I wasn’t really interested in this story until I found out the dancer, Tammy Chapman, had modeled for Penthouse, which for some unknown reason placed the whole episode on a new grid in the three tiered parcheesi game in my skull. I’m tempted to lie outright and say I can’t get enough of this movie. I got enough early on. But I’d really be lying if I said it didn’t have its strong points.

I think it’s the dramatic distance instantiated by the chewing gum. Or the Jane Hathaway glasses.
If I center myself, and summon my limited yogic capabilities, I can visualize hitting the strip clubs to watch this artist work, especially if the only other thing in my life was being the Lt. Governor of Missouri.
But look at this woman. The last thing she needs is more tedium. If he’d wanted to do something genuinely nice for her, he’d have bought her a slalom ski. Or a bathysphere.