"Joe Bob Goes to the Drive-In" for 10/11/91
cutline: Robert Davi, making only his 97th film appearance of this year, shows Tanya Roberts how those California shades are worn in "Legal Tender."
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
You know who I'm already sick of?
Robert "Tom-Tom" Bly.
What did that take, about two minutes?
Sorry to keep ragging on this guy--actually, that's a lie, I'm HAPPY to rag on this guy--but if I see another pathetic weenie sitting in a waiting room reading "Iron John" and figuring out how he can become more MANLY, I'm gonna puke all over this guy's wispy white hair.
You think the feminist movement was obnoxious? You don't know what you're talking about till you take some frustrated CPA's with "Mr. Peepers" glasses out in the woods and give em battle-axes and lances to play with. (For some idea, though, you might compare Vice President George "The Wimp" Bush, skulking around the White House like Eddie Haskell trying to score a free cookie, to the present "Iron George," who started the first Wild Man Weekend in Iraq.)
Lemme give you some advice, Bobby Bly. In Texas, EVERY weekend is Wild Man Weekend, especially in the bars on Harry Hines Boulevard. We have wives that car-pool to the jail on Monday morning. So here's some ways that you could save a whole heck of a lot of time.
1) Bobby says he wants to "bring the interior warrior back to life."
We already do this in Texas. The ritual begins with the following words: "Get your hands off my girlfriend."
Do you understand the power of this one concept, this single ritual chant? The effects of it can sometimes last 35 years in Huntsville State Prison. THAT's how powerful it is.
2) Bobby says we must learn to "ride the Red, the White and the Black Horses."
We already do this, too. When we're young, we learn to drive a Ford pickup. When we're older, we save our money till we can get a Chevy pickup with air conditioning and stereo. And finally, after we get married for the third time, all we can afford is a Toyota pickup.
3) Bobby recommends going out in the woods for three days to "find your Wild Man."
We do this in three hours. It's called "beer."
4) Bobby says, "You cannot become a man until your own father dies."
We don't like to wait that long in Texas. The way it works is, your old man whales the tar out of you for the first 15, 16 years of your life, until you get that first big growth spurt. Then one day you wake up and find out you can beat the crap out of HIM. You only have to do it one time, and they give you a drivers license.
5) Bobby says a man's goal should be "kingliness."
We do this, too. There's one right that no man, in his own home, will ever give up: the right to possession of the TV remote control at all times. We'll divorce any woman who challenges us on this.
6) And, finally, there's this drum thing. "The tom-tom honors the body as opposed to the mind," says Bobby.
We have a better way to honor the body. They're called topless bars.
Hey, Bobby, I got your men's movement right here.
And speaking of testosterone, the film debut we've all been waiting for is finally here. Morton Downey Jr. is a sleazoid coke-dealing hot-tubbing Texas savings-and-loan executive in the movie that makes you long for the return of his talk show--"Legal Tender." In Morton's big scene, he bugs out his eyes and rams an 18-inch meat cleaver through his henchman's heart three times--once "because I love it."
The plot is something about how Tanya Roberts owns a little bar in Venice, Calif., with a poker room in back, but she's behind on her payments, so she has to go to the hokiest S&L in town and put up her sleek bod as collateral. (Actually, when it gets down to the nitty gritty, in Robert Davi's bedroom, it's a STUNT body. Whatever happened to HONEST nudity in the movies?)
Robert Davi is making his 97th film appearance on this season--slowing down from last year's pace--and this time he's an ex-cop-turned-private-eye who's trying to figure out why everybody who works in Tanya's bar is turning up with multiple stab wounds in the stomach. (Answer: Morton's thugs are trying to find a computer disk. On the disk are listed such accounting categories as "Illegal Activities," "Skimming Customer's Funds" and "Cocaine Sales.")
To sum it all up: Seven dead bodies. Ten breasts. Two stunt breasts. Two gunbattles. One motor vehicle chase, with crash. Cheating at poker. No kung fu (plain old-fashioned fistfights). Junkie Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Wendy MacDonald, for getting spanked by Morton Downey Jr. and saying "She's gonna be the next bounce on your king-size Posturepedic, isn't she?"; Maria Rangel, as the pool-playing barmaid, for saying "You good at any other sports?"; Tanya Roberts, as the poker-dealing bar owner, for saying "That bitch treated me like a used pair of panty hose at a swap meet"; and, of course, Morton Downey Jr., for the teeth alone.
