Don’t feel bad if you’ve never heard of Redneck County Fever. It’s a low-grade indie movie found in one of those “50 splatter movies for $14.99” boxes. I never buy those because, as a rule, I don’t buy movies that are so shitty they need to be packaged with 49 other movies just to have a prayer of selling. But, I pinched a box called “Tomb of Terrors” from a friend for some review fodder because, well, I have a Lame Duck to write and I still haven’t been to the video store. If I’d have known it was the same box with Barely Legal Lesbian Vampires, I would have bounced it off the highway on the way to work. But I was stuck, and out of 50 potential sources of anal rupture at my fingertips, I chose Redneck County Fever because it was only 60 minutes and I was on a role with redneck movies after Two Thousand Maniacs! It was an epic gamble.

The first thing to note about this movie is that it’s woefully miscast as being part of a box set that screams about “deviant behavior and bucket loads of gore!” There isn’t a drop of blood in this movie, nor is there any real violence to speak of unless you count a little gunplay by characters either blind or unfamiliar with the concept of trying to hit someone/thing with their shots. There are no monsters or demons to tear unborn babies from the womb to feed on. It’s just two annoying dumbasses getting themselves into bad situations. Wait, that reminds me of something. Harold and Kumar? No, that’s not it. It’ll come to me, just wait.

Our guides through Redneck County, U.S.A. (not the movie Redneck County, which I saw but don’t remember a thing about other than thinking it, too, was strangely not so bad) are Fred and Lowry, two rock-stupid wastes of Zubaz (yes, they’re both wearing them), who are driving home from college for Thanksgiving. They might be two of the most reprehensibly annoying characters ever to open a movie; kind of a live-action version of those two talking mannequin heads from Gruesome Twosome. Fred, a chunky white Baumann, speaks with an “uh, dude, like, whatever” Valley Boy accent so horrendous and forced it would make Keanu Reeves double over in discomfort. He’s on-screen the entire movie, and he never shuts up, so liking the movie is a monumental task from the start. Then we have Lowry, our token black guy, who at times seems to forget he is playing a moron and talks in a normal voice. Then, mid-sentence, he’ll remember to talk stupid, but all that means is he talks in a barely audible grunt. It’s astounding that some filmmaker somewhere thought it would be a good idea to sabotage his or her own movie by featuring characters who talk like this. Simply astounding.

Anyway, Fred’s shitty car breaks down deep in the heart of the nondescript south. After getting a ride into the redneck town of Redbud from county fair beauty queen LuAnn, Fred and Lowry run into weird cracker after weird cracker in an inane quest to get Lowry’s car fixed. First, they run into the mysterious Big Bad Bob, who pays the hapless duo $400 to deliver a shady package to the next town. It’s the first plot point of the movie, but parts of it are nearly drown out by the banjo noodling soundtrack, which gets loud and quiet without cause frequently.

Okay, try and follow. They take a car to deliver the package and pick up a hitchhiker, but the car is stolen and the hitchhiker is a cop. The package is inevitably drugs, but Fred and Lowry get away by throwing the powdery narcotic goodness into the cop’s eyes. After wandering around the forest for a while — and taking me within inches of throwing the DVD out the window after the worst rendition of “Band on the Run” ever — they get trapped by some ass-backwards camouflaged cannibal cracker. After escaping by convincing him to hunt them ala “The Most Dangerous Game,” they’re picked by a weird guy who offers to fix their car for only $200.

On the way back to the car is when I came to the horrible realization that I was kind of into the movie. I think if Fred and Lowry didn’t talk in those fucked-up accents, I might have been fully enjoying it. Realizing you’re enjoying a movie called Redneck County Fever is not good for a person’s self esteem, believe me.

Back at Fred’s car, the weird guy takes out his “tools,” his Bible, and starts repairing the car Christian Scientist style — asking God to fix it. But while he has our intrepid heroes praying to the great god Kia, he sneaks into his car and drives off, leaving the two dumbasses broke and back where they started. And they learned nothing. And, somehow, I thought it was funny. It marked the first time I’d ever actual enjoyed a minute of something out of one of those cheapo indie DVD collections. Speaking of being back at the beginning, LuAnn comes back and gives them a ride back into town, where, by incredible plot coincidence, the cop is her uncle, and he’ll help them out if they help him bring down Big Bad Bob. They do just that, and they end up driving off into the sunset.

Okay, so the shootout ending was stupid, and the production values of it (fake-looking guns with no kick-back and no smoke) are beyond awful, but the sunset ending finally made me realize why I, well, didn’t hate it. It was a poor man’s, live-action episode of “Beavis & Butt-Head” with more annoying heroes. We’ve got two complete idiots (though Beavis and Butt-Head were stupider, they were never this annoying) getting into random trouble and getting screwed out of their money, only to end up wandering into the sunset after everything somehow works out for them. All that was missing was “huh huh, dillweed” “huh huh, fartknocker” commentary over happy music.

In case it needs clarifying, I adore Beavis & Butt-Head. I was about 11 or 12 when the series debuted — the night the show debuted was an epic event in my house — and I kept watching the show enraptured until I saw every episode. After all these years, I can’t say it’s my favorite show of all time, but I can confidently say I was never, ever into a show as much as I was when Beavis & Butt-Head was in its prime. And somehow, by pure chance, some talentless filmmaker recreated that magic in a lower form. It was stupid, it was inane and it had dumbasses mingling with rednecks. It’s not everything Beavis & Butt-Head were, but it’s cut from one corner of their universe. If they would have worked in a Grim Reaper video somewhere, I would have been in love.

So by the magic of extremely low expectations and not being able to turn the movie off and do something else because I was at work, I somehow am able to put my stamp of approval on Redneck County Fever, though I’ll probably sign this review Alan Smithee to protect my last shred of pedantic dickery that every reviewer clings to. And since I can’t find any reviews for this movie online, I wonder if I’m the first person to ever write anything good about it. I don’t know who made this movie, but I hope that feels good in some way, even if I’m not the first. But it you think I’m going to watch any of the other movies in this box, you’re one hog anus short of a pack of hot dogs. What, do you think I’m really going to risk putting in Sorority Babes in the Dance-A-Thom of Death or Kill Them and Eat Them? I may be a dumbass with a penchant for idiots and rednecks, but I’m not that stunted.