David Duchovy may impregnate me at will

by Ben

Dear sweet baby Jesus. Really? Can it be?

Yes. It is.

It’s like motherfucking Christmas morning when I was seven years old. It’s like that birthday I got enough Power Ranger toys to sate me for a decade. It’s like the first time I pulled out the Lego set as a grownup (well, relatively speaking). It’s like the second time I tried cannabis. Or maybe when I figured out how to chug a beer.

An original movie. So original, in fact, that I might go back and watch it again right now, just so I can revel and bask and bathe in its glory. I want to drink it, smoke it, eat it, fuck it, massage it, can it, run around the block with it on training wheels, watch it succeed in life, put it in the freezer, then pull some out in a year and then melt it down so I can parachute it up my butt, have tantric bathtub sex with it, buy it its first car, and build a tree fort with it.

Well, maybe not so much that last one.

But mother of God, The Joneses is fucking spectacular. I really want to just say “fuck” a lot here, because along with “cunt” and “twat” (or even “twatting”) it’s my most expressive and versatile vocabulary tool. But I can’t, because then I’d be insulting what a miraculous achievement this film is. And what’s more, I feel great about labeling this a “film,” because it’s beyond normal cinematic bliss. It’s like when I realized Miley Cyrus’ birthday was today, or the first time I saw Avatar in 3D, or the time I went to the Hellboy 2 press screening so high I thought the little plastic horns they passed out were part of my face.

And best of all, David Duchovny stars. If there is one man I would allow to violate my anus, it would be David Duchovny. He’s as if Jesus decided to mash up the best parts of Kobe Bryant, Bill Clinton, Harrison Ford, Brendan Frasier, Alec Baldwin, Robert Downey (Jr), that dead race car driver, Buzz Aldrin, Buzz Lightyear, Woody Harrelson, and that guy who dug through a mountain with nothing but hammers. And then added the Force, Wicca magic, whatever they use in Harry Potter, and whatever magic keeps Rachel McAdams’ pants on. Ever since I was bestowed Californication I can’t get enough of this guy. I even have a gigantic poster of his face (framed by his gorgeous locks) above my bed so I can dream of a life where we could be together.

Oh and Amber Heard totally shows her boobies.

While I can certainly admit Duchovny (and Demi Moore’s chin) is the driving force behind The Joneses’ success, the strength of its premise and the quality of its execution might well have succeeded regardless. Not that I could even fathom such a possibility, of course. I don’t really even want to mention the plot/story/narrative/[other literary shit] because it really is so original. Sadly, if you’ve read the synopsis it’ll probably give it away; in my case, I hadn’t even heard of this one until I picked it off the shelf and chucked it in my PS2 before bed. Well, it’s 04:00 and I stayed up to watch the whole goddamned thing.

I was worried when the gimmick behind The Joneses was revealed early on, and I still think it could have been put off for a bit longer and retained its glorious appeal. But then the DVD kept spinning and after two minutes I didn’t give a shit.

Part black comedy, part drama, part teen angst, and part romantic chick flick, The Joneses is 100% fucking awesome. Trust me, I’m not even drunk.

Conclusion: Every time David Duchovny faced the screen I came