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It was a cold, rainy night. It was raining... so hard. I knew. I knew how bad it would be. But I... I rented it anyway. Maybe it was because it was new. Maybe I needed some reason, deep down, to give Dane Cook another chance so I wouldn't hate him as much as all the bitter cool kids who won't shut up about how much they'd love to kick him in the nuts as hard as they can.

I don't know why I did it, and I still don't know why I didn't just turn it off at any given moment of its run-time, as there was no minutely amusing moment throughout the entire 101 minutes. Nothing. Not a half-assed snicker, not even a raise of an eyebrow. It's like they got some retarded foreigner to learn English in a week and told him to write a movie, then just sank tens of millions of dollars into making and marketing it.

Maybe it was my plain amazement that a comedy could be this plain old boring, not even accidentally funny, that kept me watching. Nonetheless, I spent a dollar and seven cents on renting it, a whole dollar and seven cents that could've gone to some homeless child in need of a can of soup or a taco, anything a dollar could buy. But it's gone. The tacos is gone forever now, and "Good Luck Chuck" has taken it. My time. The dollar. The taco. If anything, this movie is a lesson to me that every moment and cent I spend could either go to what I'm putting it toward or to a taco for a hungry child.

I still won't say I hate Dane Cook, as much as he seems to be actually out-unfunnying that sack of shit Adam Sandler when it comes to his "comedy" movies, but I will confirm by my soul that everyone on the credits of this motion picture deserves to die as soon as possible.

I guess they can just put Jessica Alba's baby in an incubator or something and hope it survives. Everyone has to die.  And I deserve a lashing for renting it. Excuse me. I have to flog myself.

(no bongs... no hope... watch a rock for two hours and imagine something... maybe it'll be funny).

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