Hot Rod made me wish I actually had three hot rods in the seat next to me. The first one I would put in my ears, in the hopes that watching it without sound would be tolerable. Then I would stick a hot rod in my eye for sweet relief. After the much deserved sweet relief, I would stick the last hot poker in my brain to end my life as punishment for agreeing to see such a horrific movie all the way through.

This "movie" did bring out the engineering side of me, for which I am grateful. About half-way through the movie, lost to boredom, I began to ponder the mechanics of creating a giant beer baited trap that would launch any of these cinematic dumbasses past the Milky Way. Long gone would be the questions like, "Who would win in a fight; grilled cheese or a taco." Away past my delicate ears would be "I like to party." Zooming toward a black hole would be the fate of the stupid, red and yellow Hot Rod cape. While I’m at it, good bye Akiva Schaffer (director) and Pam Brady (written by), you deserve the crystallization of your blood that the chills of outer space would bring. Then our world would be safe from those people who would defile our sensibilities.

Hot Rod is a shameless dick-flick. All the guys in the theater were laughing and the women were rolling their eyes at the guys. Guys, save your marriage and go with a friend.