And that’s okay.

The beginning is just the tip of the tongue and cheek sandwich. Richard Dreyfuss has re-donned his Matt Hooper rumpled scientist togs from Jaws down to the glasses, and goes about re-creating the classic moment—in a boat, all alone, on a vast body of water, singing “Show Me the Way to Go Home.”

A seismic rumble cracks open an underground cavern—”You mean a lake under the lake?” asks Sheriff Julie Forester. Why, yes, —one that is filled with prehistoric piranhas. If I get my science correct, that means that basically these bad boys are the scary dino-version of our modern-day nibblers, which essentially means they are even uglier and angrier and and bigger and remarkably precise. They can, for instance, remove a bikini top without drawing blood, though they do invariably go back for the kill.

If you’re in the market to see a movie like Piranha 3D, you’re probably not expecting Oscar nominations, despite the cast’s pandering to the Academy in the hilarious For Your Consideration video. No, if you’re going to see Piranha 3D, you’re in the market to see Lake Havasu Spring Break get turned into a meat grinder. And you won’t be disappointed. The movie may be the bloodiest movie ever made. No, literally, the production apparently burned through an obscene 7,000 gallons of fake blood, and had tanker trucks on set filled with the crimson liquid. Add that to the masterful work of effects team Greg Nicotero and Howard Berger, whose shredded body parts look so realistic, the film was banned from being shown at the 2010 Comic-Con.

And then there’s the second most important reason to see Alex Aja’s latest gore-fest: nudity. This is definitely a man’s movie. Let me rephrase that, this is every horny teenager’s wet dream. You don’t just get choice boobage from the likes of Kelly Brook and a vast array of other hot college girls, you get to see everything literally pop out at you in 3D!

And last but not least, we get to the cast. Look, churning a lake full of half-naked party chicks into fish bait isn’t nearly as fun when it’s a cast of nobodies. Thankfully, Aja has populated his film with a lot of familiar faces. We get Elisabeth Shue as the headstrong town sheriff, Ving Rhames as her ass-kicking deputy, Jerry O’Connell as a sleazy Joe Francis ripoff that gets all the best lines in the movie, Christopher Lloyd as an aquarium owner who’s nuttier than Doc Brown, and even Eli Roth as a wet t-shirt contest emcee. TV stars Jessica Szohr and Steven R. McQueen get thrown in the mix.

Whether the acting is good or bad is neither here nor there, all you need is for the performances to be believable enough to enjoy the ride. Luckily enough, the cast does one better and adds an extra layer to an otherwise campy horror premise, while Aja’s use of 3D redefines the term “eye-popping”, though not because the stereoscopic conversion is really stellar.

Piranha 3D is quite fun, especially in the thick of it. It’s unfortunate, though, that the third act lacks a sense of urgency. But again, let’s check the list: popcorn, soda, brain on “off”. Okay, it gets a pass … but still, it could have been more exciting.

If you can get past the flaws scattered throughout, it’s a great flick to watch with a bunch of your friends on one of the final weekends of the summer. It’s damn fun, and off the hook bloody. All good, clean R-rated 3D fun. Or an attempt in that direction.

The toddler was sent with his mother to an intensive care specialist for one month. He received psychosocial therapy and was forced to play with less mature-looking peers.

Sure, he’s quit now, but let’s see how he does once he enters kindergarten and the real life stress begins.

Rodney McCreary, Gilberto Matos, Derrella Winfrey and Wilfredo Matos were caught by police when an off-duty cop saw them stuffing video games down their pants at a Toys ‘R Us in Annapolis. The officer followed them to their car, saw the four men leave and then called in some on-duty cops to make the bust. When police searched the men’s car, though, they found a lot more than just a few games from a single Toys ‘R Us.

Instead, they found 219 video games, along with road maps and a long list of Toys ‘R Us stores right down the aforementioned East Coast. Police are now investigating which stores on the maps had already been robbed and which hadn’t, while the four alleged perpetrators have been released on $50,000 bond.

Guys, how about next time, trying for something a little more valuable or worthwhile, okay? Or at least something that won’t make you somebody’s play thing in jail.

