Editor’s Note: Toni Salisbury is guest-writing this week on behalf of her husband who is taking one of those breaks that you need after eating 18 hot pockets on a “dare.” Welcome back, Cinema Junkies. Your regular host–the connoisseur of crap, maitre d’ miserable, reviewer of the rotten and lover of lost causes, Brian Salisbury–is taking a brief hiatus to restock his celluloid pantry with the most fattening films he can find. And like a doting father loathes to leave his child with a strange, menacing babysitter for the first time, he asked Mrs. Junkfood to smooth the transition. Which I would do if this column WOULD JUST STOP SCREAMING! THEN I WOULDN’T HAVE TO SHAKE IT! (note: I have never shaken a baby, and neither should you. Ever.) With that in mind, I invite the reader to indulge his (or her) weekly appetite for the ridiculously bad (and bad-for-you) film and food pairing that is Junkfood Cinema. Since nature documentaries are hardly ever anything but vegan-like in mental effect, I chose to review the only film I repeatedly watch that both lowers my IQ and raises my cholesterol at the same time. It is the most pungent of the stinkers, the limpest of the flops, feature-filmiest of B movies–and my personal go-to-in-the-dark-of-night-when-no-one’s-around-and-God-help-you-if-you-catch-me-watching-this-guilty-pleasure movie: Cutthroat Island.