Here is my thought process on this. If these hacks can spoof movies that they have never seen due to the fact that they were not being released at the time of filming, then I can review their stinking, fly-ridden piece of man-shit (Editor: As opposed to any other kind of shit?) called a movie without seeing it, or even waiting for it to be released. It makes sense, does it not? (Editor: Sure, as long as I can fly a passenger jet without actually having taken any lessons.)
DISASTER MOVIE
A review of the most ironically-named film made this side of the Sagittarius Arm of the Milky Way galaxy.
By Jesse Bluem
Editor "or at least that's what he likes to call himself" - Eric Friedrich.
Wow. Disaster Movie. Aptly titled, because it is a disaster that people pay to see movies like this (Editor: Lookin' at you, the two of you who saw Witless Protection.) There was not a single movie spoofed that actually qualified as a disaster movie (Editor: I thought Enchanted was a disaster. Ha! Who's with me?! No? Okay.) If that wasn't enough to let you know that the scribes of this tripe are fully aware of what they have unleashed, the ending will do the job just as well. Oh, what's this? You want to know how it all went down? (Editor: No.) Well, my unwashed masses (Editor: Please wash), this is exactly what the ending was: Aaron Seltzer and Jason Friedberg, each holding a fist full of hundred dollar bills in their left hands, their right hands raised in a single finger salute. Were you surprised? (Editor: As much as I was playing peek-a-boo with myself in the mirror this morning I was late for work.)
The entire first act of this movie was literally nothing but random physical trauma being inflicted upon iconic movie characters (Editor: Ben Affleck from Reindeer Games? How'd you get in this picture?); it quite literally paralleled the mental trauma that the audience felt. The four of us were very sad. (Editor: Yes, we have friends with whom we go see movies with.) However, it is okay now, for we all go to therapy together. (Editor: Though some of us may never fully recover). This kind of ridiculous crap could only entertain a child of perhaps 4 (Editor: Though children of 1 ½ years wrote the movie. Those writers and their mature humor). I remember entertaining a very young cousin of mine, merely by repeatedly falling down over and over again (Editor: He was trying to get up the stairs. Rogue roller-skate). And I didn't even pay 7 bucks for admission (Editor: $500 for hospital expenses). If I'd have filmed that shit I could be in fucking
The second act brings in something that shares some vague qualities with the passé film standby called a plot. A team of ragtag heroes are assembled to combat an incoming cloud of meteors. It features such heroic standbys like Hulk, Iron Man, Hancock, and Juno. (Editor: They couldn't get Batman or Indiana Jones because their agents actually cared about their license.) (Jesse: Don't bet on it, bro…)(Editor: Fuck. They made Indiana Jones that Tony Cox little person. I'm so pissed.) Juno isn't actually a super-hero; it's her baby, who gained super-powers by being conceived in a frozen banana stand. (Editor: She was also struck by lightning during the moment of climax.) The plan is the heroes will fan out to catch the meteors upon entry into our atmosphere. Oh ho, those writers (using that term very, very loosely) throw us a curve ball, because it turns out that our superheroes aren't so super (Editor: Mediocre, at best.) The meteors are frozen alien feces, so the superheroes are all comically (using that term very, very loosely) crushed. President Fukaho, (Editor: Catch the pronunciation? I thought it was brilliant, too) the first Asian president of the
This is followed by the final stage of this movie, which is actually the closest I have ever been to death (Editor: Edging out that 2 minutes at the gym). (Jesse: Oh, low blow Eric, low blow.) It's really a good idea to collect anything capable of piercing into the brain, like pens or paper clips, because I found that blood can be really hard to clean out of a movie theater carpet (Editor: Or your ex-girlfriends' bed sheets). So the confused, shiftless youth of the nation go on a rampage, wreaking havoc across the already shell-shocked nation (Editor: Actually, it's Post-Traumatic Stress Disordered nation now. Gotta be PC, Jesse. R.I.P. George Carlin. We miss ya). And this is when, and I quote, "brilliant writer and director of movies" A.J. Seltzedberg comes up with a plan to save the planet. See, he's going to build catapults out of raw sewage and unsold Meet the Spartans DVDs (Editor: Really lame plug) to fling addled children at the meteor swarm, diverting its course. Naturally, parents were outraged at the display of filth, as the original catapults were made only of the DVDs. You got to cave in to some demands. Naturally this ridiculous idea works, even against all laws of physics, and Seltzedberg saves the day. He gets nominated as King of America, the Nazis invade
I think I have brain cancer. And that cancer is disaster movie. I'm not even going to acknowledge that shit by capitalizing the letters. They can go fuck an electrical socket for all I care. I bet each of them [the writers] can fit their pencil dicks in either hole and fry together, in the same socket. Upon this fitting demise, a film nerd shall wander by and stumble closer, blinded by tears of joy. Upon reaching the twitching bodies, he reaches into his back-pack, for this is the receptacle that contains the jar of peanut butter (Editor: What?). Film nerd dives aside after smearing the peanut butter upon their corpses, just dodging the herd of voracious squirrels that promptly devour the fallen hacks, and then die moments later from a terrible case of dysentery.
End rant.
Editors' Note: Yeah, the end there's quite random and almost out of nowhere, but such is the mind of our good friend Jesse Bluem. He just really wants to see these guys burn. Have a great day!
Eric: I know, Jesse. I know...
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