Buckle up. Director Chi Chi LaRue has concocted one of the craziest, wildest, yet profoundly choreographed interracial gang-bangs of all time. Lily-white yuppie Saunders looks like he's carved out of very expensive soap, but when he pulls his car into Buck's Auto Smog Test Station and is told by black Buck (Diaz), "You don't pass, you don't pay. You pass, you pay with your ass," his Tom Cruise smirk never falters. He smiles like he has a mouthful of Crest Whitestrips. Diaz uses Saunders' tie as a leash and calls in seven — that's seven — more African-American mechanics. Indomitable Saunders gobbles every one of their world-class, heavily veined cocks while they eat his pearly-pink male pussy. Then they all fuck him, right? Wronnnng! They dump eight loads onto the grinning, grateful Saunders, and then, with LaRue's characteristic originality, they suck and fuck each other while taking turns grinding their squirming assholes on Saunders' beaming, and soon gleaming, face as he lies sprawled across the hood of a big ol' baby-blue Chevrolet sedan. It is not until nearly 90 minutes into this surging, seething mass of lashing black and white limbs and bouncing basalt boners that Saunders' delicate rose gets train-ganged on a dirty tower of stacked old tires and he gets another shower of semen! The videography by Adam Killian and Hue Wilde is so well-done that the butt-banger-bearing blacks seem like little three-dimensional creatures partying in your TV set. It's hard to think of any award for which this artistically amazing, playfully corrupt, politically incorrect, poetically gross, perfectly filthy picture will not be considered.