That moronic crime fighter Frank Drebin is back, and it's reassuring to think that some things never change.


Like a blind man at an orgy, he's feeling things out. Like a midget at a urinal, he has to stay on his toes. His prospects look as bleak as those of a gerbil in a bathhouse.


The cerebral folks who brought you "Police Squad," "Naked Gun," and "Naked Gun 2 1/2" have cobbled together another 90 minutes of rapid-fire, off-color slapstick.


There are no curve balls in "Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult," although the murder charges against O.J. Simpson lend unanticipated depth to his character. No, none of the jokes are very funny, but yes, you laugh anyway, and if you liked Leslie Nielson in his last eight movies, believe me, you will like him in this one.


When "The Final Insult" opens, Drebin (Nielson) has retired from the police force and taken up step aerobics. His domestic pursuits are interrupted by an Arab terrorist called Papshmir, whose plans for world domination focus wickedly on the Academy Awards Ceremony. Leaving a rump of lamb in the oven, Drebin rises to the occasion.


"I do what I do," he tells his wife Jane (Priscilla Presley). "Some people make shoelaces. Others make sod. Others make a very good living neutering animals. I'm a cop."


So, nothing ever changes. There's a lot of cavity-search humor, mistaken drinking of urine samples and one sperm-bank scene that pushes the envelope even for David Zucker. Anna Nicole Smith's breasts are entrusted with so much comic responsibility that they deserve their own credits.


Erudite? Well, no. Tasteful? No again. A constructive type of cultural exchange? Hmmm. But if you're not proud, you'll laugh.


The Oscars scene is a masterpiece, in which Raquel Welch ingests a microphone, Pia Zadora is flung repeatedly into the orchestra pit, and Phil Donahue vomits into a tuba.


Along the way, "Naked Gun 33 1/3" pokes fun at Woody Allen's love life, Spike Lee's penchant for self-promotion, the postal worker rampage, "Fatal Attraction," "Thelma and Louise," and "Battleship Potemkin," and serves up an encyclopedic list of tabloid references you catch just in time to miss the beginning of the next joke. The film came out last spring, and unfortunately suffers from the time lag. Where on earth is John Wayne Bobbitt? What about Nancy Kerrigan? How in the world can O.J. appear with such a total lack of irony? Not even David Zucker can see the future.