"Joe Bob Goes to the
Drive-In" for 4/6/90
cutline: Hubbie nominees Wynona
Ryder, Christian Slater in "Heathers," the first movie that had
something GOOD to say about teenage suicide
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine,
Texas
I
guess you've heard about the disaster at this year's Drive-In Academy Awards
ceremonies. I've never been so humiliated since . . . well . . . since LAST
year's Drive-In Academy Awards.
The
Hubbies, as they're known to drive-in fans on three continents, were announced
AS USUAL, to be held at Paul's Lamplighter Lounge in Kokomo, Indiana. The
entertainment, AS USUAL, was announced as Sherry "The Snake Woman"
Wilcox, also known as The Walking United Way Agency. I've announced the same
location, and the same entertainment, for four straight years, and, AS USUAL,
nobody ever shows up to accept their award. So normally I give out the awards
whenever and wherever I feel like it, sometimes on KGO-TV in San Francisco,
sometimes on The Movie Channel, sometimes on the radio. One year we had a
ceremony at the Gemini Drive-In in Dallas. And, of course, Arnold
Schwarzenegger is the only person ever to actually show up to receive his
award. Unfortunately, Arnold didn't understand what the award was for.
So
this year was going along, AS USUAL, with interest in the Hubbies at
room-temperature pitch. But, the week before the Oscars, I went on "The
Tonight Show" and mentioned, casually, that the Hubbies would be at Paul's
Lamplighter Lounge in Kokomo, Indiana. Jay Leno didn't exactly seem impressed.
And then, on the Saturday night before the Oscars, Connie Chung ANNOUNCED IN
PRIME TIME that the Hubbies would be the same night as the Oscars, at Paul's
Lamplighter Lounge in Kokomo, Indiana.
Evidently
Connie has a VERY literal understanding of things.
So,
on the morning of the Oscars, I was in Phoenix, basking like a sand lizard at
the big hoo-haw cable TV sales meeting, and I started getting bombarded with
messages.
"The
Kokomo paper is on the phone."
"People
in Indianapolis wanna drive up for the awards--do you have directions?"
"The
radio station at Indiana University wants to cover the awards."
"There's
a guy at the Lamplighter Shop in Kokomo who's calling up to complain." (It
turned out to be a light-fixture store.)
"The
Kokomo paper is on the phone again. They're demanding a statement."
"This
woman called to say there is no place in Kokomo called Paul's Lamplighter
Lounge."
"The
Kokomo paper wants more than a statement. They want an interview."
"Some
guy just called to tell you that Paul's Lamplighter Lounge closed about four
years ago."
"The
paper wants to know if you were so irresponsible as to make up the name of a
non-existent bar."
"There's
a Kokomo bar owner calling who says you can use his place for the awards if you
want to."
"You
have about thirty Faxes. Do you want me to read them to you? Everybody wants to
know where the awards show is."
"The
Kokomo paper says they really hope you WILL come and do the awards ceremony in
Kokomo, even if it's not tonight."
"The
guy at the Lamplighter Shop is pretty steamed."
"Some
guy in Houston is listed in the phone book as J.B. Briggs. He's pretty steamed,
too."
Up
till now, I have maintained silence on this matter, issuing only a
two-paragraph statement to the fine investigative journalists at The Kokomo
Tribune, who were the first to verify that Paul's Lamplighter Lounge does not,
in fact, exist. However, I wish to challenge the recent attacks on my character
with the following additional statement:
At
the time I announced the location for the 1989 Drive-In Academy Awards, I had
no knowledge that Paul's Lamplighter Lounge did not exist. In fact, since this
raft of publicity, we have had two independent witnesses, residents of Kokomo,
state that "there WAS a place called Paul's Lamplighter Lounge, but it
closed four years ago."
Obviously
I'm shocked. I feel partly responsible. If I had thought to book the room
earlier, perhaps Paul's could have been saved.
As
to the Kokomo managing editor's opinion that I engaged in "irresponsible
journalism," I wish to point out that it was Connie Chung, who had far
more resources than I had, who had, in fact, an entire network news team at her
disposal, who had a whole staff of producers working directly for her, who should
have verified the existence of Paul's Lamplighter Lounge. Obviously, CBS News,
which prides itself on being the world's greatest news-gathering force, would
NEVER have reported such a thing had it not been for the prior existence of
Paul's Lamplighter. No doubt Connie herself had had cocktails there.
And,
finally, there was a question as to whether this invalidated this year's
Hubbies, or otherwise affected their authenticity. ON THE CONTRARY. With the
great outpouring of support for the Hubbies in Kokomo, measures are being taken
now by the Drive-In Academy to hold the ceremony there EVERY YEAR.
I've
booked the room already. Next year's awards will be held at the Rib Shack on
Federal Highway 31.
But
now, the long-awaited, long-delayed results of the 1989 Drive-In Academy
Awards:
BEST WRITER
Daniel Waters, "Heathers," for
making poetry out of words like "phlegm glob."
BEST DIRECTOR
Joseph Zito, "Red Scorpion."
BEST BAD GUY
Wings Hauser, "L.A. Bounty," as
the sleazeball who forces a guy to get inside a wooden crate, says "Hard
to breathe?" and shoots the crate full of holes.
BEST DIALOGUE
Christian Slater, "Heathers":
"Maybe I AM killing everyone in the school, but nobody loves me."
