"Bad Boys 2" is a 150-minute life-sucking experience. It's like that scene in "The Princess Bride" where Prince Humperdink turns the machine up to "50" and sucks 50 years of Wesley's life away. Had I known what I was in for, I would have gladly cut my testicles off with a dull writing utensil and handed them to the popcorn girl instead of seeing the film.

The only thing Michael Bay should be doing with the rest of his life is teaching other directors how not to make movies. I'm also compelled to mention the writers: Ron Shelton, Jerry Stahl, Cormac Wibberley and Marianne Wibberly. If they're ever again allowed to touch a pen, pencil or lay fingers on an operating keyboard, I will petition NASA to shoot me into space in a Toughshed filled with Ebola-infested marmots.

I'm sure it's high irony to the Miami PD that the budget of this movie exceeds their annual departmental budget by a factor of four. One also imagines that the Miami Department of Tourism isn't too happy. Miami appears rife with rogue cops firing automatic weapons at unsuspecting civilians, massive car accidents every 30 minutes, and a drug trade that makes access to illegal substances easier than buying Skittles.

Bay's only question on his films, especially when paired with producer Jerry Bruckheimer, is "what can I destroy?" A scene where Marcus (Lawrence) and Mike (Will Smith) jump in Mike's Ferrari and chase some ecstasy dealers looks like the prototype for the new "Bad Boys 2" racing game for Playstation 2. And where exactly did Mike get the money for that car anyway? Perhaps that was answered in the first film, which I didn't see, and thus will have to live a lifetime without knowing the answer. Oh, darn!

The thing I enjoyed most about this movie was watching the film critic in front of me squirm like a slug in cooking oil. As you may know if you've ever attended a preview screening, film critics often sit close together so that they may benefit from the warmth of each other's ample bodies. The critic in front of me was in so much agony watching this crap festival that, at times, he was nearly upside-down.

The end is truly a masterpiece of the inexplicable. Mike is in love with Marcus's sister, Syd (Gabrielle Union), who gets kidnapped by a Cuban drug dealer, Johnny Tapia (Jordi Molla), who's a cross between Fabio and Scarface. We'll call him Scarfio. Scarfio takes Syd back to Cuba. The next thing you know, Marcus, Mike and the Miami PD are conducting a secret operation into Cuba.

It just so happens that somebody in the Miami PD has a brother in the Cuban underground, which just happens to be acting out scenes from "The Great Escape," which means they've dug a tunnel that just happens to lead into Johnny Tapia's Cuban home. So Marcus and Mike rescue Syd, blow up Tapia's house, and escape in a Hummer they just happen to come across in the garage. Naturally, they head straight for Guantanamo Bay. They end up in a minefield somehow, and -- I swear to you -- a mine explodes right next to Mike's head but selectively kills just the bad guy next to him. Marcus ends up saving Mike, allowing Bay to further abuse a slow-motion bullet effect wherein one of the characters is able to read "War and Peace" between the time the bullet is fired and the time it hits its intended target.

There's much, much more horrific stuff in this film I could easily recount, but my fingers are starting to cramp.