It's what America's eating!

The audience thinned to three hearty souls as The Assassination of Jesse James blah blah blah ground away at our hearts, its relentless turtle-like pace rolling over us as if we were road kill in the path of a giant steamroller.

Seven hours later, the film finally behind us, the last bit of Brad Pitt's threatening madness scraped from our shirts and pants, we opened email to find a gem from John.

Holy crap! We have to make this. It was just the laugh we needed. Maybe it will save you, too.

Just don't eat it.