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Simple pleasures
When I have time on my hands, I read. When I have time and an internet connection, I read reviews of bad movies. And the pans of Roger Ebert are some of the best. Bad movies apparently make his brain leak out of his ears. He cannot comprehend how these movies are made, and he pounds the keyboard, pained and wailing, trying to understand. The results are always, always funny. Here are some samples.

– on “Josie and the Pussycats”
Josie and the Pussycats are not dumber than the Spice Girls, but they’re as dumb as the Spice Girls, which is dumb enough.

– on “Little Indian, Big City”
If the third reel had been the missing footage from Orson Welles’ `The Magnificent Ambersons,’ this movie still would have sucked.

– on “Trapped in Paradise”
There’s a scene where several squad cars are chasing three crooks in a horse-drawn sleigh. Why is this supposed to be funny? Why? Why? Why?

– on “The Flinstones in Viva Rock Vegas”
This is an ideal first movie for infants, who can enjoy the bright colors on the screen and wave their tiny hands to the music.

– on “Saving Silverman”
You know you’re in trouble when you’re reduced to praising a movie for its absence of fart jokes, and have to add “almost.”

– on “Mad Dog Time”
The girls share the last name of Everly, so they’re the Everly Sisters–get it? Ho, ho, ho. God, what rich humor this movie offers!

– on “Clifford”
It’s not bad in any usual way. It’s bad in a new way all its own. There is something extraterrestrial about it, as if it’s based on the sense of humor of an alien race with a completely different relationship to the physical universe.

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