Several of my cousins are movie stars now.
They got parts in the new Oliver Stone movie they’re making in Dallas called “JFK.” Oliver refuses to reveal what the letters “JFK” stand for, and if you ask him for a copy of the script, he sends six security guards to your house with “Riders on the Storm” blaring out of their ghetto blasters, and they won’t leave until you sign a statement that says, “I will never reveal what is in Oliver Stone’s movie, even after the movie comes out.”
In other words, “JFK” don’t stand for “Just For Kicks.” There’s some heavy security surrounding this project, and Oliver’s just a little touchy on the subject.
First he told the press, “I’m not saying it IS a conspiracy-theory movie, and I’m not saying it’s NOT a conspiracy-theory movie. Is this room bugged? I don’t think the whole story has been told, but, after all, we’re just making movies here. Are you CIA? I don’t think this is a valid issue to be discussed in the press. Marina Oswald’s KGB contact has, however, been following me for 12 years.”
I happen to have some opinions on this subject, mostly because my cousin Wilbur was hired as an extra to stand in Dealey Plaza carrying an umbrella that fired poison darts. Then there was my cousin Horace, who was part of the thirteen-man submachine-gun squad concealed behind the Grassy Knoll during the filming of the assassination scene. But most of my information comes from Blanche Verona, my sister-in-law, who was hired on the special effects crew. It was her job to wire Jackie Kennedy’s pillbox hat with a miniature spy camera.
I don’t mean to say this guy is paranoid, but, out of the 27,000 people who have come to Dallas over the last 30 years trying to prove conspiracy theories, Oliver Stone may be the number one loony in the bin. Remember the British guy who spent two years getting permission to dig up Lee Harvey Oswald’s body so he could check his teeth? Well, this movie is evidently WEIRDER than THAT.
First, it’s based on a book by Jim Garrison, the former New Orleans district attorney who’s done nothing for the last 25 years but invent NEW conspiracy theories, including one where Kennedy was killed by elephant handlers in the Barnum and Bailey Circus because he wasn’t doing enough to protect the endangered gorillas of Borneo.
Next, he hires Kevin Costner to BE JIM GARRISON IN THE MOVIE!
Let me repeat that.
The main role in the movie “JFK” is not JFK. It’s not LBJ. It’s not Governor Connally or Jackie or Chief Justice Warren or Lee Harvey Oswald or Jack Ruby. The main role in the movie is this FLAKE from Nawluns.
Of course, if you asked Oliver, the only reason we think Jimbo Garrison is a flake is that he’s been persecuted by the media conspiracy, the Cuban conspiracy, the FBI conspiracy, the CIA conspiracy, the conspiracy of the doctors at Parkland Hospital, the conspiracy of all the employees at the Texas School Book Depository, and now the conspiracy of all guilty Texans to whitewash what their state did to the president.
We have a few theories about “JFK” ourselves.
It stands for Just Full of Krap.
And speaking of American history scholarship, “Prison Stories: Women on the Inside” just came out on video, and I know what you’re thinking. Here goes Joe Bob, reviewing some kind of indoor bullstuff socially responsible Home B.O. cable mind-junk. But I’ve got an excuse–namely, that I am the only person in recorded history who has seen every single women-behind-bars movie ever made, and therefore it’s my duty to humanity to record this one in the books. It’s the first women-in-prison flick ever made completely by women (all the male characters are responsible for is getting the women into prison in the first place), and it’s also the first women-in-prison picture where all the prisoners keep their blouses on at all times throughout the picture.
It’s one of those anthology deals, with three stories in one movie. In the first one, Rae Dawn Chong gets pregnant while she’s in jail and starts selling drugs for a fat black mama so she can get proper day care for the fetus. Talk about your feminist plot run amuck! She got thrown in jail because of a man, then a man got her pregnant, then the corrupt MALE guards make it impossible to get into the prison day-care program–and so this lady, the daughter of Mr. Drughead Chong, of drive-in legends Cheech and Chong fame, starts dealing coke. Sorry.
The next one is better. Rachel Ticotin, of “Total Recall” fame, is doing some fairly hard time on a drug rap, and she has to leave her son in the care of her sister, Talisa Soto, of “License to Kill” fame, and before you know it the little yard monster is running down to the corner and doing drug deals for a guy named Montoya because he doesn’t think Mama loves him. You starting to see a theme here?
Finally, we got Lolita Davidovich as a battered wife who blew her husband away when he beat her up one time too many and then went after her helpless daughter. She’s coming up for a parole hearing, but she decides she might be better off in jail–“safe in the cage,” she calls it.
At least in the men’s prison movies, like Leon Isaac Kennedy in “Penitentiary,” the guy has to DO SOMETHING CRIMINAL to end up in prison. I think the point of this deal is that women would never be in prison if it weren’t for men screwing up their heads.
In other words, Politically Correct Fu.
No breasts. No dead bodies. (See what happens when you let women direct.) Strip-search. One catfight. Cell-wrecking. Wife abuse. Gratuitous inmate rapping. Crack Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for the three directors, Penelope Spheeris, Donna Deitch, and Joan Micklin Silver, for actually getting Home B.O. to put up the money for this.
Joe Bob says . . . well, you know.