I don't know about you, but I'm so psyched for Friday's big opening of the Ben Afleck flick, DareDevil. Why, you might be asking, considering my lack of love for People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive and the movie's obvious God-awfulness?

Because there's nothing I want more (well, there's a lot more that I want, but I gotta exagerate for effect here) than DareDevil to go down in a Glitter-like disaster, taking Mr. J-Lo's career with him. Because only then- then, will people realize he's a talentless hack and that nobody really cares about him, and that he just plain sucks.

And maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't throw $12 million bucks at him per movie, or whatever crazy amount of money he's gonna make, and decide there's better uses for it. Like helping to fight AIDS in Africa. Or trying to end world hunger. Or giving it to a not-quite-starving but wishes he could be doing a lot better blogger.

A boy has to have his dreams, n'est pas?