In Search of Immaturity: Sausage Party, War Dogs, and Everybody Wants Some

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In the past two weeks I’ve been gifted three films that catered really hard to the man-child crowd; the t-shirt-and-cargo-shorts demographic that I most definitely get grouped into.  The profanity is rampant, the themes are non-productive, and yet, they are almost made with such competence that they could (and should) be considered legitimate art.  Like drinking Bud Light out of a $500 wedding flute, or listening to opera while lighting fireworks in a trash can.

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Ranking All the Characters in Suicide Squad

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As I try to do with every comic book movie I can, I have now given the official, unarguable ranking of all the characters in Suicide Squad.  If you’d like an overall opinion of ‘Cide Squad from me, I thought it was about as fun as it was stupid; which is the best backhanded compliment I can possibly muster up for it.

I can understand why most movie critics didn’t like it, because it would be the equivalent a food critic complimenting a beef quesalupa.  But c’mon, you’re telling me you’ve never eaten $14 worth of Taco Bell and felt really satisfied with yourself?  No?  Well, Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant’s Florence Foster Jenkins comes out this weekend.  I hope you enjoy it, Professor!  [chugs entire bottle of Cotton Candy Faygo in critic’s face]

On to the rankings!

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