"Joe Bob's Drive-In" for 6/26/95
cutline: Patti Davis just says yes in her "Playboy Celebrity Centerfold."
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
Have you heard this one?
"Maybe if we have a baby, the marriage will get better."
So lemme get this straight. We're takin a couple of people who are arguing every day about how much money you should spend on a pair of high heels, or whether the orange juice is fresh, and you're betting that all you need to inject into that relationship is a seven-pound doo-doo machine that will soon grow into a furniture-chewing air raid siren. THIS is gonna save your goldurn marriage.
Or how about this one?
"Even if me and Darrell don't stay together, the baby will give me somebody to grow old with."
Aren't we puttin a lot of pressure on the fetus here?
Aren't we announcin to the little developing blob that, "Hey, guy, as soon as you pop out of there, we've got some WORK for you to do here"?
You might as well start the kid in therapy at age two. Cause at age 42, he's gonna be sittin in some New York psychiatrist's office, saying, "I love my mother. I really do. She was just always so . . . I don't know . . . she WANTED THINGS FROM ME."
Then what happens when little junior turns 14, gets his nose pierced, comes home from school with a switchblade, and says, "Where's my father? I wanna live with HIM!"
Of course, I guess if the original theory is correct, you can go in the back room where he's rattlin the newspaper and pickin lint off his socks and say, "Hey, Darrell, he wants you now! I KNEW this would keep the marriage together."
But somehow I think Darrell's gonna be in Vegas living with somebody named Jennifer, and Jennifer is NOT gonna be happy when junior drives up on his Harley.
Hey! Here's an idea!
Let's have babies when we feel GOOD about our marriages.
Let's have babies so that they can go live ANOTHER life, AWAY from us.
Naw, I guess it's too old-fashioned, isn't it? This is the nineties, right?
There was an article in The New York Times last week about women with AIDS having babies so they would FEEL BETTER before they die. Even though the baby's got a 20 per cent chance of coming down with AIDS, too.
Listen to me, people:
GO GET THERAPY FROM A GROWNUP.
All these one-year-old psychiatrists are giving out lousy advice.
You know what I'm saying here?
If you can't figure it out, TIE THOSE TUBES, HONEY. Join a religious cult that doesn't believe in sex. Take a mambo class. Watch some self-help infomercials. Just don't take it out on the fetus, okay?
I'm surprised I have to tell you this.
Speaking of babies that are born into a "Twilight Zone" episode, this week's flick is the "Playboy Celebrity Centerfold" video of . . . Patti Davis. This video is, quite simply, one of the most amazing documents of American pop culture since Doris Wishman's classic transsexual documentary, "Let Me Die a Woman."
It opens with Ronald Reagan's 41-year-old bundle of joy running through a tropical jungle in a cave-girl bikini as she says "I feel like I've spent most of my life running away from who I am." And then she leaps off a 40-foot cliff into a pool of water at the foot of a waterfall, coming up full-frontal nekkid as she lounges on rocks and touches herself.
Patti is making a political statement here. Patti lets us know that she's making a statement about freedom of expression, feminism, fantasy life, childhood, kickboxing, S&M, and the importance of small-breasted women over the age of 40 being accepted as the wonderful Playboy sex objects that could be more often if society would JUST GIVE EM A CHANCE.
Go, girl, go.
I love this woman. Most of the video is Patti's fantasies, like the time she was a topless dancer in a totalitarian state who had to be rescued by an independent young woman who looks exactly like her (Patti in a dual role). We also see Patti's fantasy of "the human body as a piece of sculpture," wherein a guy chisels a marble sculpture of her while two nekkid bodybuilders put their hands all over her, opera music plays, and she does a sexy dance with chiffon veils.
Next we learn of Patti's weakness for "guys in undershirts and tattered jeans that end up being your downfall"--a preference that is somehow related to her memories of body-surfing with her father as a child. "Water has always been a very healing thing for me," she says, right before a hunk walks out of the surf and starts kissing every inch of her hula-skirted bod.
But that's not all. There's a kickboxing sequence, in which she works out on the heavy bag and dances nekkid in the ring to a blues rock tune. There's a truly weird sci-fi fantasy where she dresses like a hooker, dials up the perfect man AND the perfect woman on her computer, then waits for them to appear in a cloud of dry ice, tie her to the bed, and basically make her into a sandwich.
But the strangest of all, for me, is when she tells a story about asking Daddy whether it's true that every time a star falls it means an angel dies. Daddy's answer: "Angels never die." Cut to the original song, "Angels Never Die," illustrated by Patti in a white dress, wind-blown air, room full of candles, everything in white, reclining on a red couch and making love to herself.
Whew! Those Republicans have a lot more going on than we give em credit for. Family values indeed.
Ninety breasts. Gratuitous topless dancing. Unbearable disco song called "I Gotta Be Free." Laser explosions. Close-up shower. Ray-gun Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Patti Davis, for revealing with embarrassment that she settled her "huge dilemma" in the 1980 election by NOT VOTING AT ALL, for ripping all her clothes off at the drop of a bra strap, and for saying "I look at nudity as an art form"; Victoria Zdrak, the sweet-faced blonde Russian cutie who makes up the second feature on this tape, for dancing topless like a maniac; and Hugh Hefner, for making this kind of cultural statement possible.
