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t
14Tbe Tar Heel Thursday, May 26, 1988
Killer bimbos flash through life in the fast lane
A few weeks ago, I was out in El
Lay for my annual two-day vacation,
which is all the time I can spend out
there before I get Bubonic Lung and
start spittin' up seaweed crudballs,
and anyhow I was talking to this guy
who wanted me to write a movie for
him, and 1 told him I'd probly do
it as long as I didn't have to expose
my breasts unless it was necessary to
the plot, but by the time I got back
to Texas, there was this letter waiting
on me from a Communist organiza
tion called the Writers Guild of
America saying, basically, that if I
even THOUGHT about writing this
killer-Chihuahua flick that I've
always dreamed of making, then they
would sanction my hiney and black
ball my hiney and bring some lesbians
to stand out in my front yard with
picket signs, and "You will be denied
Guild membership forever."
I called the guy in 1 Lay on the
phone and asked him who these
people were and what they were
telling me, and he said, basically, that
they'd wait till they settled their strike
and then if I wanted to write a script
for any of the major companies in
Hollywood, they'd make SURE I
wasn't allowed to do it.
In other words, I went to bed in
Grapevine, Texas, and woke up in
Communist Russia.
Course, this was before I went
Joe Bob Briggs
At the Drive-in
investigating the Writers Guild of
America to see what they were
protesting about and what fine
principles they stood for. I'm sure
that, once you hear what they're
asking for, you won't care diddly
squat that there won't be any new
TV shows or movies until the year
1997. Listen up:
1. The writers think that every
time an episode of "Jake and the
Fatman" gets a rerun, for one night,
on one station in Winnemucca, Nev.,
then the writer should get $874,000.
But the greedy producers say the
writer should only get, like, $5, and
then, after the show is sold to 9,000
OTHER stations, he gets $874,000.
This dispute is the "I-want-my-874-thou-NOW"
clause.
2. The writers want more simo
leans for "burgeoning" foreign TV
sales. I dont know what "burgeon
ing" is, but I wish stuff in the
newspaper would stop doing it.
Anyhow, it's burgeoned to the point
where they're showing "Valerie's
Family" in Sri Lanka, and the writer
wants $1.7 million every time a sleazy
Sri Lanka character actor dubs Sandy
1
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Duncan's voice into Tamil. This
seems more than reasonable to me.
3. The writers wanna force the
producers to hire more minorities and
women as network TV writers. This
is because the producers have had an
evil long-standing policy of hiring
people solely on the basis of their
ability to write.
4. Most screenplays take about
a month to write, and some guys get
as little as $20,000 for a whole
screenplay. This is barely enough
money to feed 13 cities in Ethiopia.
5. While Johnny Carson finally
said he didn't care diddly what the
union said and wrote his own show,
somebody asked the Writers Guild
why they didn't blackball HIM and
what was the difference between what
Johnny was doing and what they
refused to let anybody else do at the
Oscar ceremonies (write your own
material). Their answer, of course,
was 44
6. The average TV sitcom writer
makes a measly $460,000 a year,
which is barely enough to keep a
masseuse in Malibu, much less take
care of his Chinese wolfdogs. And do
you know the REASON the produc-
Bimbos on Parade
ers allow the situation to exist? Pure
dee 100 percent greed.
Speaking of movies I wished I
wrote, especially if it would aggravate
the Writers Bilge, "Assault of the
Killer Bimbos" came out last week,
and it's the first in-depth examination
of the psyche of the airhead bimbo
ever put on film. (I know, I know,
I was supposed to do "Friday the 13th
VII" this week, but Jason always
sticks around a good solid two, three
weeks. This thing is the monthly
straight-to-video nominee.) Peaches,
Lulu and Darlene three upwardly
mobile strippers and waitresses (one's
a stripper, one's a waitress, and one's
a stripping waitress) are running
from the law, taking hostages, sque
aling a lot and making occasional
stops in the desert for disco dancing
and makeovers. We're talking Bim
borama here.
Peaches and Lulu are accused of
the murder of a sleazeball topless bar
owner, but they were really framed
by a greasehead who wears black
shirts, white ties and drinks Grey
hounds. The bimbos, the greasehead
and three gratuitous dopehead surfers
all end up in Jalapeno, Mexico, trying
FREDDIE S BACK
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SPORTSWEAR
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Car Mill Mall
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to remember their lines and take off
most of their clothes. No plot to get
in the way of the story an hour
and a half solid of Bimboism.
Eight breasts. One dead body. A
1 80 on the Squealing Airhead Decibel
Meter. Three high-speed motor
vehicle chases, with one great crash.
Catfight. Three hostage situations.
Margarita gulping. Gratuitous hang
nail repair. Gratuitous baton twirling.
Gratutous Griffin O'Neal. Gratuitous
Nick Cassavetes. Hair Spray Fu.
Super Glue Fu. Lingerie Fu. Drive
in Academy Award nominations for
Elizabeth Kaitan, as Lulu, for saying
"111 NEVER learn to be a go-go
dancer I feel so stupid I should
have gone to college."; Mike Muscat,
as Vinnie the hitman, for saying "Let's
get cooking, babe, I haven't got a lot
of time!"; Tammara Souza, as Dar
lene the truck-stop waitress, for
saying "Go-go dancers? Ain't that a
wee bit passe?"; Christina Whitaker,
as the redhead head bimbo, tough as
a 50-cent steak, for ENJOYING IT
every time the cops say "Put your
hands on the car and spread em!";
Anita Rosenberg, the director, for
having the guts to tell the REAL
bimbo story.
Four stars. Joe Bob says check it
out.
IMl lib iLtill
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