PERVERSION HAS always pushed the boundaries of human endeavor more efficiently than the most dedicated social or economic policy. Crush freaks are currently at the vanguard of our collective unconscious, leading the charge into a brighter new day where the lewd gratification gained from the torture of bugs is as common as a cup of tea at 4:00 p.m.

I must laud highly the determination of these sexual savants. The fallow fields of human sexuality have again been sown with the seeds of sexual hyperbole, and I trust we will, in time, come to see this development as another turning point in the youthful forward evolution of human perversion. All I can say is, it's about time! Who among us can honestly say they haven't fantasized about the ripe spectacle of a lovely female foot bearing down delicately, yet purposefully, on a lost ant, a fleeing beetle, or an addled earthworm? Who can honestly say they are not attracted to a woman with a sack of crickets in her hands?

For those longing to feel the thrills of the crush freak, satisfaction is just a phone call away. In his short black-and-white film, Smush, fetishist Jeff Vilencia lovingly depicts the sexual destruction of two dozen live earthworms, ravishing us with close-up images of beautiful painted toes toying with, stret-ching, squeezing, and crushing the blind, squirming beasts. A voice-over--relishing, in slightly echoed, nasal tones, the joys of bug-killing--runs throughout. And for the grand finale, out come the six-inch stilettos. If it sounds too rough, you can always warm up with Jeff's earlier film, Squish, which uses the same plot, but substitutes grapes for bugs. Onward, Crushing Soldier!