"Joe Bob Goes to the Drive-In" for 1/15/93
cutline: When Charlie Spradling finds a vampire in the audience, she doesn't what any self-respecting topless dancer would do--invites him onto the stage--in "To Sleep With a Vampire."
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
I've been noticing for a long time now that we're changing from a dog country to a cat country.
When did this cat thing happen? Next time somebody sends me a cat greeting card, I'm gonna take a meat tenderizer to a long-haired Persian and send you a raw furburger back in the mail.
We used to be a nation of Dog People. Dogs were considered NORMAL PETS. People liked dogs because they had personalities like Willard Scott. They never stop moving, they notice everybody, they like to go run around outside in bad weather, and they eat a lot.
Dogs are social. They're polite. They act like they need you more than you need them.
Dogs are sloppy and goofy. They run around eating other people's garbage, forcing neighbors to deal with them.
Dogs need attention. Because dogs know THEY'RE IN A WORLD WITH OTHER BEINGS.
What does that tell you about the big switcheroo from dogs to cats? It tells you that there's WAY too many people sitting around in their duplex apartments playing Tetris and watching 347 channels on cable. No wonder they like cats. What does a cat like to do?
A cat likes to sit on top of the TV set. BY HIMSELF.
A cat doesn't even want you WATCHING him sit on the TV set.
A cat eats like Donald Trump. He knows it's time to eat. He knows someone will prepare his food, serve his food, and remove his dirty dishes when he's finished. But HE DOESN'T CARE WHO IT IS.
When a cat does notice you, it's so he can REMIND you of how lucky you are to have him living in your house.
A cat, in other words, is a Republican.
If a dog is Willard Scott, then a cat is Barbara Walters. She might ask you a few questions once in a while, but she's not gonna form any lasting emotional attachments. Willard honestly CARES about 102-year-old grannies living in Wheeling, West Virginia. Barbara doesn't even leave Fifth Avenue unless you've been on the cover of Time.
Don't you think we've carried this cat thing far enough?
Can't we go back to the days when everybody had big ole dirty mutts with oversized paws that would jump up on the sofa and lick the face of the preacher when he came over on Thursday night?
Are you telling me people PREFER to live with beings who only express emotion when coughing up furballs on the linoleum? Creatures that think it's YOUR job to BUY soft material so they'll feel comfortable about going to the bathroom?
We'd better hurry up, though. Any day it could be too late. The cats will be hiring agents and lawyers.
Speaking of nasty animals that like to lick things, Charlie Spradling stars in "To Sleep With a Vampire" as a lonely topless dancer who gets taken home by a vampire and ends up thinking it's kinda kinky. Charlie is the fastest-rising B-movie queen in the business, ever since she amazed cable audiences in "Kiss of the Beast" about four years ago, back when her name was just "Charlie." I guess she added the "Spradling" to make it sound more sexy. I hear the word "Spradling," and I just go all gooey inside.
In "Kiss of the Beast" she played a sex-crazed vampire lover, but since then she's been working very hard on her acting, doing a lot of movies and TV, stretching those acting muscles (if you know what I mean and I think you do), until today she can play . . . well . . . I guess she's still playing a sex-crazed vampire lover.
Anyway, this is one of those "modern" vampire stories, where the vampire is really a sensitive guy, and he would prefer NOT to suck all Charlie's blood out and leave her dead body in a Dempster Dumpster. Ever since Scott Valentine, the vampire, saw her performing in a black bustier in a topless bar, he knew she was different. She wasn't just a $1.99 pancake breakfast at Denny's to this guy. She was a four-course dinner at McDonald's, WITH salad bar.
So after he takes her home on his motorcycle, confesses he's a vampire, and asks her to "tell me about the day," he reminds her that, yes, at dawn he'll be required by legend and his nature to digest her like a Swanson's TV dinner. But meanwhile, "Let's party!" And so they do, riding around with a gonzo cab driver, visiting her little boy for one last time, making out on the beach, and finally aardvarking all over the place in the topless bar. It's only when Mickey's little hand points to five that Charlie knows something needs to happen REAL fast. So instead of having a cigarette, she takes a little cocktail from the guy's left forearm vein--and pretty soon we've got Duelling Fashion-Model Bloodsuckers in a REAL nineties relationship. It's not pretty.
Three dead bodies. Eight breasts. Three excellent topless routines. One motor vehicle chase, with fireball. Vampire aardvarking. Basting-fork-to-the-stomach. Barroom brawl. X-ray vision. Kung Fu. Topless Fu. Sunlight Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Scott Valentine, for saying "There's a dark part of your soul" and "I have to feed"; Charlie Spradling, for saying "You're not one of those bondage freaks or anything, are you?"; and Adam Friedman, the director, for making one of those "Is it art or is it exploitation?" films.
