How About I Crumble You, John Cusack

A movie about the end of the world marketed with a statue of me crumbling into the sea? Really, John Cusack? This is the kind of film you're interested in starring in these days? Did you like seeing my Rio statue break apart and return to dust? Did you?

Well, I've got news for you, Cusack, I don't care how cute you were in Say Anything, or how often the Holy Spirit and me make "top five" lists and quote High Fidelity in our daily conversation. Just because Being John Malkovich is my favorite movie ever doesn't mean you can blaspheme, you Sixteen Candles piece of shit. Yeah, that's right, me and John Hughes have been chilling in the Pearly Gates lately and he called you a phoney. Suck on that, Cusack.

Just because Dad has long been against graven images doesn't mean you can act in movies where statues of me are demolished, Cusack. And you really think the Mayan calendar foretells the end of the world? You think that's some really profound, edgy stuff? Maybe you should read a little page-turner I like to call The Book of Revelations. Four horsemen of the apocalypse. Lake of fire. A thousand-year tribulation. The mark of the beast. That fire and brimstone shit is way more badass than some CGI water and earthquakes anyway.

The only thing preventing me from having Dad turn you into a pillar of salt and stomping you to pieces myself like your were a snowman is your sister, Joan. I kind of have a thing for her, she's like a shrill female version of you and I don't want to inconvenience her with attending your funeral. But so help me, if you're ever involved in something that destroys my likeness again, you won't be so lucky.

Nobody fucks with the Jesus.