America's Deadliest Home Video

"Joe Bob's Drive-In" for 8/21/95

cutline: Danny Bonaduce gets busted--again--in the hilarious cheapie "America's Deadliest Home Video."

By Joe Bob Briggs

Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas

Only in California.

People keep getting kicked off the O.J. jury for "planning to write a book."

First of all, WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?

Nine million people a day decide their life is so danged fascinating they'll write a book about it, but none of them ever actually DO IT.

And those who DO do it--the two or three who actually scratch it out--can't write worth a flip, so they can't sell it.

You might as well kick people off the jury for vowing to "move to Hawaii after this is all over." Cause they're not gonna do THAT, either.

But let's assume there WAS a publisher who decided to buy one of these juror's stories, and go up against the Joe McGinnis book, and the Dominick Dunne book, and the ten other books that will already be out by the time it's over.

I'm still wondering, "What the heck difference does it make?"

We'd just have an eyewitness account of a year of claustrophobic living and bickering and a boring retelling of the jury deliberations. Or, if we really lucked out, an EXCITING retelling of the jury deliberations.

But the idea seems to be, "Well, if the guy is writing a book, then he won't be a fair juror."

Why not?

Let's assume he's biased as hell. Which way is he gonna vote to make his book come out better? Guilty or innocent?

If O.J. is guilty, it's a great trial story.

If O.J. is innocent, it's STILL a great trial story.

So how could this possibly affect the outcome of the trial. He's just gonna go ahead and vote his conscience and then write about it. The last time I looked, it wasn't illegal to write about something.

But what I really wanna know is, "How did the judge FIND OUT they were writing books?"

Apparently they were taking notes, and the notes were seized by deputies, and blah blah blah.

What a bunch of dummies.

All they had to do was sit through the trial, then ORDER A TRIAL TRANSCRIPT! They could probably even get a publisher to pay for it. Heck, they could probably just watch the Court TV videos that are ALREADY being released. Every day's coverage would remind them of what was happening behind the scenes on that day. They could reconstruct it. And VOILA! Half-million advance from Grove/Atlantic.

I've done three-hour interviews during which I've written down NOTHING--to give the person the IMPRESSION that I was not going to print what he was saying. I had it all on tape anyway.

This stuff is easy. What we should really be worried about is people so dumb they can't figure out how to do it, sitting on the jury of the most celebrated trial of the century.

Speaking of great American stories, "America's Deadliest Home Video" is the best B-movie release of the year, and the only one absolutely NO ONE has seen. They're having a rough time getting the word out on this baby, in spite of the top-notch performance of the legendary Danny Bonaduce, of "Partridge Family" and substance abuse fame.

Danny plays a nerdy husband who's in love with his camcorder, and the whole movie is his attempt to record his life "for posterity." Unfortunately, his desire for more and more reality results in getting his wife on tape while having sex--with another man. Thinking quickly, he steals the family van and sets off across America, doing goofball poses in cornfields, bird-dogging women on the streets of Chicago, and eventually filming a guy who pushes a stolen car off a cliff into a rock quarry in Wisconsin. Jump-cut to: a crazed woman with a shotgun staring down the barrel of his fish-eye lens, asking him what the F is up.

Welcome to the Clint Dryer gang--three convenience store specialists who decide they kinda like having their exploits recorded on tape. And pretty soon we've got "Spinal Tap" meets "Natural Born Killers."

Every scene of the flick is seen through Danny's viewfinder, which sounds like it might get kinda old, but it doesn't a-tall. In fact, the psycho killer gang leader eventually decides he wants to do a little camera work of his own, starring his abused blonde girlfriend and her Victoria's Secret wardrobe, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

One of the finest movies ever made in Racine, Wisconsin.

Thirteen dead bodies. Four breasts. Aardvarking. Car shoved off a cliff. Three shootouts. Aardvarkus interruptus. Two fistfights. Gratuitous Jet-skiing. Marijuana Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Gretchen Bonaduce, as the cheating wife who doesn't like a fish-eye lens being used for closeups of her nose; Mick Wynhoff, as the starry-eyed sociopath who says "She's a bitch, but she's a great shot"; Mollena Williams, as the charming shotgun-wielding trigger-woman, for saying "I'm going to watch you die like a pig"; Danny Bonaduce, as the video nerd who falls in love with the gun moll; Melora Walters, as the bimbo girlfriend who doesn't feel like she gets enough interview time; and Jack Perez, the writer/director, for doing things the drive-in way.

Four stars.

Joe Bob says check it out.

(If you have trouble finding this one, drop me a line and I'll send you the ordering information.)

JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS

Victory Over Development Fu! The Sumner Drive-In, on Highway 31E in Gallatin, Tenn., is holding out against the mega-development in the Nashville area, with a new screen, a large snack bar (popcorn two bucks a tub), and $4 for a double feature. The Sumner is also just down the road from the eighth wonder of the world, the late Conway Twitty's "Twitty City." Dr. Todd Wyatt of Nashville 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 Joe Bob's world-famous newsletter, "The Joe Bob Report," write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221, or Fax him at 214-985-7448, or e-mail him via CompuServe: 76702,1435.

Greetings Joe Bob,

I just had to write and thank you for your encouraging words about "Even Hitler Had a Girlfriend." Even my wife Sarah (who hated the film) felt compelled to give it another chance after reading your column.

(Now that I think about it, maybe she's just bitter because I cast her as the ill-tempered call girl who kills Marcus Templeton at the end of the movie.)

Thanks again and best wishes always.

