Despite watching a lot of films, I don't often 'talk' about them (yes, boo shame on me). However, I whipped up a few thoughts on The Massage Parlor Murders which I watched recently...
Massage Parlor Murders (1973) 
What do you get if you cross Herschell Gordon Lewis and Michael and Roberta Findlay? The answer is quite possibly this film.
Massage Parlor Murders is a curious scuzzy gem dug up for mass consumption thanks to the fine folks at Vinegar Syndrome. The film trundles along to the tune of a mixture of funk and synth as our resident madman carves his way through the staff of the local massage parlor. Whilst the film does drag a little earlier on, patience is rewarded with some of the more unnecessary 'filler' scenes (and mild car porn) making way for more of blood 'n' breasts type fare, along with a 'peephole' topless classical dance routine; accompanied (of course) by a purple spandex wearing chubby man... add to this Brother Theodore from The 'burbs making plain his intentions of a "bouquet of broccoli" to replace his head at the time of his death and you know that you've stumbled across something a little special.
The bizarro slow-mo flashback murder montage conclusion is just the icing on this very odd, but ultimately satisfying cake.