There can be little doubt that the Twin Peaks-Fire Walk With Me film of yesteryear was a giant ball of hard-sucking lame, but I remember getting a solid boot out of this scene. By all rights it really should be incorporated into the Winter Olympics somehow, if nothing else to at least scare off a few beigers or conversely dupe the more outre fans of the random and fucked up.
If only. Sadly, there is precious little Angelo Badalamenti on the local jukeboxes, but with enough bacon, beer, and B.C. bud perhaps a heavy dose of Bachman Turner Overdrive would start to warp your mind.