“Ed” is movie about a monkey who can play baseball and the shitty pitcher who befriends him. There is a mechanical chimp in this movie. Worse, there is a Matt LeBlanc in this movie. Here is a trailer, which, you will surely find, is mortifying in its breadth:
Jack “Duece” Cooper: I am going to spank that monkey!
He’s not talking about masturbating. He’s talking about beating a chimp with an open hand in order to impart some kind of lesson or set in motion the oft-taught cinematic lesson of regeneration through violence.
“Ed” is memorable. That one time you got hobo spit in your eyes was memorable in the same manner. And that’s apparently how the movie chooses to spell the word better known as “Deuce,” which, in the full light of its atrocities, is fine, I suppose.
It would seem that $6.288 million worth of human beings paid to suffer the afflictions of “Ed,” a movie, let us remember, about a baseball player and a chimp and the poo jokes that bind them.
Distinction withers. No one is named “Woodrow” anymore. People make movies like “Ed.” The world spins on its axis in a numbing dance. Fools like us mistake the ending for endlessness.
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