“When I was a boy my dad told me the story of the frog and the caterpillar. The frog was sitting on a snowy branch when he”

“This story is taking too long and no one cares so let’s go kill these sons of bitches!!”

The above is a very close rendition of a couple of lines of dialogue from this movie that made me laugh out loud and I’ve seen this thing three or four times now. I’m not really into comedy that much – I mean I like it as much as the guy who prefers horror movies I guess – like I absolutely don’t like obnoxious shit like Anchorman or that one loud lady from Saturday Night Live that yells all that time but I really like this thing. It’s also not really filled with irritating unnecessary-ness aside from more common screaming about children trying to eat you but the humor is more subtle. Plus I totally < 3 Nasim Pedrad and come on Dwight Schrute is here and even the guy from 30 Rock was funny and Elijah Wood was pretty good and then with all of these comedians in it it was actually funny in the right places and then nice and squishy in the others.

In this groundbreaking treatise on the American poultry’s influence on youth and welfare, two observant filmmakers who live outside of the United States make their case without being here to witness anything first hand that youths who have not reached the age of puberty are more likely to succumb to brain deafening and rabies inducing effects of eating tainted frozen chicken nuggets. “Detestable!” they claim, wearing berets and waiving their fingers around, calmly typing on typewriters and smoking balled up hasheesh. “Americans are terrible and live in their own filth! I had a hard life going to work in my rusting Rolls Royce and look where I am today! I write the truth! Garfield, bring me some oil free sardines!” Elsewhere, back in this movie, prepubescent children are running around the streets of New York kissing other like-aged youths and giving them cooties. “Smooch smooch smooch you stink like my pooch!” teases someone, leaving them dazed in a cootified face. “Kissy kissy don’t be a sissy!” screams someone else, leaving a trail of itchy cooties behind her. “SPINE TINGLER!!!” hisses someone else entirely but no one will get that joke except for my friend Chris who probably hasn’t read my blog in four years. “I never learned how to read!” Cries Chris defending himself and his pitiful absence from my humor filled, fun and exciting space on the World Wide Web. “Yes you did you son of a bitch I saw you reading in 1987 when we first met you liar you were at the lunch table reading a beat up old copy of that book with the guys hand with a knife in it *scratches head nervously that one by the jaws guy *sweats *tics what the fuck was it called the island the fucking island is what it was I saw you reading it that day in the lunch room you son of a bitch yeah I saw it you can’t pull the wool over my eyes I’m no fool you old savings and loan I saw it I saw it!” “Yeah but” Chris tried to defend himself. “Just wait until I get home you bag of shit,” I say pacing around with finger pointing up in the air. “yeah you just wait buddy boy oh man I’m gonna prove you were reading that book because I was there with Aaron and James and James was all ‘look at that white guy readin’ over there just sitting’ there reading a book’ and Aaron was all ‘I know what that’s all about my momma used to tell me she liked readin’ so much she sometimes didn’t even know when daddy got home and wanted to do his daddy business she was readin’ so hard and she even missed the moon landing she was readin’ but yeah she was readin’ when my daddy came home from the Ten Pins and did some business and she said I was born later on that year and then she didn’t have time for more readin’ cause I was on the tit so much she said I must’ve got it from daddy but there went her readin’” and I was all that kid’s readin’ a book with a guy with a knife in his hand on the cover let’s throw a pickle at him so we did and you wanted to fight but instead we’ve been friends ever since almost forty years now.”

Further, the “documentarian” “Frenchman” goes on a tirade about how processed chicken meats are detestable and calls for an end to poultry murder unless it is done properly in someone’s back yard like his ancestors have for a century. “Oui! We don’t use the toilet and shit in a hole in the ground look how we are more civilized than the diseased American child.” He adds “Oui” before lighting another cigarette and very slowly, very very slowly bringing his wrist up to his lips, stating at the camera in a way that can only be described as “he wants to mount you” then blows three smoke rings and whispers “oui” once more. He stands, awkwardly yet poignant, disciplined in the arts and tastes. He is not wearing pants but, instead, a tutu, frilled and puffed. He places his arms above his head and, pushing smoke out his mouth like a train smokestack, glides out of the shot leaving the viewer looking through a window into his vineyard, nude men and women harvesting expensive grapes. They are tanned and bronzed and muscled and scarred from years under the whip, yet they tool away, a staunch reminder of the French caste system, picking and picking and in the true model of French art, we can see them weeping. Are they weeping for their ancestors’ dreams of freedom without burden? Are they weeping for their descendants who have been cruelly sold from them to pick fruits on other men’s lands? How has life become like this? Free at birth the sun shown bright and the breeze tickled the skin. Now they toil, backs bent and toes curled. And now, from the right, we can see the documentarian gliding his way into the shot once more, his tutu is disheveled now, something has ruptured its organized circumference. There it is. We see it now as he approaches one of his subjects. It is his small French penis and it is aroused. He engages one of the men first! A quick and sour rendering of the sex act as he openly sobs during his sorry attempt at ejacula-

And that’s why I use Steve Loggins!!

OK. All right all right. Cooties is about a girl who eats some tainted chicken during lunch and gets rabid and starts scratching the other kids who go crazy and start killing everyone. The adults try and fight for their lives and for real I think this movie is hilarious.

Eventually they get to a point when all seems lost and Dwight Schrute I mean the coach comes in to save everyone’s ass and the janitor guy is there too and he surveys the scene and says with great delight:

“And now the frog can fuck the caterpillar??!!”

So! Does the frog fuck the caterpillar? Do the French servants rise up and revolt?? Does their overlord issue a statement claiming that his larger penis was cut off in a strange skiing accident next to the ski lift over in Alsace and replaced with a much smaller one??? Does Chris ever come clean and admit to his ability to read???? Will he ever engage the Eric Undead blog????? Will stupid ass spellcheck ever just recognize Undead and not change it to Indeed causing me regular, consistent irritation?????? Will Pedrad’s character ever figure out why evolution only left hair on the head and the crotch??????? Probably not!

FILED UNDER: HER HEAD LOOKS LIKE AN ASSHOLE IF AN ASSHOLE HAD AN ASSHOLE AND CRAWLING AROUND LIKE SOME HOBBIT