Bomb Rating: 

Operating under a principle my grandmother taught me -- that you can dispel pain in one area of your body by causing pain in another -- I brought a turkey thermometer to "Ringmaster" and right before the film started, I jammed it into my urethra. Unfortunately, it was the mental torture of the film that made me forget about the turkey thermometer in my penis and not the other way around

The moral message of this masterpiece comes from Jerry (Jerry Springer) when he mumbles something about how we spend our whole lives watching vapid rich people expose their private lives in public, but when vapid poor people do it, suddenly the practice is disgusting.

I feel compelled to correct Mr. Springer on this count. It happens to be more than just a tad disgusting when a 300-pound woman who hasn't bathed in months decides to disgorge herself from her double-wide, show up on the Springer set, tear off her tube top and proceed to pummel her semi-toothed boyfriend about the head and shoulders with watermelon-sized, flaccid gray breasts. I would not be quite so repulsed to witness an in-depth interview with a literate hottie like, say, Janeane Garofalo. Contrary to what Jerry might think, humans are capable of creating standards. To summon the popular melodic Sesame Street refrain: "One of these things is not like the others."

As for the film, it's kind of a pseudo-documentary as a trailer-park mother and daughter, and a group of black female friends, attempt to get on Jerry's show. The mother (Molly Hagan) finds the daughter (Jaime Pressly) sleeping with her stepfather, while Starletta (Wendy Raquel Robinson) discovers her boyfriend (Michael Jai White) sleeping with just about any biped capable of assuming a horizontal position. The pain and stupidity in this film curled my toes the wrong way. By the time it was over, removing that turkey thermometer was a thing of majesty. I am King Arthur. Behold Excalibur!

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