Sunday, March 16, 2008

Horrible movie for sale

I listed this auction on Ebay a while back. I'd purchased A Night At The Roxbury on a whim. My reasoning was it was five bucks, it had Will Ferrell in it and someone, not sure who now, told me it was funny. That person should be glad I do not remember them, or I would probably, I don't know, yell at them for a while about how bad that movie is.

Since I couldn't do that, I made an auction.

If you don't like it, screw off. My mom laughed and that's all that matters.
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Hello.

Earlier this evening, I was seeking on my shelf for a movie that I might sit back and enjoy. It has been a week of much stress, and a goodly film that I could perhaps even fall asleep to would suit me well. I considered such examples of cinematic happiness as Casino Royale, 300, Indiana Jones and my usual movie for such an occasion, Ghostbusters.

But then I noticed the purple case still covered in cellophane. Indeed, over one year ago I made purchase of the comedic film "A Night At The Roxbury", as several friends had laughed and told me of its goodness, usually while rocking their heads and singing "What Is Love" by house musician Haddaway. Though this bit of behavior left me confused and alarmed, in a mad fit of bargain bin shopping I acquired it.

So I pull it from the shelf. I gently remove the cellophane wrapping and with equal care detach the security sticker from the top. I eagerly insert the disc into the appropriate player and get all snuggly.

The player will not start. It makes an attempt, then just stops. In fury I repeatedly mash the play button. Aah, there. The film begins, the Haddaway song issuing forth from the speakers and the Paramount logo adorning the screen.

Oh, how sorry I am, my poor DVD player! You wished only for me to not endure such pain.

At the eight minute mark, I'm ready to die. Nothing funny has happened. My life is worse at this point than it was when I started watching. But I remain vigilant and plod on, determined to finish.

After about forty minutes, I eject the disc and register an Ebay account.

Friends, this movie is horrible. It is as if it were excreted from the hind quarters of Cerberus, the three headed hound of hell, when the animal was in a state of grief and hatred, his mate possibly murdered before his eyes just hours before.

Yes, I mean it. If you murder the mate of Hell's guardian animal, he craps out Lorne Michaels movies. It makes sense if you think about it.

Now I guess I should list all the technical stuff.

Perfect condition. The disc is free of scratches, though if you finish the film you will likely claw madly at your own eyes, causing scratches in that area.

Opened. Yes, I opened it. When I did this, a thousand wailing tormented spirits broke free and flew about my room in a mad dance of pain.

I'm not sure what else to say. It is crystal clear DVD, it is in widescreen and it is a terrible, unfunny, painful film to watch.

Below you will find three positive reviews of this ghastly hateful conjuring of a film. Do not believe them, they are lying to you. A Night At The Roxbury is a bad movie for bad people.

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