cutline: Sly Rocky Rambo gets thrown in a prison so rough they only give you one clean undershirt per year
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
Every year about this time Wanda Bodine starts talking about going back to college. Not a regular college. She's already been to Tarleton State cow college, University of Arkansas law school, and Sul Ross State School for Teachers of the Feeble-minded. But she starts getting the itch every August to enroll in one of those "personal enrichment" schools that stuff their catalogues in the grocery store checkout line. "I intend to elevate my self-esteem this fall," said Wanda, even though a woman with a closet full of black-leather mini-skirts shouldn't necessarily go too much further in that direction.
Anyhow, I went over to the Le Bodine beauty parlor and aerobic dance studio on the Grapevine Highway in order to evaluate Wanda's fall curriculum with her. She's gonna be taking a full 15 hours this semester, beginning with . . .
"Telemarketing: How Do I Get Started?": 6 p.m. Wednesdays, Grapevine Mall: Teaches the basics of a telemarketing career, including dialing, using the "phone book," and getting a "telephone" installed by professionals in your office and/or home. In a matter of weeks, you'll be ready to say "Hello," "Howdy," and, for informal use, "Hi."
"Belly Dancing With Your Cat": 7:30-8:30 p.m. Fridays, Wilhelmina High School: Let a professional belly dancer apply the exotic and mysterious arts of the Middle East to your exotic and mysterious household pet. Have you ever wondered why your cat extends its forepaw like Barbara Eden? You'll be much better able to relate to little Tabby when you see her breast muscles start to firm up and the contours start to develop in her tail. Instructor Liliana will also help train your cat to avoid any rehearsals while in the litter box.
"Catering From Your Own Kitchen": 6-9 p.m. Mondays, La Escuela Mexican Food, Harry Hines Boulevard: Do you realize there are thousands of events held every day in your community in desperate need of cheap, fast catering? Learn how to mix Beanee Weenies, Velveeta cheese, and jalapenos in a styrofoam tray and sell it to entire Little League teams. Must own a microwave before enrolling.
"Write Jokes For Johnny Carson": 3-8 p.m., Sundays, The Yukster House of Humor, Dallas-Fort Worth Turnpike: Have you ever listened to a "Tonight Show" monologue and said to yourself, "I could have written that?" Well, maybe you can! Under the guidance of Sol Shelstein, former writer for "The Bill Dana Show," you will learn the basics of crisp, clean comedy writing. You'll start with "I saw an item in the paper today . . .," move on to "The audience we had last night . . .," and, if you have "the stuff," finish up the course with "Doc, the last time I saw an outfit like that . . ." At the end of the course, Mr. Shelstein will attempt to get Johnny Carson to buy the first honest laugh he's had in the last ten years. Who knows? It could be YOUR laugh.
And, finally, my favorite course of the year . . .
"Dress Like a Hooker Until You Find That Perfect Stable Partner": 4 p.m.-1 a.m., three nights weekly, La Costa Disco: Some men won't take the time to understand a woman's needs and desires unless she has black fishnet stockings and lips the color of blood. These are, of course, the men you want to take home with you. It may surprise you to learn that, no matter how homely you THINK you are, you can pull the wool over their eyes with just a few simple accessories, a blow-dryer, and some midriff work. Instructress Louisa Stallworth, a professional hooker and housewife for the past 12 years, will explain makeup coordination, the strut, the all-important hand on hip, and, of course, the provocative sneer. Within a matter of hours, you'll be reeling em in like starved large-mouth bass. Stop pining away and start selling yourself.
Speaking of intellectuals, Sly Rocky Rambo just put out his best flick since "First Blood," the story of what it would be like if you went to prison in New Jersey and the warden was Donald Sutherland. Pretty scary already, isn't it? But in "Lock Up" it gets even more terrifying. Sylvester is tossed into a prison so mean that they force you to play football in the mud --and then they cheat.
Actually, Sly looks a lot more rested in this movie than he was during the Brigitte years. It's the old Sly. And all he really wants to do is be an auto mechanic and play games with little children and hold hands in the park with Darlanne Fluegel. But he can't do that because mean people keep carrying him away in the middle of the night and kicking him in the stomach and making dirty remarks about his girlfriend. The people in this prison aren't very polite.
