This is quite honestly the most abhorrent piece of refuse I've ever had the displeasure to waste multiple minutes of my life on. By the end of the film--just kidding I didn't have the courage to expose my brain to that sort of nuclear waste for such a longer period of time. But "by the end" of the film, I presumed I had acquired 50 Cent's tumor from the movie, as I found it difficult to complete such simple tasks as eating, sleeping, and communication with other people. Instead, I found myself in a temporary stupor in which all I could think of were big booty bitches, the fact that 50's acting was comparable to Bill Clinton's infidelity denials, and which blade in my kitchen would be most suitable to a self-inflicted wound to the noggin. If we as a nation want to win the War on Terror, albeit in an inhuman manner, we must start showing this pathetic excuse for a movie in the jail cells at Guantanamo Bay.
-Andrew D. McClure (lol/jk)