Oh Chucky you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind...hey Chucky!

Only the mentally deficient and those of us who can’t resist a Triple-Dog-Dare actually know for a fact what dog poop tastes like, but we do know there’s a reasonably good chance it tastes horrible.

In this same vein, until two hours ago I had never seen a Child’s Play/Chucky movie but I was reasonably certain that I wasn’t missing much, and on my death bed I wouldn’t regret not seeing them.

Like I said, all that was two hours ago, but that was then and this is, as you all know, now. As of this very moment I have tasted the dog poop; I know for a fact the Child’s Play/Chucky movies are horrible.

My daughter goes through phases of types of television shows and movies that she likes, and at the moment she’s tearing through all the DVDs of the first two seasons of Scrubs and wants to watch old and stinky horror movies. The other night she tricked Valarie into watching one of the Freddy Kruger movies with her. Today is was my turn and the price I paid was sitting through Child’s Play III.

I feel like that guy who had to cut his own arm off after it got trapped during a rockslide. It was probably his favorite arm and a lot of things are more difficult to do without it. But, he would have died if he hadn’t cut it off and it’s better to be alive with one arm than dead with two.

Child’s Play III chewed up two hours of my life I’ll never get back, and I’m pretty sure that exposure to the film has caused my brain to become even soggier than it was before. But, I did get to spend two hours giggling with my daughter on the couch, mocking the moronic teens in the movie, and it did mean a lot to her, so I’m pretty sure that my glass is half full.

And it could be worse. I still have both my arms.

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