Fortunately, there's one guy in the prison who looks out for Sly and understands when Sly straps the warden in the electric chair and pulls the switch. Who could have such compassion and understanding? Only one person -- Gordy the weatherman from "The Mary Tyler Moore Show." He knows that when you kill Sly's 20-year-old Mexican-American sidekick with a 500-pound bench-press free weight, somebody has got to pay.
"Cool Hand Sly." No breasts. Five dead bodies. One motor vehicle chase. One busted nose. Chest crushing. Back stabbing. Gratuitous "Vehicle" by the Ides of March. Gratuitous, senseless destruction of a 65 Ford Mustang V8. Football Fu. De-lousing Fu. Electrocution Fu. Icepick Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Donald Sutherland, as the warden, for saying, "This is hell, and I'm going to give you the guided tour;" and Sly Rocky Rambo, for saying, "Your body has to be here, but your mind can be anywhere."
Four stars. Joe Bob says check it out.
"Lock Up" goes to No. 1 on the 1989 Drive-In Hit List.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Communist Alert! They're really doing it. I mentioned it a couple years ago, but I thought it was a joke. The Starlite Drive-In in Watsonville, Calif., has been torn down, and they're building . . . Starlite Elementary School! There's a town that appreciates its heritage. The first little impressionable yard monsters will be enrolling next year. Thanks to Alice Montgomery for the amazing news report. Remember, without eternal vigilance, it can happen in your town. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get some free junk or his world famous newsletter, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221. Joe Bob's FAX line is always open: (214) 368-2310.
Dear Joe Bob,
If life is a circle, then we're all going nowhere. Have you ever noticed that nowhere is "now here"? And if life means to exist, and to exist means you're now here, then life is nowhere! In the words of the brunette bimbo whose only meaning to life was to serve the masses hamburgers in a greasy spoon in my all time favorite movie "The Terminator": "Look at it this way. In a hundred years, who's gonna care?" As for me, my life goes down in picturesque disorder. Therefore my meaning to life has been rather hard to grasp. Tho if I find what my meaning to life is I'll tell ya. While I live here. Running in my circle, turning around to see me. Running in my circle, turning around to see me. Running in my circle, turning around to see me. Running in my circle, turning around to see. . . . Put a penny on that skip! Remember the white stuff Big John Belushi put in his mouth in another of my all time favorite movies "Animal House"? What was that stuff? I need answers fast!
Stacy Holley
Carrollton, Tex.
Dear Stacy:
All these years I've been asking people to write in about the meaning of life, and you're the first person who's ever come up with the correct answer.
Dear Joe Bob,
Why are the copyright dates always in Roman numerals?
Michael McGrath
Carrollton, Tex.
Dear Mike:
To confuse nerds who read copyright dates.
J.B.,
I think Bush should appoint you attorney general so you can go and force Seven-Eleven to start selling Playboy and Penthouse again. Who could ask for a better way to use the power of the federal government for the public good? Yours in fear,
Mark Allison
Columbus, O.
Dear Mark:
It's too late. He's already sent some goons to Texas to try to get us to start censoring the photos in Veterinary Science Today. There are whole generations of Texans who learned most of what they know about life from studying the pictures in there.
Dear Joe Bob,
Take my scenario: At first they thought I was relative to Einstein. Yup, shipped me off to college at sixteen. Talk about future shock. Earned a few extra bucks modeling. Worked with people who couldn't decide what to wear, let alone what was life. Zap. After that was over I thought I'd try marriage, at 18. This lasted six months, not that I was an over achiever and finished early. No, he was into relatives: mine. Zap. Next I thought playing around with parts was fun. A whole 10 years worth (engineering). Zap. The big 3-0 rolls around. Zap zap. So . . . I got bored and went into the ping-pong business. Stocks, that is. Found out what Ruthless People was all about. Didn't even need to see the movie. ZAP. Now I write letters to other weird people, contemplating if life is comedy? Since the shock therapy hasn't been working, I guess I'll have to find a new endeavor. As I view it, it's got to be writing screenplays or professional dating.
Cynthia Henning
Dallas
Dear Cynthia:
Try dating. Less rejection.
J.B.,
Poem:
Joe Bob has charm and wit,
So funny he gives me fits
With his dead body count and fu,
I'd just like to tell all of you
His column ain't a pile of ----.
Ana de la Rosa
Arlington, Tex.
Dear Ana:
It's not?
© 1989 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved