This past weekend, I made sure to check the New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, the IMDB, and any other available and reliable resource to make sure Bubba Ho-tep was actually being released before I took the time to write a review (i.e., took the time to translate then plagiarize reviews from obscure Norwegian magazines). I soon realized why I was so aggressively trying to confirm Bubba's existence. Because I needed to make sure I hadn't dreamed (or rather nightmared) 
the whole thing up. (After all, in dream-like fashion, at the screening I believed I had attended – wasn't that throaty, tattoo ridden MTV metal-head VJ Ian Robinson sitting next to me making degrading comments to his friend about Fred Durst?)
I had to ask myself: Was there really a movie made about an Egyptian mummy that sucks souls from the orifices of old people at an East Texas rest home where the residents include a long retired, presumed dead Elvis Presley (Bruce Campbell) and a black man (Ossie Davis) who is convinced he is a dyed JFK? Is that possible?
The answer, at least in limited release and to some minor rumblings of critical acclaim, is yes.
Bubba Ho-tep, based on the writings of pulp horror writer Joe R. Lansdale, is exactly what it sounds like: One strange ass, tripped out movie. No, not strange ass like Mulholland Drive. No, not tripped out like Mars Attacks!. How bout like TerrorVision starring a young Chad Allen? Ok, a bit closer.
We could go over the mind-boggling plot points and you may be dazzled by the inventiveness, imagination, and lunacy