A movie starring Ice Cube that he doesn’t say "muthafucka" in is like a day without sunshine, and it’s happening a little too much these days for my tastes, thank you very goddamned much. It’s said that the ancient Egyptians loved food so much that they’d vomit, and eat said vomit, just to enjoy the experience all over again. And that’s what Hollywood did with this movie. The neighborhood barbershop that people just hang out in comes under threat by big business, and it’s up to formulaic circumstances, some snappy snaps, and good old fashioned Negro wisdom to pull Calvin (Ice Cube) and the rest of the neighborhood out of this one. Barbershop 2 is nothing special at all; just dumb fun (depending on your IQ.) It’s just an excuse for a studio to make some mo of all the brothers’ and sisters’ money, implementing a proven formula that works. See how many times The Man can remake the same film before it’s no longer cost effective. By the way, you know how Queen Latifah is in this one as the stylist at the next door salon? This is the same thing as sticking The Rock in that second Mummy movie to get you psyched for The Scorpion King. Except this time it will be called Beauty Shop. Now brothers and sisters, are you really going to allow The Man to continue to steal your hard earned money that you could be bettering yourself with? We’re finally starting to wise up and not spend it on ripple and high gravity malt liquor. Not spending it on crack, weed, heroin, or any other poison. But people, shitty movies are just another way that The Man is trying to pacify you! BLACK RAGE!!! BLACK RAGE!!!

Miracle is exactly that. It’s a goddamned miracle that you can make a decent movie without excessive swearing, sex, and most of all, excessive special effects. If you’re a jar-necked sports fanatic that kicks in a wall when your team loses, and cries when they win, you no doubt know that Miracle is the true story of the American hockey team getting ready for the 1980 Olympics. Kurt Russell is their coach, who almost got to play on the Olympic team himself, and it’s his job to turn these ragtag misfits into a team that shits thunder and pisses lightning. Miracle was pretty good (in comparison to such in-theaters-now sizzlers as You Got Served, The Perfect Score, and The Big Bounce), because for every sports move cliché that it stepped in like a sundried dog turd, it avoided five. I’ll admit that I’m pretty wary of hockey movies taking place in the late ‘70s that don’t have the Hanson brothers, stripteasing on ice, haggard wardrobe choices, and more than moderate profanity. But Miracle was worth the time I put into viewing it. It’s one of those movies you go see with your dad when you want to butter him up, because you can’t afford to pay your rent that month. War movies are good for that too. And James Bond movies. Bond movies are good for when that happens too. Not that I’ve ever done that. And if you have no ulterior motive, you can just have fun together by crosschecking people into the concession stand.

Shit on a stick! Have you ever wondered why any kid between the ages of oh, I don’t know—let’s say eight or nine and up to let’s say sixteen or seventeen is so goddamned mentally deficient? Developmental psychologists blame the parents, for spoiling them and serving their ungrateful asses opportunities that kids on the other side of the tracks would kill (heh, heh) to have. The theory there is if you get lazy, you get stupid. My own personal theory is that if you feed their underdeveloped and grossly impressionable brains this kind of shit, they will turn as dumb as a bowl of mice! Don’t believe me? Look at what your kids, your siblings’ kids, ANY kid is watching. Do you get Spongebob Squarepants? Can you honestly say that it’s clever and your kid can benefit from it? (Okay. I’ll get off my soapbox now. It just occurred to me that the same can be said about this fine, fine publication for which I write.) Plot in a nutshell: The girl in the commercial’s dad needs a $250,000 operation because he’s paralyzed. Cocksucking nazi HMO won’t cover the operation and the piece of shit bank won’t lend her mother the money. So the director starts making a kids’ version of a cross between Ocean’s 11, Mission Impossible, and various spy and heist movies with a dash of "Kim Possible" thrown in for good measure. (The only reason I know about "Kim Possible" is that I don’t have cable and there’s absolutely nothing on over the weekends.) Crap crap crap crap crap. I realize that this movie (with its only shred of credibility being that Jodie Foster’s daughter in David Fincher’s Panic Room plays the main character) is geared toward kids and not expected to be wholly enjoyed by adults, but this movie really sucked. Stick Ashton Kutcher in it somewhere and you’d be looking at 100% USDA, unadulterated shit. If you’re seriously looking for something really fun to watch with your kids, or just to watch a great movie, introduce them to the Marx brothers. Charlie Chaplin. "Family Guy." And if your kids aren’t watching "The Simpsons," expect a visit from Child Protective Services any day now.

Never the biggest Adam Sandler fan, I was impressed with Punch Drunk Love. Here he showed that he was capable of being more than the typical idiotic guy he plays in every one of his movies. Then he made Anger Management and any tiny spark of hope (for lack of a better term) I had flew off in the wind. Although he plays himself (aren’t you supposed to get three Oscars before you start doing that?) in this and just about every movie, he plays a different variation of himself in 50 First Dates. In this movie, he’s just afraid of commitment, and when he falls, it’s for a girl with no short-term memory. Think Memento with animals (Sandler plays a marine biologist.) It’s a fun movie for Valentine’s Day, but that’s about it.