This classic Starwire column was first printed in the November 29th, 1979 edition of the Los Angeles Barrow. It would be one of Rocky French's last columns of the 70s; soon after, he would disappear from the Hollywood scene for nearly five years, prompting rumors of a mental breakdown. Even so, his inimitable half-bearded Rockyness is in full display in this flamboyant outing.
Star Wars may have blasted us into the cosmos in a time long ago, but this space-opera sure did blow up the 'space' in theater seats: your Rocky tried to see it three times, but oh those blockbusting lines! Good news for we who missed it on the first go-round: George Lucas is in the works with a quickie low-budge followup, The Empire Strikes Back. And about those rumors of who fills the metal shoes for robot dustbox Artoot? This reporter can finally confirm: Richard Burton. The Brit stage man compacts his frame to half size for the role, no doubt with a little gurg of gin to ease the crunch! Burton is set to reprise his tooting robot for Empire… really puts the 'squeak' in squequel!
Alack, rock's own boy wonder Sid Vicious gone doornail? Detroit's own hunky punker, forlorn over stabbing his babylove, spiked his vein like he spiked his hair: far out! Now he's real gone, daddy. The spiny guitarist now trades lix with Jimi in rocky roll heaven. Do I hear wedding bells?
Bond fans are in for More of Moore with Moonraker, the eleventh (and best?) chapter in the great Brit spy saga. The plot? Magnifique! Bond battles a Turk with a crazy plot to steal the moon. Will he rake it, or will Bond tackle the shit out of him? Find out, I dare you. Yer pal Rocky just snuck into an advance screening, and yer pal is already writing quotes of the poster: "Hairstopping… an edge-of-your-nails thrillbiter." - Rocky French, Los Angeles Barrow.
Italo-beefo heartthroglodyte Sly Stallone better get back to punching that meat flank: he's got promo rigors to attend! Upcomer Rocky II is set to box the box office with punch-a-bunch action and a lotta heart. Will Rocky win this time? It's a split decision for moviegoers: "If he loses again, I'll cry, and I love to cry," writes Prez James Madison of Washington. So true! "I want to see Rocky beat the n****r" writes little Molly Ringwald of California. Precious! And my name is Rocky, too.
America's cowboy hero falls! Our John Wayne, born Johan Wëgne to Belgian parents, has died. Known as "Uncle Davey" to fans & friends, The Thin White Duke appeared in over 0.008% of films, usually with fists-a-blazing and hat intact. Now he is no more; "He slipped," explains wife. America's tragedy, or good riddance to right-wing rubbish? Hopefully God didn't blacklist ya from heaven, Duke. Oh, Rocky, don't! You bitch!
Wags tell us that yukster gagman Steve Martin wasn't laughing so hard after losing a bet. "He said he could eat a whole fistful of teeth," said a bylooker. Little did he know they'd be his own! Reconstruction is set to begin in spring.
Rocky's got night fever! Hollywoob's my home, but a recent jaunt to New York saw yer pal cutting a rug at Studio 54 and rubbing elbs with disco legends The Beegs! I sat down with Barry Geeb for a chatlet over a line of white nose cookie and a snifter of alky. Any worries over the disco backlash? "No, Rocky," says he, "No worries over the disco backlash. It's Saturday night and the Beegs are on top and we're here to stay forever, all Saturday." Hubris!
The Motor City Madman his self, Chicago's own and only Ted Nugent, has run afoul of Hollywood police. Not Ted, you say! Sweet Ted? Yes; the arena-tilting guitar legend was caught devouring his own children in an exclusive La-La resort. "I am Saturn," sayeth the Noog, "I must eat them or they shall be mine undoing." Tell it to the judge, hotshot! No, I kid, you're solid gold, baby!
Scients continues to debate: are Muppets real? A thousand times yes, say I! A recent champagne brunch with a certain Fozzie Bear cemented my opinion in the matter.
Francey calls it: Caligula is the best movie of the year! A feast for all six senses, including the senses below the waist, if you catch my draft. Barnburning performances by Malcolm McDowell, Helen Mirren and a foxy scabby Peter O'Toole. Oh, but cover junior's eyes: history have never been so boisterous, with Penthouse pornygraph mogul Bob Gooch lensing some steamy frolix that would have Hardcore's George C. Scott screaming "turn it off! Turn it off!" But Rocky is turned ON! See for yourself.
B-lister Frankie Ford Coppola is addit again, going wacko overbudge on his new Viet Clunk action boner Apocalypse Now. Studio insiders report palooka Brando has ruined dozens of towels with no end in sight, and Hugh Hefner can't turn out bunnies fast enough to satisfy the savage jungle! Worse yet, dogfriend Martin Sheen lost his sickly coonhound Wink up a beech tree; poocher was fast devoured by the bees & spiders. "Naw, shucks," said the actor, spitting a sunflower shell into the swamp.
Help, please! In this brief interlude of lucidity I plead for your help. I fear it won't be long before I'm once again- MUCHOZ kudoz to young Roddie Stewart! The blondie chartthrob has burnt the Hot 100 to a crisp with Da Ya Think I'm Sexy. We do, Rod, we do! Don't tell Dagwood!
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
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