The Bare Essentials of Poker - Part III: Movie Star Max

In parts I and II of this saga, I reported how three "National Lampoon's Strip Poker" productions were filmed at Hedonism II, a nude resort in Jamaica. My sweetie, Barbara Enright, was tabbed to be the technical adviser and also had a part in an interview segment. I tagged along for the thrill of it and to get some columns when I got the surprise of my life: I was offered a part in one of the TV/DVD productions, probably in compensation for my grueling reporting assignment.

There's little doubt now that the highlight of these productions was my starring role in one of them. Well, maybe my name won't be above the title, but I did get to speak a few lines. I hope Dirty Wally doesn't hear about this, because he'd die of jealousy. He hasn't had a part in a movie since he played a corpse in Birth of a Nation.

The setup for my big scene had me sitting poolside with the female lead, the young and lissome Lisa Munn. I'm rambling on with a serious discussion about my favorite band, Van Halen, favorite cartoon, Flintstones, and favorite actor, Bronson Pinchot (whoever he is), and all she wants to do is have sex, so I get annoyed and shove her into the pool, complaining about the way that all the young women here have been treating me.

(Like I said, this is a fantasy movie.)

Studying my lines, I asked the writer, Mick Betancourt, what my motivation was.

"Motivation? This isn't Death of a Salesman, you idiot. I just wrote your character the same way I figured you'd behave in real life."

Thanks a lot, Mick. Give me back that copy of my book that I gave you.

OK, so maybe it wasn't Hamlet, but I acted up a storm. Stravinsky would have been proud. I wasn't sure, in a nude movie, if you acted from the heart or from the crotch, but I later heard my acting style described as a cross between Clint Eastwood and Pee-Wee Herman. At the end of my scene, the director, camera crew, and onlookers all had tears in their eyes. I started to take bows until I heard the director whisper to Lampoon honcho Barry Layne, "Don't worry, we can always dub his lines in later."

I knew he was joking. Then, I asked my co-star what she liked best about our scene.

"The part where you pushed me into the pool," Lisa replied.

"Why was that?"

"So I wouldn't have to listen to any more of your corny acting."

Another comedian. I knew my acting was great, but I wasn't too happy with my appearance, because they didn't tell me I had a part until the last minute. Had I known my career as a matinee idol was about to be launched, I would have spent all of my free time at the gym buffing my muscular body. As it was, instead of buffing, I had been buffeting nonstop, like Mike Paulle after a two-week fast. The result was that my gut hung halfway down into the pool. Maybe that's why, when I said, "I'm ready for my nude close-up, Mr. Androsky," the director pushed me into the pool.

Who cared? I was now a certified actor! I continued to take bows, handed out autographs to everyone I saw, placed an overseas call to my agent, Sherman H. Shlock, instructing him to send out press releases and get me a shot on Oprah, and, to top off my celebration, climbed the mile-high trapeze on the beach and did a few swings for my rapt audience. I was later told I was the oldest man to ever do so and live. I don't think Barbara was amused at my antics, because I caught her trying to cut the safety netting.

Anyway, despite my acting, everyone was so pleased at how well things went that Lampoon may expand the production to at least 26 movies, with more opportunities for casino and online site tie-ins.

Well, all in all it was a fantastic trip. I never did get to see the nude beach, because I promised Barbara I wouldn't, and besides, I'd have looked funny wearing that electronic tracking device around my ankle.

Actually, the only real downside of the trip was that it resulted in a terrible battle between Barbara and me. One day she had the best massage of her life at the resort's spa. She was totally blissed out. She pleaded with the Jamaican massage lady to come home with her and be her personal masseuse, but the woman explained that the only way she could enter the United States was by marrying an American citizen. That night my sweetie gave me a tender and loving kiss and whispered that there was something she wanted me to do.

"Anything for my true love," I replied. "What is it?"

"Would you mind marrying someone for me?"