Saddam Hussein hiney-kicking duty, with Arab do’s and don’ts, and reviews:
Delta Force 2
I went down to the Grapevine, Tex., Army Recruiting Office to sign up for Saddam Hussein hiney-kicking duty, but when I got there I happened to see this mimeographed form that had all the rules for living in Ayrab countries. Do you guys realize what our boys are SUFFERING through over there?
* Numero Uno: Absolutely no alcoholic beverages. If they catch you with hooch, they cut off the arm of your choice.
* Numero Two-o: Never show the sole of your foot to an Ayrab. This is the ultimate insult. It means something like "Die, dirty Ishmaelite dog!"
* Numero Three-o: Never eat food with your left hand. Your left hand is only used for wiping your . . . well, let's just say that, whenever you eat food with your left hand, everybody at the table gets GROSSED OUT. They're thinking "OOOOOOOOHHHHH, just think of where ELSE that hand's been!"
(Some of you think I'm making these up, don't you? You're obviously not aware of the current U.S. military plan, to have about 10,000 paratroopers jump into Baghdad, just so the Iraqi people can be exposed to the soles of their feet on the way down. The CIA thinks it would be "psychologically devastating" and end the conflict quickly.)
* Numero Four-o: Never say, "Those are a couple of nice mambos on your sister."
* Numero Five-o: Try to avoid saying, "Let's try to settle this thing in a Christian manner."
* Numero Six-o: Don't call any Ayrab a "slopehead camel jockey" while he's standing next to a Soviet-made SAM missile loaded with 250 pounds of chemical warheads, the kind that make your skin turn into a piece of beef jerky.
* Numero Seven-o: Don't suggest to Iraqi military personnel that "we go grab a bagel together."
* Numero Eight-o: Most Ayrabs will not respond to the greeting "Hey! Nice burnoose!"
* Numero Nine-o: When an Ayrab introduces you to his wife, and she has one of those veils over her face, it's not good to say "I've had a few two-baggers myself."
* Numero Ten-o: If you're wondering how to pronounce "Saddam Hussein," since all the TV guys say it differently, the only guy who's got it right is President Bush. "Sodom," as in Gomorrah. Cracks me up every time he does it. This is now the official pronunciation.
You got this straight? Okay. Let's hit the dunes, be perfect guests of the Ayrabs. I'm waiting on my papers to come through. I'm ready to party in Baghdad.
Chuck Norris, seeking new levels of achievement, attempts to kung-fu a mountain in "Delta Force 2"
"Joe Bob Goes to the Drive-In" By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
Speaking of the greatest fighting force in the world, "Delta Force 2" demonstrates once again that all it takes is one helicopter full of American kung-fu masters to solve any problem in the universe, including wiping out a South American drug dealer whose idea of a good time is to kill babies because their mothers don't harvest the coca leaves FAST ENOUGH. The Ayrab silk-shirt goonie terrorists in "Delta Force One" were sleazy enough. THIS guy is so sleazy he makes Noriega look like a dolphin trainer at Sea World.
Fortunately, Chuck Norris is available. Wait just a minute--he has to bust the gizzards of three skinheads who are rough-housing in a restaurant--okay, now, exactly which drug dealer was it that you wanted Chuck to kidnap? Oh, yeah--the one who lives in the mountain fortress surrounded by a hundred armed men and protected by a South American army equipped with heat-seeking helicopter-gunship missiles. But first Chuck needs a little motivation. How about if they machine-gunned his partner's 14-year-old basketball-playing son, forced his wife to beg for her life and then shot her through the brain, and tortured the partner until he could be executed in a homemade gas chamber. Not enough? Well, this drug dealer also has three DEA agents imprisoned in his basement. Not quite enough?
The guy wears a Japanese kimono. In the DAYTIME.
Pretty soon the Delta Force is assembling in a circle so that Chuck can kung-fu all of them, one by one, until they're knocked unconscious. Now they're prepared to invade South America. But Chuck wants to go in first, BY HIMSELF, because . . . well, I didn't quite get the "because" part, but it's because he wants to climb this sheer granite cliff that guards the drug dealer's compound, and in the meantime the Delta Force will be getting ready to bomb the holy bejabbers out of all the coca fields in the country and bazooka the drug militias that get in their way.