Sincerely,

Ronnie Cramer

Scorched Earth Productions

Denver

Dear Ronnie:

Are you telling me your wife does NOT put "Even Hitler Had a Girlfriend" on her resume?

Dear Mr. Briggs,

I've just finished reading your column "I Say It's Fake, and I Say to Heck With It." Much of the time I understand your perspective, but I think you're missing the point of the new bioengineering technology. Since high school I've spent countless Friday and Saturday nights watching Fright Night, or Chiller Theaters, or whatever the local independent stations called it. I've seen hosts who belong IN their stage-prop crypts (maybe all these John Carradine lookalikes prove your point about genetic tampering after all); I've seen enough stage fog to cover the entire San Joaquin Valley three feet deep (as if it weren't already); I've seen movies so bad they remind me of real life. But in 20 years of B movies I've never seen a pizza that could deliver itself.

Think of it. No more surly delivery people unable or unwilling to break a twenty; no more congealed cheese-like food product; no more gooey crusts, indistinguishable from the cardboard packing. Imagine watching "Attack of the Mushroom People" when the doorbell rings, and you come face-to-face with life imitating art. Only in America, I say, and only when we give the scientists and bioengineers free reign.

It's like I always say--without chemicals, life itself would be pointless.

Yours in the hope of "living color,"

David Cranford

San Francisco

Dear David:

But would the self-delivering pizza eliminate the need for those giant cardboard boxes with the grease spot in the middle? I'm all for progress, but let's not destroy every trace of Americana.

Dear Joe Bob:

I'm a political junkie who entered a state of enlightenment of how junky politics really is when I tuned into your coverage of the 1992 national conventions. You were superb. Truly funny.

Stumbled on your book, literally, at my favorite neighborhood book store where you can also get a quick espresso fix. Heady combo.

By the way, you must have one helluva mailing list. Have you ever thought about something along the lines of an achy breaky lonely hearts club for singles (and married guys who have agreements with their wives)? Gee, now that I think about it, you could even enroll the geeks with an online network through Prodigy. We Americans are such joiners, aren't we?

Anyway, have to get back to the business of business. A sense of community is comforting.

Best regards,

Gail Crane

Philadelphia

Dear Gail:

A singles club for geeks?

Hell, honey, I don't need to start that. I been in that all my life.

Attention Joe Bob:

Communist Alert! Cruising is a lot like drive-ins--super-American, lots of fun, etc. As you often say, IT CAN HAPPEN HERE (police state). Even in the town that gave the world "American Graffiti," totalitarian law enforcement backed by gay City Council are trying to change the greatest American Cruise and Northern California Bitch Show into a craft fair. Check the handbill.

[Modesto Police Department brochure explaining the "no cruising" ordinance]

With red, white and blue loyalty and vigilance,

Don Expletive Deleted Crum

Modesto, Calif.

Dear Don:

You have cruise-control officers out there?

Please. And I thought Northern California was the ultimate "free party" zone.

Dear Heart,

We all live on the holodeck. We are all just energy. If "we" stepped outside the holodeck, "we" would disappear like a bubble of dust. "Ergo Go Gito" is about the SUM of it. What you THINK you know is what you THINK you are.

Now, the only reason I say what I say is because the existentialists say that it doesn't make any difference WHAT I say. The Zen non-verbal truth is that it doesn't make any difference what the existentialists say, and they can PROVE it. ATTITUDE doesn't require that ANYTHING be . . . said or NOT said. I recognize beauty by myself.

Never call a moron an idiot. "Idio" means individual, as in IDIOsyncracy. An IDIOT is "one who is not concerned by public matters," like YOU.

Stupid people are "intellectually challenged."

Boy Scouts are "Male, Height-aspiring, Youth" Scouts.

Women were made for love. Lesbians are REAL HUMAN BEINGS. Men were made for war. They are the missing link between ape and artist.

Penis envy is a male fallacy. There's more Venus envy.

Rednecks are "Heritage deprived."

Critics are people who mistake sarcasm for cynicism. Predominately THIRD in family birth order, they began their careers as tattle-tales. They do not know how much they do not know. SUGGESTIONS are not their strong suit. Their BEST put-down is the truth.

The source of the Nile River is the human tear duct. Nihilists are people who live along, and fish in, the Nile River.

Not voting is a GOOD choice. Voting is just like feeding wild animals. First they grab, ungratefully, what you offer, then they steal, then they attack you violently in democracy where the people are involved in the formulation of the law, leader selection is by LOT, from among qualified (i.e. age, residence, non-felon, etc.) aspirants, not just voting for or against what people who can afford TV ad time want.

Not only is a majority opinion no more apt to be correct than a minority opinion, recent polls of non-voters show that they do not break down statistically different on the issues than voters. More voting just means more or the same old. With a lottery, one would "win" mayor, congressman, senator, president. Aristocrats--out! Citizens--in!

Tattoos are attractive to other people who like tattoos. It is a mark. It means "I own me." The "authorities" identify people who get tattoos as having "anti-social" tendencies." What they mean is that they are FREE THINKERS. "Experts" tell us long lists of rules about what correct spelling consists of and what is and is not socially acceptable expression and behavior. But they have nothing ELSE to say. They perish long before they die.

You are different from, not different THAN people who define themselves by whether or not they have a tattoo. It's nowhere near as painful as catching Wee Willy Winky in a zipper. The best way to get a tattoo removed is not to get it in the first place. Design it yourself. Don't have it where you have to see it all the time. Screw outdoors. Give thanks. Enjoy.

Isle of "U,"

Russ Crim

San Mateo, Calif.

Dear Russ:

I forgot the question.

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