Whoa. I never thought I'd see the day where the cinematic genius of Pauly Shore is bettered, but give this collective suicide attempt credit. As a smart man once said, "Why don't you just drive a red-hot nail into my balls instead." None of the people involved in this movie should ever be allowed near even so much as a disposable Kodak camera. This is what happens when Bill Kurtis does too many mafia-glamourizing "American Justice" shows. Renters beware: unborn children could develop serious birth defects if this movie is anywhere near them.
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