By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Alice Laussade
By Scott Reitz
By Claire Lawton
By Kiernan Maletsky
By Anna Merlan
"I give great massages."
You ever know a girl who says this?
When a guy hears this, something inside the male body goes, "yeeeeeeeessssssssssssss!" Seventeen thousand neurons rush through the nervous system and plant a flag on Mount Everest, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
But let's break this down and analyze it, OK?
First of all, she's using the plural: "massages." She's using the plural so freely that at some point you're gonna stop and say, "How many massages have you given?"
Secondly, she's using the present tense: "I give." Not: "I'm gonna give you a great massage." She's talking about this like she's done seven or eight of 'em today.
But of course, we do not break it down and analyze it, do we, guys? We just hear the word "massage" and we instantly turn into little piles of runny grape jelly.
Another variation on this is: "I love to give pleasure to a man."
"A man"? That's a little generic, isn't it?
I knew this gal one time who said, "I love to explore a new body."
Yikes! Talk about one that'll make you put your pants back on and run screaming out of the room. I don't mind a woman with a little bit of a past, but let's not make a big deal out of it, OK?
But my question is, why do we fall for this stuff? We're pathetic, aren't we? We should all buy some posterboard and wear signs that say "Manipulate Me" in giant Magic Marker letters.
Fortunately, I have no idea where Cherry Dilday learned to give such a great massage.
Speaking of girls with magic digits, this week's flick, appropriately enough, is Masseuse. (Sometimes the segue actually makes sense.)
Griffin Drew is the sensitive, big-breasted fiancee of a corporate sleazeball who steals all her money, so she gets back at him by maxing out his credit cards, messing with his computer, and gathering together all the women he's slept with for a wild orgy featuring three expert hookers.
The prize for Griffin? Sex with the pool boy.
What a woman.
This is one of those movies where every single member of the cast looks like a centerfold girl, including the maid, the secretary, the best friend, and the hotel manager.
What the heck does this have to do with massages?
I have no idea.
My kinda flick.
No dead bodies. Twenty-two breasts. Multiple aardvarking.
Two lame fistfights. One lame striptease. Gratuitous weight-training in full-body Spandex leotards.
* Robyn Harris, as the hot secretary who says, "Let's get this over with," right before engaging in mad passionate sex with her boss while standing against the door.
* Griffin Drew, for looking great in a boost-ee-ay while saying stuff like: "It's our wedding! It's not a corporate cocktail party!"
* Amy Rochelle, as the hot-tamale maid who says she only sleeps with her boss to protect her green card, but seems to enjoy it a little too much.
* John Blyth Barrymore, as the only lawyer in history who holds legal conferences on the beach.
* And Monique Parent, as the loving best friend who suggests doing "massages" for a thousand bucks a pop as a way for the girls to become independent modern women.
Three and a half stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
Joe Bob's Find That Flick
This week's pate puzzler comes from...Tom Clouse of Valdese, North Carolina:
"I saw this flick at a local theater when I was around 4 years old. The movie was made sometime between 1966 and 1969.
"I can't recall anything about the plot, but I do remember three scenes:
"1. A man and a woman are riding through the countryside in a car, possibly a convertible.
"2. There's a car wreck and someone bashes someone else's head in with a huge rock.
"3. A possibly drugged man in a very dark room stares at a piece of wax or sugar cube with a bug crawling on it.
"My most vivid memory, however, is of the soundtrack--'Susie Q' by Creedence Clearwater Revival seems to play the whole time.
"Remember, my entire recollection is dreamlike and vague, meaning everything I've described could be different in crucial ways."
We have a winner!
Charles "Bangkok Charlie" Fisher of Almonte, Ontario, Canada, wrote:
"Last year I watched a 'short' on the tube that knocked me out. I wake up at night wondering how to find it again (and how it got on that screen in the first place)!
"Here is the story: A young girl is going to bed upstairs in a suburban home. In the garden a lad is looking up at her window.
"He attracts her attention, she opens the window. They talk and the young man climbs up the side of the house into her room.
"Soon they undress and engage in some energetic horizontal jogging. So energetic, in fact, that it begins to bring down the plates and move furniture in the sitting room below, where ma and pa are trying to watch television.
"Intervention attempted by parents is completely futile. Young man states he intends to take girl away with him; girl is set to go. Pa looks anxious but finally says: 'It's a bad night. Hadn't you better take my car?'
"And the young man, who seems to be a well-known rock star, replies (and this is his big three-star line): 'No, thank you. I wouldn't like any of my friends to see me driving a station wagon.'
"It's the story of Johnny Jinx, the bad-boy heartthrob of a teen-oriented TV show.
"He abandons his show and seduces the sweet daughter on a cozy family sitcom, leading to the scenes Charlie describes. It's a pretty good little short."
(To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, Texas 75221 or fax him at (213) 462-5982. Joe Bob even hangs out on the Internet: email@example.com.)
c.1996 Joe Bob Briggs (Distributed by NYT Special Features)
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