For example, you can hear an automated message over the intercom informing you that you are about to crash. That’s what the the passengers on a British Airways flight from London to Hong Kong. They were actually doing just fine, the pilot hit the wrong switch. Whoops!

And, by “goods,” I mean solid advice about the early detection and treatment of breast cancer.

What? What’s the matter? Why do you look so disappointed?

Was it the title of the column and 140 character first sentence synopsis that you found on Twitter? My gratuitous use of the words “tits” and “boobs” when I’m clearly talking about plain old breasts? Diseased breasts at that?

Then you now understand why I don’t care much for “Save the Tatas” or “I <3 Boobies” breast cancer awareness campaigns: they’re in poor taste.

Ever since I was 10-years-old, I understood one thing: the promise of “boobies” means the delivery of quality, sometimes hand-crafted knockers that will bring on Boner Time. (Boner Time is followed by Strange Feelings Time and then Nap Time.)

One of the key factors to defeating a disease like cancer is a positive mental attitude. And when I need to think positively, I think of boobs. Lots of boobs. And they all want me to do my very best.

That’s no lie. It’s the only reason I was able to bootstrap my way through geometry: a vague, unaccountable promise that a C would deliver Pythagorean groupies.

Would I be able to sexualize those sweet, sweet cans if they had cancer? Well, probably, but I’d still want to take it easy on them. You know, so I don’t make it worse or something. I did eat a lot of microwave ravioli in those days.

Now consider straight men with cancer. Chances are that their recovery plan ends with winning the Tour de France and playing with as many chesticles as can be safely handled before a brain aneurysm. (That happens at 71 racks, which is why dead terrorists get 72 virgins in their heaven.)

Would you give recovering cancer patients cancer breasts?

If you’re thinking, “Well, that guy has cancer, so what’s the difference?” then you are a horrible, awful human being.

Say you’ve eaten nothing but peanut butter your entire life, so much peanut butter that even thinking about it makes you a little sick. And then, when some beautiful woman offers you a sandwich, she gives you a peanut butter-and-fried-banana sandwich, which is double-gross because, bananas remind you of spotted dongs.

What I’m saying is that he, or a lesbian in the same situation, has had enough cancer.

It’s the same for male parts:

• Balls are dead sexy; testicles herniate.
• Chodes are scrum-diddly-umptious; coccyges have incurable warts.
• Dicks stir the lightest, frothiest mousse; penises get caught in pool intakes.
• Pecs are powerful; man breasts on some occasions get cancer.

In the end, let’s keep cancer off of gazongas and leave it on breasts. There’s no reason for words like “tits” and “funbags” to lose their pizazz.

After all, hasn’t cancer already taken so much of what we love?

Are you in love? Does he or she know? Well, whatever you do about it, for the love of God, don’t buy them flowers.

Flowers, or plant genitals, have long been part of human custom: weddings, birthdays, apologies and funerals. And funerals is just what posies have in mind when they spontaneously combust (i.e., terror explode) and cause $20,000 worth of damage to an Arkansas home.

The whole incident could have been avoided had the Duncans re-potted or even just watered their plant, but the United States does not negotiate with amaranths.

So why didn’t anyone tell Hadley Jons that?

Jons, a Michigan juror for a resisting arrest trial, decided that her mind was made up regarding the verdict. Unfortunately, the prosecution hadn’t quite finished its case yet. Double unfortunately, she decided to let her Facebook friends (and thereby, everyone on the internet) know exactly what her verdict was. That’s not what we call a smart decision.

The defense attorney subsequently let the judge know about this once the information was revealed. Jons was removed from the case and could potentially face some time in a jail cell (if the defense attorney has anything to say about it). While it’s probably increasingly difficult in this day and age to find an unbiased jury due to how plugged in everyone is, you’re kind of supposed to take the whole justice thing a bit seriously in the first place.

Some cannonballs from the Civil War caused an entire building at Kennesaw State University to be shut down because they were a possible threat to anyone around them. The cannonballs had been sitting there for three years, and no one thought they might explode, until someone new spoke up.

However, it was determined that the irons and chains that slaves were transported were not a threat to public health not only because they were not explosive, but because there weren’t any in the Civil War exhibit.