BowlesSR.dlos@PARC-MAXC.ARPA (07/19/83)
e about the Arkansas Polio Weed.
Rhett never told me that $88,000 of his $90,000 bail was on the charge
of possession of Arkansas Polio Weed.
I told Rhett not to touch that stuff. I *told* him I was suspicious
of why he had to go visit his mother in Jasper, Arkansas, *every* dang
weekend. I *told* him if he kept smoking that stuff they grow up there in
the mountains he was gonna end up with the inside of his brain looking like
a flashlight battery that's been left out in a field for 17 years.
You probly know the stuff I'm talking about. Rhett used to light up
one of those suckers and 45 minutes later we'd have to carry him over to
Parkland Emergency for heart massage. Sometimes he'd forget to take it out
of his mouth before total paralysis set in, and his arm muscles would start
twitching like a frog in biology class and then he'd play the whole drum
solo to "Inna Godda Divida" on the end of a Van Camp's Pork and Beans can.
There's nothing you can do when he gets like that. After two or three
hours he'll start begging you to drive him out to DFW Airport so he can
"fly Braniff."
We're talking some wicked weed.
Anyway, the Garland cops found three ounces of Arkansas Polio Weed
(estimated street value $9,000) in Rhett's bowling bag, and when I asked
him about it Rhett claimed he had it stored in there to *prove* it was for
"recreational use."
"Rhett," I told him, "we're talking Garland police here, and they'll
need to request FBI assistance just to *spell* recreational."
Rhett said he didn't think of that, and besides, he was still p.o.ed
about the Theft-Under-200 charge they laid on him for "possession of stolen
shoes." Rhett swears he didn't swipe those shoes, and he thinks one of the
cops just wanted some new dog-warmers and liked Rhett's because they looked
like something you couldn't get at True Value Hardware. You probly
remember how the alleged shoes were red suede on one side, blue suede on
the other, and they had a big number "11" in raised white letters on the
heels. Rhett said he bought those shoes specially to wear to Bobo
Rodriguez's wedding and he didn't see what was so suspicious about red-and-
blue shoes anyway.
"Rhett," I told him, "you're gonna miss Bobo's wedding unless you come
up with ninety thou."
"Does that mean you're taking the 28 back?" he said.
I told Rhett the next time he inhaled any Polio Weed, I was taking him
straight to Southwestern for a brain scan.
"I think the Texas Association of Geologists might be interested in
the rock formations," I said.
"After that will you take me to DFW?" he said.
*
I was so hummed out after seeing Rhett in that kind of condition that
I actually asked Wanda Bodine to ride out to the Astro -- in the backseat,
of course -- so I could see "Stroker Ace" and watch Burt bust up some race
cars. I had to go see Wanda anyway to tell her that the Garland police
confiscated her American Express gold card that they took off Rhett when
they arrested him and they were wondering why it had her name on it but
when you traced down the numbers it was Lute Fenwick paying the bills.
Wanda came along to "Stocker Ace" under *my conditions*, which meant she
was forbidden from taking her clothes off at any time, because she
*suddenly* didn't want me to mention the Lute Fenwick part to Vida Stegall.
I found out Lute came into some money a while back when he sold his Western
Auto franchise in Baird so he could devote full time to the Cleburne store,
and I figured he was using it for a little extra service at the beauty
shop, if you know what I mean and I'm sure you do. Anyhow, I won't go into
that because it's almost as depressing as the Rhett Beavers story.
One thing I like about Burt Reynolds, to get back on the subject, is
that every time he makes a new movie he *matures* as a actor. I mean,
he'll never make another "W.W. and the Dixie Dancekings" because, let's
fact it, that was a once-in-a-career kind of flick. But what I'm talking
about is last five, six years, starting with "Smokey and the Bandit" and
going on through "Hooper" and "Smokey II" and "Cannonball Run," and
skipping over all the indoor bullstuff like "Paternity" and "Best Friends"
because, let's face it, they make him do those films so he can make some
bread and get back to the drive-in work he loves and besides I han't seen
those flicks anyway. But what we're talking here is *attitude.* Burt has
got it down now. He can do a whole movie without any plot to get it all
mucked up.
Like in "Stroker Ace." I have to admit I expected some Loni Anderson
garbonza exposure in this flick, and if you don't have the word yet, I
gotta be truthful: no celebrity jugs. Loni Anderson's in it, but she acts
like she's not. Gomer Pyle is in it. Here's what happens. Burt drives
around in this car with only three wheels on it and then he guns around and
totals a racecar at Daytona and then he dumps wet cement in his sponsor's
car and then Ned Beatty comes in and asks him to sign a contract the size
of a phone book and Burt does it 'cause he needs the jack but after he
signs it he finds out he has to promote these fried-chicken outlets and
wear a chicken suit while he's racing at Talladega and some other tracks
and he tries to get in bed with Loni but it doesn't work and then he
punches some guys out with Gomer Pyle and then he goes and finds his daddy,
who makes jewelry out of do-do, and his daddy comes watch him win the race
at Charlotte, which is where he crashes up some more cars.
Five motor vehicle chases. Eight crashes. No beasts. No breasts,
but Loni comes close. One beer joint brawl. One guy through a plate glass
window and into the swim pool. No kung fu. No plot. Two and half stars
(one off for lack of sufficient Loni anatomy).
Joe Bob says check it out.
*
The Joe Bob Briggs Report on Censorship in America comes from the
state waiting to become part of the Pacific Ocean:
ONTARIO, Calif. (AP) -- Inmates at a California women's
prison have had baby bills paid by taxpayers and were
allowed to choose violent films such as "Texas Chainsaw
Massacre" on movie nights, according to testimony at a state
hearing.
The allegations were made at a hearing into costs and
policies at the California Institution for Women in
Frontera.
Superintendent Sylvia Johnson, who has run the prison for
two years, said some of the allegations were untrue and
others resulted from statewide procedures that were not in
her power to change....
Johnson said she has been hesitant to ban violent movies
such as "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "My Bloody Valentine."
She said the inmates selected the films and paid for them
from their welfare fund. Banning them, she said, might
violate their First Amendment rights.
"Are you telling me people convicted of brutal, sadistic
murders have a constitutional right to view movies such as
"Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" asked Sen. Daniel Boatwright, a
Democrat from Concord who chaired the hearing. Johnson
agreed to make "a sensitive review of movies."...
Whenever the politicians need a scapegoat, they always pick on "Saw,"
don't they? And what does he mean by movies *such as* "Saw," when
everybody knows there is no other movie like "Saw." California was once a
great drive-in-going state, one of the best in the country, and now look at
it. Can't even protect the God-given right to see "Saw" whenever you want
to.
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[Reprinted without permission, Dallas Times Herald, July 15, 1983
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