Sometimes referred to as the “Nebula of Cheese”, or the “Flower Powered Happy Station”, the Drive-In Movie Theatre of the 1970s was a popular destination for hippies, druggies, alcoholics, and the gobs and gobs of children these degenerates later fostered. In order to achieve entry into one of these places, one had to pay something called “money” (which was usually supplied through “making love” (a la hooker hippies) or “making drug deals” (a la drug dealing hippies/Chad)) One of the more interesting facets of the Drive-In Movie theatre was its methods of employing staff. As work at a drive-in was deemed strenuous and unpleasant (even for drug-out hippies!!) theatres of this nature were often forced to hire from the “untouchable” caste of American society. (This included ex-cons, street mimes, demented clowns, and certain types of super intelligent marsupials.)
People used to have an abundant amount of sex at a drive-in. This was due to the fact that, in the 1970s, it was thought that parents conceiving an infant during a drive-in feature would be granted immortality and a free betamax copy of In Like Flint. How this urban legend was started is unknown, but one would assume it had something to do with the massive amounts of LSD consumed by hippy stoners of the 1970s.
Drive-in movie theatres are now all gone, due mainly to the Hippy Massacre of 1986, which resulted in the genocide of many hippies, including Lance Armstrong’s third cousin “Larry Cletus Smokealotofpot”. Also, employees of drive-ins often burned parts of their workplace to cinders while performing bizarre pagan rituals.
In conclusion, Joan Rivers is hot and I would gladly have carnal relations with her pruny exoskeleton.
I like to stab hippies in the face with a golf pencils, whilst "drive-in" them over with my gas guzzling, eco-enemy Hummer.