BEST GROSSOUT SCENE (tie)
Charles Bronson forcing a guy to eat a
Rolex in "Kinjite."
And . . .
Hulk Hogan wearing peach panties in
"No Holds Barred."
BEST ACTOR
Eric Stoltz, the half-human half-insect
mutant man-child in "The Fly II."
BEST ACTRESS
Cheryl Lawson, "The Dead Pit," as
the gal who has her memory cut out with a surgical icepick, one of the finest
screamers in movie history.
BREAST ACTRESS
Brigitte Nielsen, "Bye Bye Baby,"
who wears a white mini-dress slit up to here, aerobic leotards, bikinis, and
nothing at all, creating a new thunder-thighed fashion statement called
Scandinavian Buffalo.
And finally--could we have a drumroll
please?--
BEST FLICK
"Mutant on the Bounty," the story
of a horribly mutilated saxophone player with a face that looks like a can of
Raviolios who's rescued by a Gilligan's Island spaceship full of singles-bar
rejects.
Remember: Next year in Kokomo.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE
HOPELESS
Communist Alert! The Texan Drive-In in
Midland, Tex., has been closed and turned into . . . a billboard for Japanese
cars. Jeff Brookings is a humiliated Midland native who reminds us that, without
eternal vigilance, it can happen here. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe
Bob, or to get free junk and 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.
Bonjour Monsieur Joe,
I'm Caroline, 25 years old, born in Paris
and living there!!
I liked a lot your paper about France and
Mickey Mouse (a friend send it to me from states) and told myself, I must tell
him more about us.
You hate us. Don't be cruel, don't lie! You
LOVE us because we're so stupid. You love us because of our arrogance and you
love us because of our stupid pride!!!
Exactly the same way we love you because of
your vision of Big USA because you're so good psychologists. We love the way
you have no history and no good manners.
We love you Americans because you're so
different than we are and that's why you love us!!!
And that's why we hate us too!!
Jack Lang (the only "Jack" we've
got and not Jaques) boycotts American movies. Okay! But how would poor Jack
stand there if he could only see American movies and didn't understand one
single word!!
Who would buy our Renault car if we could
have an American "ship"? Okay! You've talked about "A Man and a
Woman" being very boring indeed. Didn't you see "Betty Blue"?
Didn't you like it or couldn't you tell you liked it!! Tsss!!! I love you, Joe,
because you're funny and I think you're even more funny than Jerry Lewis. Come
to Paris and enjoy being an American guy because French girls love American guys
and because you love French girls! N'est-ce pas?
Come to Paris and enjoy being American
because the "American dream" is very French in its basement, and
don't be jealous we're so stupid. You're as stupid too!
You're more French than I am because you
take French people so seriously and no one ever takes French people seriously!
JAMAIS!!!!
We are not serious. Ask a German what he
thinks of us. He doesn't hate us. He laughs, that's all! That's why I hate
Germans! No FUN, Hey Bob! NO FUN! Let us hate Germans together and Japanese but
we're so likely.
Okay, I'll give the final statement: Do you
know why the French symbol is a hen?
Because she still sings with the two feet
in the manure. Funny, isn't it?
Au revoir, a'
bientot,
Caroline Kremer
Paris, France
Dear Caroline:
I've been spreading that French joke
about the chicken with the two feet in the manure all over the American bars,
and I'm a very popular guy now.
I can't believe I ever underestimated
the French so badly.
Mr. Briggs,
How many ex-wives do you have? I've lost
count. A friend of mine wants their phone numbers, because being the manly stud
you are, you could really attract some winners. If you don't have their
numbers, Cherry Dilday's will do just fine. Or even Ugly-on-a-Stick's.
Jesika Guglielmino
Fresno, Calif.
Dear Jesika:
I love all four of my conniving,
gold-digging ex-wives. They all have 900 numbers. Just dial 1-900-SOAKHIM.
I also forgive them and wish them well.
Dear Joe Bob:
I have been away on the tour with my
Campaign for Alcoholics Salvation and Hope (C.A.S.H.) program. We managed to
help three drunks this year. If you can spare a few hundred dollars perhaps we
can help more. Make your check payable to C.A.S.H.
Cordially,
Reverend Bob Harris
Huntsville, Tex.
Dear Reverend Bob:
Do you realize it only takes 14 bottles
of Thunderbird to feed a wino for a week? We have so much. They need so little.
Let's fork it over this year.
Dear Joe Bob,
Do you take free-lance reporters on the
number of bicep flashes, breasts and luxury chest hair in contemporary movies?
L. Patricia Kite
Newark, Calif.
Dear Pat:
Luxury chest hair?
Is this another one of those Helsinki
Formula deals?
Dear Joe Bob,
There's only been one time that I disagreed
with one of your movie reviews. It was Lyle Alzado's movie where he played the
freaked out killer who they couldn't barbeque in the electric chair. It had too
much too fast towards the end of the movie. When the girl goes to get something
and she then finds everyone dead. Although I did like the dude's head on the
copy machine. It was a flashback of the monster movies but with a piece of
modernization. Because of everything being done in that quick five minutes I
had to give it three and a half stars where you gave it four stars.
Sincerely,
Chris
"Slimbo" Jones
Paducah, Ky.
Dear Chris:
But "Destroyer" made up for it
when Anthony Perkins got his eyeballs popped out of his face. Don't you think
we can forgive a little quick-cutting when Lyle gets to use Tony's head as a
plunger?
© 1990 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved