I slowly sat down into the back so I wouldn't absorb all of the film at once. Visual pain happens to be real; proven so by Freidberg & Seltzer. These are the guys that should scare you, not German mogul Uwe Boll. As the film opened with a CGI rendering of earth morphing into an asteroid and the title of the film exploding on screen, I realized where much of the 20 million dollar budget went. I already can't believe people fund this shit.
A retarded running gag of cows falling on Pop Culture icons.
I sat through a tedious and yawn-rendering spoof of 10,000 B.C., then watched that turn into a spoof of American Gladiators, then Amy Winehouse, Indiana Jones, then something else that had no relation to disaster movies. I feel my stomach slowly turning in it's rightful place. Soon some douche bag model wakes up in his bed. What starts as a slight odor of a plot, Flavor of Love is soon spoofed, followed by several other television shows and Soulja Boy. Cue the vomit arising in my mouth.
I sat through around 15 to 20 minutes of this mind-numbing inane film and morally retarded filth and all I got was a vomit stain on my t-shirt. The ONLY parts that amused me: The No Country for Old Men spoof, and the non-stop Juno mocking. Juno had it coming. I feel slightly unable to perform my natural motor skills. I love working at a theater for every reason other than this. I should start working on rigging a death trap for anyone who buys a ticket for this film. I walked out after that 15 minutes of purgatory. I sat silent during the car ride home.