Two and a half stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Communist Alert! The Columbus Drive-In Theater, on 23rd Street in Columbus, Neb., was knocked down by the drive-in's biggest enemy for the past 15 years: Wal-Mart stores. The drive-in was famous because, during the sixties, the screen blew down in a tornado while "Gone With the Wind" was playing. Chad Plambeck of Hastings, Neb., warns that, with only one drive-in remaining in Nebraska, "the Big Red State has become the BIG RED STATE!" Karen Blessen, a Columbus native now living in Dallas, reminds us that, without eternal vigilance, it can happen here. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get free junk in the mail and Joe Bob's world-famous "We Are the Weird" newsletter, write Joe Bob, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221, or Fax him at 214-368-2310.
Dear Joe Bob,
I happened across a really great movie last night and thought of you: "Blood Diner," 1987.
Lots of bouncing breasts, gratuitous innard ripping. Stalactite Fu. Deep Fryer Fu. Eyeball popping, grave digging, bare butts, projectile vomiting--you've got to love it.
If you haven't already, check it out.
Barbara Rahe
San Rafael, Calif.
Dear
Barbara:
When people in Marin County start doing my job, I know civilization is near its end.
Joe Bob:
Who was the dog in "K-9"? He was such a better actor than Jim Belushi.
And how did the movie end? I couldn't bear to finish watching it. But I'd be upset if he removed Belushi's jugular and I missed it.
Philbert
San Antonio, Tex.
Dear
Philbert:
You'll be happy to know that the dog ran under a dumptruck and was mashed into a novelty carpet.
Dear Joe Bob,
In light of the recent passing of Mr. Entertainment (known to one 'n'all as "Samahla") I thought I should pass the attached letter on to you.
"Dear Les Bohem,
"Kudos to you, Mister.
"I mean, I thought you were JUST a great writer, but now I can see that you're a man of endless insight, impeccable standards and unarguable fine taste to boot. I am referring, of course, to your missive to one Joe Bob Briggs, in which you (rightly) take the man to task for his woeful lack of perspective on this whole blacksploitation brouhaha.
"As a gal who has actually made the pilgrimage to Vegas to witness Jerry and Samahla (sic), on one stage, giving their all for all them kids; as a gal who is not only FAMILIAR with 'Oceans Eleven,' but who would argue it as being one of the greatest single artistic contributions to the modern age, I think I can safely say that I'm squarely in your corner on this issue.
"It's good to know that there are men out there like you making sure that Samahla didn't give his all to this business we call show, for naught.
"Very sincerely yours,
"Cathy Rabin
"True Believer"
Other than this slight transgression on the whole blaxploitation thang, I think your column is real swell.
Sincerely,
Cathy Rabin
Show Biz Gal
Burbank, Calif.
Dear
Cathy:
I never said Samahla was not a part of the whole black explo thang, but I do think that we all have to face up to reality and admit that, once "Shaft" was released back in 72, The Samster really couldn't compete anymore. It was not like he was gonna buy an Uzi and start wasting honkeys. Frank wouldn't have liked it.
Dear Joe Bob,
HELP ME I'M LOST!
Ever since I left God's country I can't seem to find the quality movies you say "check it out" to. Why, just last week when I went down to our local Communist video rental store and asked for "Over-Sexed Rug Suckers From Mars" they told me to stand on a corner in Providence, wave a $20 bill around and I'd see one or two. And I did. But it's just not the same intestine-ripping, face-erasing, school-bus-crashing, one-breast-showing, green-lizard video-game-playing nuclear slime monster low-budget sleaze entertainment I've grown to love.
Please help me Joe Bob, you're my only hope!
Signed,
Pennyless in Providence
Providence, R.I.
Dear
Pennyless:
"Oversexed Rugsuckers From Mars" isn't out on video yet, but it is owned by Vista Street Entertainment, 9911 W. Pico Blvd., Penthouse M, Los Angeles, CA 90035. They're trying to figure out which planet to sell it on first.
Dear Joe Bob:
We were really impressed with your column on abortion.
It seems to me that a couple of national columnists have made the same point (anti-abortion activists should be required to adopt unwanted children), but no one has done it so compellingly and hilariously.
We'd like to shake your hand! If you're in the neighborhood, please drop by our Midtown Center.
Sincerely,
Sandy Patzman
Communications Coordinator
Planned Parenthood of Greater Kansas City
Kansas City, Mo.
Dear
Sandy:
I don't even say they have to do the whole job. I'd be satisfied if it was just a requirement to BELONG to one of the anti-abortion organizations. Adopt ONE kid and you can get in, say whatever you want. Otherwise, you're just another loudmouth.
© 1991 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved