of his awesome wardrobe of plaid shirts. In every shot, Mimi's every facial wrinkle is lovingly emphasized.

True to Saint Herschell's form, Just for the Hell of It seems to have been filmed simultaneously with his uber-biker-chick flick, She Devils on Wheels. Much of the same cast, including two Teutonic tons of love, are on hand, but mostly to use up excesss film stock. Just for the hell of it, "teenage" hooligans with receding hairlines and middle-age spreads engage a reign of small-town terror that mostly involves wrecking a beatnik coffee house, if a beatnik coffee house was constructed of flattened refrigerator boxes stapled together and set-decorated by Carol Brady. In one scene they steal an inattentive mother's infant and stash it in a trash can. Yes, they terrorize cripples freshly emerging from the hospital.

Just for the Hell of It -- the sequel to She-Devils on Wheels -- is packaged on a double disk with another of Saint Hershell's masterpieces: Blast-Off Girls. I haven't watched JftHoI pending our next Exploitation Film Festival, but BOG charts unfamiliar territory for Saint Hershell: the rock 'n' roll flick. Unabashedly promoted as St. Hershell's "Hard Day's Night," Blast-Off Girls centers around a by-now familiar HGL archetype, the charmless blond man with inexplicable preternatural powers over all the babes in the vicinity, and his usage of these powers to direct a corps of three (3) geriatric but extremely tarted-up go-go chicks (actually, they're hens) to appear to be a screaming horde of teeny-boppers to beset what is likely the very rock-bottom jaw-dropping worst five-man combo in garage rock history, thus making them seem like the next Beatles. Zany antics ensue. Though the lead actor is good, he's no Tony McCabe; his presence is notable mainly for his ability to corrupt a straight-laced cop with reefer and his enviable collection of seasonal-colored jackets from Chadwick's of Boston. Best moments: chicken theme reaches zenith with extended and very special appearance of Mr. Rock & Roll HimSelf: Col. Sanders.