There's a lot of things you can say about New York City, but the one thing I always liked about the place is that it was the last place in America that respected smokers.
Some of the office buildings even have those little fan systems over each desk, so that you can smoke while you work.
And now that I think of it, why don't all office buildings have those little smokers' exhaust systems?
If everybody really cares about second-hand smoke that much, then this would seem to be the perfect way to respect the smoker and the non-smoker.
But I've suspected for a long time that all this I-hate-smoking business doesn't have a whole heck of a lot to do with second-hand smoke.
These people don't hate the smoke. They hate the smoker.
And now they're trying to get some kinda no-smokin' ordinance passed in New York City.
No smokin' in any restaurant, any bar, any place atall.
Of course, even if they pass it, it'll be enforced about the same way they enforce the jaywalkin' laws.
There's just way too many Pakistanis and French guys who smoke 400 cigarettes a day, not to mention the Wall Street Corona Grandes.
Shoot, even the homeless people smoke cigars in New York City.
But that's not the point. The point is that these people would even dare to try it.
Okay, look. I'm fed up.
If we're gonna start drawin' up ordinances, then we oughta give the bar owner or the restaurant owner the option.
He can put up a sign--"Nonsmokin' Joint"--or he can put up a sign that says "Smoke City."
In other words, he can make his place an all-smoking environment if he wants to.
It's up to him. And then it's up to everbody else whether they wanna go in there or not.
So if you don't like smokin', go to a nonsmokin' place.
If you do like smokin', stay away from the nonsmokin' places.
In other words, let's even up the game here.
Stand up for yourself.
Send these Smoke Nazis back to Sweden where they belong.
I'm surprised they allow this sorta thing in America. It started with those dadblamed seat-belt laws, and the Goody Two-Shoes Lobby has been stompin' all over us ever since.
I draw the line at nonsmokin' topless bars.
I'm sorry, but I do.
And speaking of patriotic traditions, you know there's still hope for the country when people keep putting out the mindless R-rated teen sex comedy, and we have one of the Airhead Champions of 1994 this week--of course, I'm speaking of "Assault of the Party Nerds II: The Heavy Petting Detective."
How long have we been waiting for this sequel?
Too long.
Richard Gabai is the producer, writer, director, star, songwriter and sole casting-couch owner, in the sensitive story of a sleazy detective who goes around El Lay taking pictures of people In Flagrante Aardvarkus, if you know what I mean and I think you do, but he's pressed into service by Grand Fraternity Wizard Arte Johnson (yes, that's right, Arte Johnson is in this movie) and told he must save his beloved Lambda Alpha Eta brothers--all three of them, the only three pathetic guys left in the nerdiest fraternity on earth--he must save these geeks from being evicted from their frat house by the mean ole Zetas.
In the name of Geek Solidarity, he accepts the challenge, but not before doing lots of topless scenes with B-movie superstars Linnea Quigley and Michelle Bauer.
In other words, absolutely no plot to get in the way of the story.
My kinda flick.
No dead bodies. Eight breasts. Multiple aardvarking. Gratuitous Hungarian deejay. Gratuitous Burt Ward.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Tane McClure, as the ultra-slutty mini-skirted bimbo secretary; Rhonda Shear, for having nothing to do in the movie but doing it quite well, as a hick bimbo who snorts like a horse and lounges around in a bikini; Richard Gabai, for writing a part for himself where he rides around on a motorized skateboard and dresses in drag at a health spa; Linnea Quigley, as the super-tramp gold-digging hairdresser; Michelle Bauer, as the lonely belching housewife; Gloria Marie Perez, as the sensible girlfriend who says "You can't be a party nerd forever"; Christopher Dempsey, as the Yuppie villain who says "Welcome to Bud's House of Pain!"; and, of course, Spridle Pollak, as the head nerd, for being named Spridle Pollak and for saying "Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?"
Two and a half stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
Joe Bob's Find That Flick
This week's brain-bruiser comes from...Crazy Dan Marsh of Wayne, Michigan:
"What is this movie? It ends with three nude female skydivers that run into a radio or TV station to take over."
A video will be awarded to the correct answer. (The winner chooses from a list of about a thousand titles.)
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.
We Don't Have a Winner!
In a previous column, Joel "J.J." Horn of Brookfield, Illinois, wrote:
"A few years ago, I saw this film on one of the movie channels that I'm now trying to find the name to. I believe it's about this biker who gets released from prison, reunites with his family and friends, and gets revenge on the criminals responsible for his stay in jail.
"There was this great scene in this film where the main bad guy wakes up out of bed after hearing some noise, looks out of his window and sees his expensive car in the bottom of his swimming pool. Well, that's pretty much all I can remember from this film."
We received zero answers to this question--only the fifth time in history we've had no winner.
We'll still award the prize to late entries.
Copyright 1994 Joe Bob Briggs. Distributed by NYT Special Features/Syndication Sales.
To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get free junk in the mail or his world-famous newsletter, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, Texas 75221. Joe Bob has a new fax number at his trailer house: 214-985-7448. Joe Bob on CompuServe: 76702,1435.