Okay, I'm gonna stop kidding here for a minute: This is one of the best action movies of the last ten years. There's a skydiving stunt that's better than the famous James Bond skydiving sequences, and there's a mountain-climbing stunt that's fairly incredible, and they have some helicopter work that'll take your breath away . . . and this movie goes in the Action Hall of Fame along with Action Jackson and "The French Connection."
No breasts. (A very MALE movie.) Ninety-four dead bodies. Two motor vehicle chases, with crash and burn. Skinhead-bashing. Missiles. Fireballs. Exploding bamboo. Exploding airplane. Exploding copter. Exploding Filipino extras. Sneak attack. Snake attack. Gratuitous polo. Multiple Kung Fu. Machine gun Fu. Gas chamber Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Billy Drago, as the drug kingpin, for saying "Take her to my bedroom--first give her a beautiful bath--get rid of the baby"; Big Chuck, for saying "My turn to teach" and "When death calls, you'll be screaming like a baby"; and Aaron Norris, Chuck's brother, for directing the best non-stop action flick since "First Blood."
Four stars. Joe Bob says check it out.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Communist Alert! The Gainesville Drive-In in Gainesville, Fla., has always had weeds growing up around the speaker poles, but now the roof has been ripped off the concession stand, ending all chance of the once-hallowed place returning to life. John P. Korb spent a day photographing the misery of it, and reminds us that, without eternal vigilance, it can happen here. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get free junk in the mail and his world-famous "We Are The Weird" newsletter, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221. Joe Bob's Fax line is always open: 214-368-2310.
Attenhut, Joe Bob,
Sean Young has a big butt.
Lt. Joan Panic
That's one way to look at it.
Dear Joe Bob,
Who do you like in the Tyson-Iraq fight?
Joseph J. Padian
Yo Joe Bob,
Great News. Ole pineapple-face Noriega must have been conceived in the back seat of an Edsel or something cause they got drive-ins down here in Panama.
I guess it goes to show you no matter how low down and ugly someone is, they have at least one good quality about them.
Panama City, Panama
That's why they call him Milk Dud Head.
Hey, Joe Bob!
I work for a buncha engineers who run a nuke plant out here in sunny California, shuffling their paperwork and correcting their spelling errors and general bad grammar and stuff. There's this one guy who's responsible for safety issues--like how to keep everybody in Southern California from looking like a glow-in-the-dark Homer Simpson doll. Joe Bob, should I be worried that his vacation plans include going to Pamplona, Spain, drinking hisself into some sort of Blind Papa Hemingway frenzy, and running from one end of town to the other in front of a herd of wild bulls? I mean, is this appropriate behavior?
P.S. Please don't give away my true identity. Folks in these parts get a mite peeved when I joke about meltdowns.
Bothered by Bullstuff
Did you say SOUTHERN California?
I wouldn't worry about it too much.
No one would notice.
Dear Joe Bob,
You will be glad to know that your column hangs over the urinal in my squadron. I am the aviation safety officer in my squadron, and I try to get the pilots to read safety bites while they are occupied at our $2500 wall urinals. (Just kidding. Please don't sick the Senate Finance Committee on me.) Anyway, I had a hard time keeping their interest in the bathroom bulletin board until I started posting your drive-in movie review. Now guys bring in government 15-gallon water jugs just to work up a good bladder full so they can read about Fernando Lamas and tenor saxophones. Besides, some of these boys are from backward places like New York. They need some culture!
Lt. Robert P. Papadakis
Virginia Beach, Va.
You know what? Other people have told me my column has the EXACT SAME EFFECT on em.
Why buy French wine when the stuff from California, Arkansas, and Australia is cheaper? End the Hussein-lovers’ monopoly! Click here for Joe Bob’s secret plan and review of “Maniac Cop”
Elvis has left the building, and he took Joe Bob with him.