Four stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Victory Over Commies! The Trail Drive-In, on Tucker Road in Hood River, Ore., remains open and remains financially healthy in spite of Oregon going to pot the last few years. They even have a good strong radio sound system. Sam Graham of Des Moines, Ia., 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.
Dear Joe Bob Briggs;
I seldom get to read your wonderful column because I'm a very busy man. As a result, I'm sure you've probably brought up the following two points, but maybe not. Here goes.
Since gays want civil rights laws like those covering minorities, does this mean the next step will be affirmative action and job quotas for gays?
Since military women pilots want to fly in combat (as they should be allowed to do), should their desires be taken to the next logical step? Namely, affirmative action for women ground troops as well? That's right. Give women the opportunity to do all the fighting, since they've been denied this right for more than 200 years.
Thanks for your time.
Sincerely,
Lynn Duane Burton
Carbondale, Colo.
Dear
Lynn Duane:
It sounds like the solution to both
these problems is "Hire lesbians."
I'm in favor of this. We call our movement "Let the Lesbos Do It."
Hey Joe Bob,
[Article enclosed, "A rodeo of a different brand," about protesters claiming the gay rodeo abuses animals]
Ever get the feeling that some people have too much free time?
Willy Read Bush
Atherton, Calif.
Dear
Willy Read:
It's those lesbian steer wrestlers.
Joe Bob,
Okay. Okay. Here it is the nineties. We've got "windmilling" in the Bronx, "Water Buffaloes" at the University of Pennsylvania, and at Konocti Harbor (somewhere in California) we've got BACHMAN TURNER OVERDRIVE playing on August 19.
I do believe a visit to the latter is my cure for the decade. Please send financial assistance. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Michael Bumbeck
San Francisco
Dear
Michael:
That's nothing.
Art Garfunkel has a solo act.
Dear Joe Bob:
A whole bunch of so-called "movie critics" list movies that they recommend to watch for the holidays. I am anxious to learn what your recommendations are for this holiday season. Another thought. Don't ya just hate movie critics? They're always wrong.
Kind regards,
J.M. Busse
Petaluma, Calif.
Dear
J.M.:
I like all the classics at Christmastime: "Silent Night, Deadly Night, Parts 1-5," and, of course, "Santa's Little Secret."
Dear Mr. Briggs:
Hello. How ya doing? Actually, I didn't write to ask you that--I did it to ask you a big favor. I was wondering if you could help me out in this big race for treasurer of Alpha Epsilon Delta, which is the pre-doctor fraternity, down here at UT. You see, the elections for the officers of this group are Thursday, April 30, and I don't know what to do. I'm running against this guy named Todd from Richardson and we're about dead even as far as credentials go. So I thought to myself--I says, "Aaron, what you need is an endorsement." And then I said, "What?" So I answered, "An endorsement--you know, like, have somebody say they like you." "Oh," I said, "Okay." And that's when it hit me--Joe Bob Briggs! I think if I could get you to say you think I'll be a good treasurer, there'd be no way for Todd to win. EVERYBODY in Austin loves Joe Bob! So I was thinking could you maybe say I could do it? I know I could just TELL them you like me, but I don't want to lie--so I need to get your permission first. Lemme give you a run-down of my credentials and qualifications:
* Was financial consultant for Dwayne in the third Grade--I told him what was a fair price to take from the kindergarteners (you see, I'm a pacifist--I can't stand unnecessary violence, and I didn't want to see no little kids getting beat up or anything); I only took 60 per cent of what he stole from them, too; I
* Calculated odds on Cowboys games for our annual Byrd Family Gambling Month (October); I was more lenient with my family--I only took 40 per cent of everybody's winnings; I
* Got an A on a math test in the 10th Grade (it was multiple choice); I
* Can read; I
* Got into UT; I
* Am a good, honest Southern Babtist (I even started the "Drive-In Jesus Is Lord" Wednesday Night Bible Study and Craps Shoot here at UT); I
* Used to balance my mom's checkbook, and I
* Own a calculator.
So there it is--you can mull it over for awhile and see if you think you like me better than Todd from Richardson. But, like I say, the elections are this Thursday night; so, if you could, I'd preciate it if you could give me a quick call on the phone tween now and then just to say I can say your name during my speech. And, like I say, I'd really preciate it if you could. Just two minutes of your time. That's all I ask. Really. Honest. Please? I'm running out of reasons that I'm better than that Todd guy, and you're my last hope. Thanks very much. I am
Much indebted (to you and others, if you know what I mean),
Aaron Byrd
Austin, Tex.
Dear
Aaron:
I fully support your candidacy for
Treasurer of the pre-doc frat.
However, since I didn't open this letter till it was WAY too late, I hope you'll be gracious in what I'm sure was unconditional defeat.
Dear Joe Bob,
I KNOW this is as trivial as hell, but (as is the case with any lover of picky-ass details) I saw something on the front page of your newsletter that I HAD to tell someone about. Might as well be you . . .
In the picture of Rutger Hauer in "Split Second," there is a slip of paper next to his shoulder. Written on the paper is "Roy Batty Lives." Roy Batty was the name of the "replicant" Hauer played in "Blade Runner." I wonder who stuck that paper there, anyway?
Don't you feel better knowing this?
Bye,
Dan Busha
Albany, N.Y.
Dear
Dan:
Actually, I just feel nerdier.
That's okay, it's a GOOD nerdy.
© 1995 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved