Stop making movies about these things and stop finding uses for Nick Swardson and Kevin James. Did you even sit through Zookeeper? Bucky Larson? Really? You sat through it start to finish? I find that hard to believe.
By the way, the last three movies come to a combined total of 33% on Rotten Tomatoes. You can even add in Bucky Larson and Zookeeper (0% and 14%) and whatever Frankenstein of fat guy jokes and gay jokes comes out of that is still below 50%.
Think about that. Five movies combined, Adam Sandler, and you can't even beat American Pie 2. I dare anyone reading this to attempt to remember any detail from American Pie 2. Anything. It's impossible. If you made the mistake of seeing American Pie 2, any memory of it you have is actually just the original American Pie. This sucking void of nothingness ranked higher among critics than five recent Adam Sandler movies combined.
Normally I wouldn't waste my semi-precious time excoriating a has-been movie star, but Adam Sandler crossed the movie star line a long time ago. You see, Adam Sandler is really loyal to his friends. He takes care of Kevin James and Nick Swardson. He makes sure Rob Schneider can put cocaine on his table and David Spade can afford the cobra venom injections in his crow's feet. Basically all the comedians too weak to care for themselves have been placed in a zoo and fed pellets by Adam Sandler. Every year he opens the doors of the zoo so all his caged comedians can run free and maul the shit out of the concept of humor.
Fucking cut it out, Sandler. Nobody likes you anymore. Nobody wants more of this drivel. Year after year, incessantly advertised on TV. I don't know what hedge fund is underwriting this shit, but it needs to be investigated by the SEC immediately. Some scheme somewhere is the only explanation for the financing of a death shit like Bucky Larson. Throw money out windows. Shoot drugs with it. Just stop inflicting your sappy garbage on us.
In closing, I leave with this to think about.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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