Four stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Victory Over Communism! The Sky-Vue Drive-In in Lamesa, Tex., is that rarest of species--an old-fashioned small-town country drive-in that still makes money. Owners Sam and Carolyn Kirkland bought the ten-acre theater for $12,500 in 1986, when drive-ins were considered worthless, and started restoring the screen (largest in Texas), the snack bar, the playground equipment and sound system. Admission is three bucks--two bucks on Wednesdays. P.H. Parker of Austin reminds us that, with eternal vigilance, the drive-in will never die.
To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get free junk in the mail and his world-famous "We Are the Weird" newsletter, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221. Joe Bob's Fax line is always open: 214-368-2310.
Joe Bob,
I was watching ABC "World News Tonight" last night (it's not something I'm proud of--"Three's Company" was a non-Chrissy episode) and there was a report on Japan doing American-bashing. They reported that in the newest Godzilla movie, the Americans are the bad guys. Do you know what this means? It means that Japan is still making Godzilla movies and not sending them over here. I can't believe that there is a trade embargo on Godzilla films. The last Godzilla film on these shores was "Godzilla '85," wasn't it? I think that we shouldn't send the Japanese any more teenage-mutant-slasher-prison films until they play fair and send over some Godzilla. Of course, they will have to change the ending, like they did in "King Kong vs. Godzilla." King Kong won over here and Godzilla won over there.
Best regards,
Gary Murray
Dallas
P.S. Did your fourth grade teacher make you write "Best regards" on the letters you had to send to your Texas Legislator?
Dear
Gary:
It became very difficult to sell the Godzilla films in America after Raymond Burr became larger than Godzilla.
Dear Joe Bob,
Here in Santa Cruz, California, a veritable utopia for us queers and fruits, I'm thinking of preaching to the local heathen. Don't forget, they're the ones with crewcuts and "I Love U.S. Imperialism" T-shirts. Do you have any material which might assist me and my cohorts in our mission?
Sincerely,
Tara M. Murray
Santa Cruz, Calif.
Dear
Tara:
Well . . . er . . . uh . . . why don't you start by putting on a community theater production of "La Cage Aux Folles." Once the Army guys get caught up in the play, they'll all start singing "I Am What I Ammmmm . . . "
Dear Joe Bob,
"Frankenhooker" is NOT Patty Mullen's first film. An earlier horror film (1987) titled "Doom Asylum" takes that honor.
Patty's in the August '86 and January '88 issues of "Penthouse." I think your readers would be interested!
Sincerely,
Tim Murphy
El Monte, Calif.
Dear
Tim:
You guys are always making me look bad.
You're right about "Doom
Asylum."
I missed those two spreads in Penthouse, because I only read Penthouse for the articles.
Dear Joe Bob,
Is there any significance to the name "Hubbies"?
Bachino,
Barbara Nichols
Riverside, Calif.
Dear
Barbara:
The Drive-In Academy Award is engraved
on a 1968 Oldsmobile hubcap. Hence the name "Hubbies."
I'm really surprised I have to tell you this.
Dear Joe Bob,
Although many of your highly informative and thought-provoking literary works have slid before my eyes, it was "The Modern Confession" on addictions that completely changed my life. Up until that time, I was completely content on just letting the natural flow of the paper and other forms of media control what I thought, but after hearing your confession I decided that I had to take control of what went into my mind. But then after a couple hours of meditating using a body sweep method, I finally centered on my pineal gland and was left with the reality of what I needed to do.
Looking at my busy schedule in academic life, I concluded that I just did not have the time to take personal control of what I thought and believed. And keeping a solid memory of your confession, I decided that I should let its author take control of what I thought. So with complete trust, I look forward to receiving "We Are The Weird," and whatever else you feel fit to send in the New England direction.
Every time I make my way down a street, whether well lit or not, your name and articles fill the air. When I walk into the local sports bars and mention your name, everyone stops talking and starts looking at me, so I leave. I walk into the cop station and walk right up to the desk and yell "Joe Bob" into the officer's ear and they start to follow me as I go for a jog through the town in order to learn more about you. Something tells me that Dallas is just one of those spiritual meccas. Can you enlighten me more on its power, history and geography?
Thank you for living and just being alive. My mail box is your mail box, trash can, propaganda file, mail-bomb drop off, or whatever else you want to make it.
In addiction,
Keith Nelson
Amherst, Mass.
Dear
Keith:
Okay, but let's not get maudlin.
© 1993 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved