The Razzie

The Razzie

By Ivan Maldonado

            A Razzie is the antithesis to the Oscar. The Oscar rewards the greatest achievements in cinema. The Razzie, on the other hand, is given to film “talents” who are below pond scum. Nobody wants the Razzie, however, many directors, actors, and screenwriters have “won” this disturbing prize. Showgirls, Freddy Got Fingered, and Catwoman are a few movies unfortunate enough to be worthy of Razzie recognition. But these horrible films have paled in comparison for what was in store…



            Three mentally retarded 30-something-year-old men decided to create a movie. The director was a man named Arthur “Potato” Smith. Potato received his nickname, because he had always enjoyed eating school lunches as a lad, especially the school’s moldy, rancid potato salad. He had curly, brown locks, an outrageous overbite, and a puke-green business suit. Potato had just stolen…um, I mean, “borrowed” a camcorder from a nearby middle school.

            Two other men decided to become the actors. One man was named Wilbur “Whiner” Whinopolis. Whiner received his nickname, because had always cried, especially when he fled from bullies, Girl Scouts, gang-bangers, and just about everybody else who wanted to beat his ass. He was a completely bald man with a shaggy black goatee, and he also had a hideous beer gut that stuck out between his white muscle shirt, and tight, blue jeans. The other was named Richard “Dicky” Sandwich. Dicky was gay-beyond-gay. In other words, he made some of the world’s most flamboyant queers appear like homophobic rednecks. He had a Hitler-style haircut with a matching mustache and gold-loop rings through his right ear, nostril, and eyebrow. Dicky also wore gold jewelry and a tight, red dress with matching hooker boots and fishnet stockings.

            “Hey, I’m very excited that you two wanna be in a movie with me!” exclaimed Potato.

            “We’re happy to help, love!” replied a gracious Dicky.

            Whiner added, “Yeah, dis’ll be cool…um…um…What’s duh movie about?”

            Dicky replied, “Yeah! What’s it about? If you’re gonna make a movie, we need to make it about something.”

            Potato bellowed, “SHIT! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?”

            “Dumb-ass, it’s your movie! You’re the freakin’ director!” Dicky snapped.

            “Yeah, I knew that! I was just testing you,” Potato lied through his teeth.

            “I’ve got an idea! We can make a movie about puppy dogs and kitty cats,” said Whiner.

            Dicky suggested, “What about a romantic drama about two cowboys who fall in love with each other? We can call it Brokeback Mountain! This is a guaranteed Oscar!”

            Potato dreamily replied, “Oh, I love that movie! I own almost all the copies in town!”

            Dicky angrily muttered under his breath, “Shit!”

            Whiner stood confused. “I don’t know what duh movie should be about, Potato.”

            Potato had an idea, a lame-brained idea, but one, nonetheless. “Why don’t we just go with the flow?”

“HUH?” questioned Dicky and Whiner.

            “Yeah, we can just make a movie about we do best…BEING OURSELVES!”

            “Heck, yeah!” Dicky and Whiner cheered.

            Potato said, “Today, we will film act one of our movie! Whiner, you will act at Farmer Jones’ ranch!”

            Whiner retorted, “I hope he ain’t gonna shoot me for being on his wanch!”

            Potato replied, “Nah, he won’t! Leave it to me!”



            Moments later, the not-so-talented trio arrived at Farmer Jones’ ranch. They had stopped right at a picket fence that had protected Farmer Jones’ livestock from intruders and vicious predators. Potato decided that for act one, Whiner was to climb the fence, trespass onto the ranch, and make love to a sheep.

            Whiner fearfully asked, “Is it safe for me to cwimb duh fence?”

            “Ah, don’t be a pussy, Whiner! Just climb the stinking fence! You won’t die or nothing!” scolded Potato.

            Potato turned on his camcorder, and attempted to film Whiner’s immoral act of animal cruelty. But, to his dismay, he viewed only darkness and no Whiner!

            “Wow, who turned out the lights?”

            Suddenly, Potato began to view the ranch and an angry, young man who had just removed the camcorder’s lens cap. “Dumb-ass, you left your fucking lens cap on!”

            The livid, young man turned out to be the three idiots’ worst enemy, as well as Whiner’s vicious older brother, David. David was an intelligent and belligerent son-of-a-bitch who despised wannabe niggers, the mentally retarded, and also male homosexuals. However, he was deeply attracted to beautiful lesbians, since it was a “guy thing.” He had long, blond hair that was covered with a backwards, red baseball cap, long muttonchops, and a neatly-trimmed goatee. He also wore a T-shirt that read, “Don’t fuck with me!”

            “What the hell are you faggots doing anyway?” David wondered.

            “Duh, I’m making a movie! You wanna be in it?”

            “Hell, no, fag-wad! What kind of a cock-sucking faggot would watch your goddamn bullshit?”

            “It shows what you know, Mr. Smarty-Pants! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to direct my movie…ACTION!”

            “Oh, God!” David muttered to himself.

            Whiner began to climb the picket fence. Unfortunately, the schmuck lost his balance and fell on the hard, grassy earth that lay in Farmer Jones’ ranch. “CRACK!” went one of Whiner’s body parts.

            “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” bawled Whiner.

            Whiner soon got up to examine his cracked area. The area turned out to be his left, knee, which had shards of bone penetrating the skin and a substantial amount of blood streaming down his leg.

            David chuckled, “Pbbbth…Fucking retard!”

            Potato quickly roared at David, “HEY, JACKASS, I’M FILMING A MOVIE! QUIET ON THE SET!”

            Moments later, Whiner returned to the ranch with a cast and a pair of crutches. He instantaneously noticed a large flock of sheep grazing on the fresh, green grass. However, he was only interested in one sheep – a black ewe. Whiner slowly limped to the ewe. Once he approached the ewe, he developed sexual feelings for the poor animal.

            “Oooooh…So sexy!” Whiner drooled.

            Whiner threw down his crutches and immediately unzipped his pants. Down went his pants, all the way down to his ankles.

            David covered his eyes in disgust. “Oh, god, he’d better not be fucking that sheep!”

            “YOU DUMB-ASS, I’M TRYING TO FUCKING DIRECT THIS DAMN MOVIE! SHUT YOUR GODDAMN PIE-HOLE!” Potato hollered.

            Meanwhile, a bitter, old man had been watching Whiner’s crazy, sinful behavior from inside the farmhouse’s front window. He grabbed his double-barrel shotgun and dashed out of his house. This man turned out to be the notorious Farmer Jones, and he was more than appalled to see what Whiner was attempting.

            “Git duh fuck off mah property!”

            Whiner quickly stopped what he was about to do and attempted to run. Little did he realize, the idiot forgot to pull his pants, thus slowing him in the process. Farmer Jones aimed his shotgun at Whiner and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, Whiner was unable to make a clean getaway. Instead, a bullet caught up with his shiny, bald head, penetrating the skill and causing blood to splatter all over the grass. Whiner fell to the ground and instantly croaked in a puddle of his own blood.

            “Ha, ha!” mocked David. “The little bitch has died and gone to Hell!”

            “You bastard,” wept Dicky, “He’s dead! You killed him, you worthless doo-doo brain! He’s dead…”

            “ASSHOLE!” shouted Potato.

            “He was so young…!” sobbed Dicky. “I wanted to marry him!”

            “Me, too, Dicky, me, too…Anyway, do you wanna go out to eat? It’s my treat!”

            Dicky immediately stopped bellyaching and happily replied, “Sure, why don’t we eat at that fancy French restaurant, La Toilette?”

            “They’d better be serving some school potato salad with them snails!”

            As for Whiner, he did go to Hell, but not for long!



            The two surviving nimrods decided to film act two in David’s apartment. Potato was to film a scene where Dicky tries to seduce David. If Dicky were successful, the two men would affectionately kiss each other. Like before, David was not thrilled that Potato was willing to film a load of crap called a “movie.” Nor was he thrilled that these two idiots were at his apartment, annoying him to high Hell.

            “What the fuck are you assholes doing here?”

            “I’m still filming my movie, duh!” Potato smart-aleckly replied.

            “GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!”

            “Jeez, David, I’m trying to film this exquisite, Oscar-caliber masterpiece, and you’re too mean to let us film here! I guess you’re not gonna win an Oscar, after all!”

“Jesus Christ,” David muttered, while turning on the television. David changed the channel to Cinemax, because he had looked forward to its lesbian porno marathon, all week long. He sat in his recliner and attempted to enjoy his program before being rudely interrupted by loud banging on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” cried Dicky, cheerfully.

Dicky opened the door, and guess who was at David’s front door! It was none other than Whiner, in the flesh! Dicky and Potato rejoiced; they hugged and kissed their friend. As for David, he became extremely pissed-off that his retarded, little brother had been resurrected.

“OH, THAT’S REALLY FUCKING GREAT!” replied David, sardonically. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!”

Whiner answered, “I was dead, but duh Devil didn’t wike me, so he sent me back to Earth!”

“Will you faggots please leave me alone, so I can watch my show?”

“Sure…” lied Dicky, sleazily. Then Potato turned on his camcorder to film act two.

While David sat watching his long anticipated program, Dicky “seductively” strutted over to David. While licking his lips, Dicky eyeballed David.

“Oh, David’s a fine hunk of man!” he said in a pseudo-seductive manner.

Dicky climbed onto David’s lap, severely disturbing this poor soul.

“Get the fuck off my lap, bitch! Are you gay?”

“Yeah, sexy…let’s kiss!”

Dicky tried to plant a wet, juicy kiss on David’s lips before being vigorously shoved off David’s lap and onto the hard floor.

“How rude! You, sir, are no gentleman!” cried an offended Dicky as he propped back onto his feet.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” David replied, sarcastically. “I haven’t been much of a gentleman. Why don’t you wait right here for a second? I’ve got a little present for you.”

“Ooh, goody!”

David left, only to return with a Louisville Slugger.

Sadly, Dicky received the wrong idea. “Are you gonna shove that up my ass? I love it when people shove things up my butt! It makes me very horny!”

“No, Dicky…I’m gonna do THIS!” David struck Dicky in the face with his bat, causing blood and teeth to splatter onto the carpet. Again, David struck Dicky, causing more blood to splatter.

“OW! You’re mean!” screamed Dicky, as he held his bleeding mouth.

“Yeah, and you’re a mother-fucking faggot who is getting his San Francisco ass kicked!”

David continually bashed Dicky until the blatant homosexual was left to die in a pool of his own blood. Like Whiner, Dicky went to hell and was immediately resurrected. However, Dicky was worse than Whiner; he barely spent a second in Hell before the Devil sent him back to Earth for act three.



Act three, the final act, was to be filmed right outside Dicky’s house at 12:30 in the morning, a time when most of the neighborhood was still asleep. Unlike the first two acts, Potato allowed Whiner direct the final act, because Potato wanted to play the accordion and sing a “romantic” tune to Dicky. Dicky was inside his bedroom and looked out the window to see his friends.

“This song is for my true love…Dicky! Yeah, I’m looking at you, sugar-booger!”

Dicky dreamily sighed and waved at Potato.

Potato began to play his accordion and sing, but in a noisy, off-key falsetto, “I AM IN LOVE…A MOST BEAUTIFUL LOOOVE…A LOOOVE THAT CANNOT BE BEEEEAT! I’M IN LOVE WITH A MAN…A MAN NAMED DICKY…I LOVE HIM FROM HIS HEAD TO HIS FEET…I LOVE YOU…! I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE FIRST GRADE… I LOVE YOU…! WE’LL BE TOGETHER LIKE COOKIES AND LEMONAAAAADE…!”

Unfortunately, Potato’s singing was so loud, and so inconsiderate, that it perturbed all of Dicky’s sleepy neighbors, including a bum who had slept in a dumpster at a trailer park next door. The bum, rudely awoken by Potato’s horrendous singing, picked up a chewed-up leather boot that was found among the rubbish in which he lay. He yelled “HEY, NEEDLE-DICK, WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?” and chucked the boot at Potato’s head.

Potato briefly stopped singing and quickly rubbed his head. “OW, ASSHOLE!” Then he continued to play his accordion and sing, horribly. Suddenly, the whole goddamn neighborhood scolded this idiot and angrily told him to stop singing his infernal “love” song.

            One 20-something-year-old college student was so irritated by Potato’s peace-shattering noise pollution, that she immediately called the police. “Hello, Police? We have a disturbance in our neighborhood; some lunatic is disturbing our entire everyone by screeching poorly written love songs. Please, help our neighborhood! We don’t want some crazy guy to disturb the peace.”

            The word immediately went out to the metropolitan police department. They assigned two violent, corrupt officers to take care of the neighborhood’s dilemma. Since the officers had to deal with a loony, they decided to dress up in riot gear and transport a S.W.A.T. van to the unlucky neighborhood. As they arrived, they quickly noticed Potato and dashed to the unsuspecting idiot. 

            “LET’S GET MARRIED AND ADOPT SOME CHILDREN…OUR LOVE IS TRUUUUE…I LOVE YOU…! I KNOW YOU—”

            WHACK! The first officer had whacked Potato in his right eye with a nightstick, causing it to bleed, profusely.

            “OW, MOTHER-FUCKER!”

            The other officer grabbed a TASER and injected major voltage into Potato, nuking his insides and frying his skin.

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! WHAT THE HELL? I WAS JUST ACTING IN MY MOVIE! IS THAT ILLEGAL?”

            The two officers tackled Potato to the hard, asphalt street. Then one officer strangled the retard with his nightstick, while the second delivered a devastating kick to Potato’s ribs, causing him to cough up a substantial amount of blood.

            “Hey, faggot, you’re under fucking arrest for disturbing the peace!” said the first cop.

            The second policeman added, “And we ain’t reading you no Miranda Rights! Your ass will fry in jail, bitch!”

            The whole neighborhood wildly cheered on the two officers as they arrested a bloodied Potato, threw him in the back of the S.W.A.T. vehicle, and hauled his sorry ass to the city jail. There went the horrid, final act of the three morons’ crappy movie! Sadly, these idiots distributed their film, shortly after.



            A month later, the movie was released into selected theatres, under the title, Our Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, VERY Big Movie! Why was the movie only in select theatres, you ask? The movie sucked balls, terribly, and was played at only the shoddiest and most dilapidated drive-ins in America. Sadly, only four people watched the movie, but they only watched its first, horrendous five minutes before leaving in utter disgust.

These four people were stern film critics; among the critics, were Roger Ebert and Richard Roeper.

            On Ebert & Roeper, the two famous critics spent an entire half-hour, trash-talking this awful film. Here are a few of their comments:

            Roeper commented, “This is the worst movie the world has ever seen! Although tickets for this shit-fest are a penny, apiece, do not waste your money seeing it! It will dumb you down, and make you decide to film your own disaster-piece! This movie deserves negative ten stars!”   

            Ebert added, “Who the hell would film this fucking movie? I think the entire world should find these three schmucks and disembowel the bastards!”

            Unfortunately, the movie was so bad, that neither Ebert nor Roeper gave the film a “thumbs-up.” Nor did they give it “two thumbs-down.” Since the flick was so distasteful, they, instead, flipped off the idiots on live television, giving the movie “two middle fingers-up.”

            Not only did the four critics loathe the movie, word-of-mouth circulated the world, informing everybody to boycott the film. Newspapers, including The New York Times, printed acidic comments, such as “A World in Mourning: A Moronic Film Hits Theatres!”

            While the world boycotted the film, the dumb-fuck trio lay in bed, together, to attempt to read a copy of the New York Times. Since the three imbeciles were illiterate, they were incapable of reading the world’s vile cinematic replies, and could only make out their picture on the front page.

            “Wow, they love us! The whole world loves us! We’re gonna win an Oscar, for sure!” yelled a naïve Potato.

            “YAY!” screamed Whiner and Dicky.



            The following evening, the trio was invited to an awards ceremony. They believed that they were all nominated for Academy Awards. Yet, their feeble minds were misled by the invitation. Instead of receiving Oscar recognition like they had dreamt, they, in reality, had all been nominated for worst film award ever – the Razzie!

            Throughout the ceremony, the retards were nominated for Razzies in virtually every category, including Worst Actor, Worst Director, Worst Picture of the Year, and Worst Picture Ever! So far, they received all the Razzies – yet, they were thrilled to win their “Oscars” – except for Worst Picture Ever, which wasn’t given, yet!

            Fellow Razzie-winner Tom Green walked to the podium to hand out the Worst Picture Ever Razzie. “…And the Razzie goes to…Arthur “Potato” Smith, Wilbur “Whiner” Whinopolis, and Richard “Dicky” Sandwich for Our Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, VERY Big Movie!”

            “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!” screamed the idiotic trio, as they hugged and kissed each other. The idiots walked to the stage and accepted their last Razzie.

            “YES! OSCARS! WE’VE WON ALL THE OSCARS TONIGHT! YOU GUYS SUCK, BECAUSE YOU AIN’T GOT NOTHING! PBBTH!” jeered a cocky Potato.

            Tom Green said, “Okay…”

Potato believed that Tom Green was about to steal the trio’s Razzies, so decided to act like a snarling dog to protect the trophies. “IT’S MY OSCAR, BITCH! GGGRRRRWWWLLL! GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLL!”

This threatened Tom Green so much, that he had security remove the trio, especially Potato, from the podium. The trio did it…They managed to sweep the Razzie ceremony and actually be proud of it. Not only did they confuse the Razzie for the Academy Award, they also weren’t able to tell the difference between their asses and a hole in the ground.



On the first morning after the actual Academy Awards, the Razzled trio went to disgruntled David’s apartment to show off their bag of “Oscars.” Dicky knocked on the front door, and David reluctantly opened it.

“What the hell are you faggots doing at my front door?” asked David. David had his long hair in pony tail and wore a clean, black tuxedo.

“Duh, we’ve got something to show you!” responded a smart-mouthed Potato.

“Why are you dwessed wike a penguin, Dave?” asked Whiner.

“Dressed like a penguin?” laughed David. “I ain’t dressed like a penguin! I’m havin’ a party!”

Potato was confused. “Why are you having a party, dumb-ass! You didn’t win no Oscars! We won all of them!” He took out a Razzie and handed to David.

David hysterically laughed, “Yeah, right, nimrod! Come inside!”

David and the idiots went inside the apartment. Inside the apartment, were voluptuous, seductive, bikini-clad women and the band, Metallica. James Hetfield, Metallica’s lead singer, was singing “St. Anger,” and all the women partied like it was 1999. The guys encountered a trophy case that was holding an Oscar statuette.

“See?” asked David.

Dicky looked disgusted and replied, “What the hell is that gold-plated thing? It looks like a short, bald, naked man!”

“This, dumb-ass, is my Oscar!” David responded. “Amazing, I received it last night for being the Best Supporting Actor in your faggoty, little movie.”

Potato snapped, “That ain’t no Oscar, you dummy! That’s a fucking Razzie, you retard!”

David snapped back, “Of course, it’s an Oscar, you dip-shit! If I weren’t an Oscar-winning actor, then why the fuck am I throwing this kick-ass party?”

“BULLSHIT! THAT AIN’T NO OSCAR…! Right, Dicky?”

“I agree with Potato,” Dicky shouted.

Potato added, “Am I right, Whiner?”

But Whiner didn’t respond. Instead, he watched two lesbians make out.

“EW!” Whiner squirmed. “She kissed another girl!”

“Dude, what the fuck’s wrong with that? You guys are just a bunch of fucking queers! NOW GET OUTTA MY APARTMENT BEFORE I CAP YOUR ASSES!”

The retarded trio took their Razzies and immediately left David’s apartment.

            “Jeez, that David sure is dumb!” said Potato.

            “HELL, YEAH!” bellowed Dicky and Whiner.

            “But…I feel hollow, you guys! We have won all these Oscars, and I’m beginning to miss those good, old days when we made our movie,” Potato sulked, wiping a tear from his eye.

            “Yeah…” said Potato’s friends.

            “Hey, I’ve got an idea! We can make another movie, but our next movie will be even better than our first!”

            Dicky and Whiner sang, “YAY! We get to make a movie!”



            So, there you have it, our idiotic trio had won all the Razzies and had decided to create a second movie. May God have mercy on the world’s souls!