Our topic today is the Woman of Easy Virtue.
Bless her little heart.
I've been hearin' a lot lately about the big bad Womanizer.
Oooooooooooo, what a piece of scummy crud he is. We've got Congressional Womanizers, Big-Business Womanizers, Showbiz Womanizers and, of course, the old-fashioned Traveling-Salesman Womanizer.
These are heartless, shallow enemies of Goodness. There are certain feminists who wanna pass laws against these guys.
Now excuse me for pointing out the obvious here, but for every Womanizer out there, we have a Manizer, or, to use the old-fashioned term, a Woman of Easy Virtue.
Remember Adnan Khashoggi, the billionaire arms dealer from the '80s?
It's been reported that at one point he leased an entire floor of the Sands Hotel in Vegas to contain all the young women he had at his disposal.
Adnan took Womanizing to levels undreamed of by Warren Beatty in his best years.
But my point is, I don't think Adnan kidnapped any of those 18-year-old waitresses. I think he just said, "How would you like to come live in Vegas with me and go shopping every day?"
And I think those girls knew exactly what he meant. And I think they said, "Yep, count me in."
So why do we treat Womanizers like criminals, and treat the women they womanize with like fragile little victims?
With each passing year, there are more and more American women who decide to marry for money, become mistresses for money, or do God-knows-what for money.
But if a politician gets caught Womanizing, he might just lose the next election. And if a movie star gets caught Womanizing, he might just lose his box-office power.
If a cold-hearted woman moves in with some guy for his checkbook, however, there might be a little chitchat about it, but if her boss actually did something about it, we'd have Lawsuit City.
"How dare you inquire into whom she's dating!"
It's considered bad taste if you even ask a girl whom she's dated in the past.
And it's considered good taste if the girl lies about it.
Life gets curiouser and curiouser, don't it?
I say we leave both of 'em alone--the Womanizer and the Woman of Easy Virtue. I say we let 'em be.
I say we don't really know what we're talking about.
And speaking of women you'd like to fly off to Atlantic City with, Linnea Quigley is back!
The Numero Uno Scream Queen of the '80s returns in Jack-O, which is one of those made-in-Florida horror flicks that looks like it was edited in a trailer park.
Linnea plays a sexy baby sitter (what a stretch). It's Halloween night, and a young boy has to battle to the death with the resurrected Pumpkin Man.
Basically we're talkin' a guy with a giant pumpkin on his head and a nasty-lookin' scythe.
What's he doing out there, anyhow?
Why, he's Terrorizing Suburban Teen-agers. Of course.
Back in 1915, Jack-O killed somebody, or somebody killed him, or there was a feud in the swamps, or a farmer took revenge on a wizard, or Jack-O killed the farmer, or Jack-O is the farmer--I can't really remember what the deal is, but you can figure it out if you watch very closely in the extended flashback sequence.
Now Jack-O comes poppin' into little Ryan Latshaw's dreams, because Ryan is a fifth-generation descendent of the dead farmer.
Ryan is also the son of ultralow-budget director Steve Latshaw, so he works for free.
In fact, Ryan may be the only actor of his age (he's about 10) to co-star with John Carradine and Cameron Mitchell (who are both dead).
Somehow producer Fred Olen Ray worked some old footage into this flick so that Carradine and Mitchell fit into the plot, along with scream queen Brinke Stevens and retired scream queen Dawn Wildsmith. (Dawn used to be married to Fred. This flick is Nepotism Heaven.)
Anyhow, we've got a lot of teen meat on a sharp stick.
Eleven dead bodies. Four breasts. Multiple neck-slicing.
The old butter-knife-in-the-toaster electrocution scene.
Exploding creature. Head rolls. Gratuitous shower.
Toilet paper fu.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for:
* Thom Schwiegerath, as the cynical, rock-throwing trick-or-treater who says, "She's looking for kids to eat."
* Michael Walsh, as the horny teen-ager who says, "I think I found something old and dead."
* Helen Keeling, as the nosy neighbor who says, "If she were a dog, I'd have her spayed."
* Bill Cross, as the ultraconservative neighbor who tells trick-or-treaters: "Looking for a handout? You want something from me, you pay for it!"
* And Catherine Walsh, as the creepy brunette who looks like a witch, for saying, "I'm the last of the ones who brought you into this world--now go back to hell!"
Joe Bob says check it out.
Joe Bob's Find that Flick
This week's chin-scratcher comes from...Jim Jumper of Camp Hill, Pa.:
"Twenty-plus years ago I saw a sci-fi film where these scientists were wandering around a deserted space station.
"They were in some kind of library that had walls of black boxes with white knobs in the center.
"They used earphones and 'listened' to the information inside the ones they could open.
"Knowing an alien attack was pending, they assimilated the information from the boxes and learned how to launch the station's missiles.
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"I don't know why I remember this film more than the other stuff I watched as a kid, but somehow it is indelibly etched in my brain.
"I would love to know the title--it would aid me in my quest to see this flick again."
A video will be awarded to the correct answer. In the event of a tie, a drawing will be held. Send "Find That Flick" questions and solutions to Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, Texas 75221, or fax them to 214-985-7448, or E-mail them to Joe Bob on the Internet: firstname.lastname@example.org. (E-mail entries must include a postal mailing address.)
Copyright 1995 Joe Bob Briggs (Distributed by NYT Special Features/Syndication Sales)