Review of Race Street

. . . with some sob story about being a war widow or a nun-turned-atheist, he'd be totally hole-in-the-head wacko crazy NOT to have a skirt specialist physician in HIS employ give her a thorough third-degree exam, as well as running her name, mug shot, driver's license, S.S.N. # and fingerprints through ALL of the national forensic files data bases plus credit report providers AND getting at least second, third and fourth verdicts from respectable Private Eye Agencies, RACE STREET suggests. This movie's key chump "Danny" ignores all of these Common Sense Dating Game Rules, indirectly dooming his best friend and himself to premature graves while condemning his younger sister to a life of bitter poverty when he allows himself to be brazenly bamboozled by an obvious harpy harlot. Mercenary strumpet "Robin" smells fishier than a beached shark with a belly full of rotting skunks, but clueless romantic loser Danny enables this wanton witch to pull her wool over his eyes. Since America is literally crawling with bawdy bed bugs like Robin, RACE STREET recommends preemptive delousing before permitting any potentially demonic dame to get within 12 feet of yourself.