Monday, September 14, 2009
You hear the city rats raving on about their grindhouse experiences. I'm sure it was nice, but compared to a drive-in theater? You gotta be kidding me!
At a drive-in you had the choice of sitting in the luxury of your own automobile or bringing along a lawn chair. Or you could sit on the hood of the car and keep warm on a cool night from the engine heat.
At a grindhouse you sat in some guy's sperm and piss.
At a drive-in, you could drink and smoke anything you wanted.
You could at a grindhouse too, I suppose, but you can bring in a LOT more beer in your trunk than in your raincoat pockets.
At a drive-in you were under the glorious stars.
At a grindhouse you were in an unhealthy building that probably should have been condemned a long time ago.
At a drive-in you could piss outside you car. If you were in the back row, anyway.
At a grindhouse you had to brave the old pervs that hung out in the men's room looking for a date or maybe a peek at your Johnson.
You could bring your date to a drive-in and at least have the option of having cramped uncomfortable sex.
At a grindhouse I don't think you would have wanted to try that. You might find yourself in an unwelcome Ménage à Trois. Or a gangbang.
At a grindhouse you were at least out of the weather.
Battling the elements was one of the fun things about a drive-in. Rain, wind, even snow and ice storms. I've been through 'em all at drive-ins and it was always a blast.
I admit that that the mosquitoes were often extremely annoying at a drive-in theater.
I'll take them over rats, cockroaches, fleas and lice any day.
The screen at a drive-in is as big as the heavens. The huge movie images against the backdrop of the night horizon is breathtaking. If there is such a thing as paradise on earth, that's it.
There's no way to prove this, but I'd BET that if Tarantino and Rodriguez called their movie, Drive-In, instead of Grindhouse, it wouldn't have been such a flop.