Well, you had one fucking job, Suicide Squad. One fucking job. A small job, a large job, I’m no sure. But a job none the less. Save my summer blockbuster experience. But reviews are coming in, and if they aren’t calling the film a raging dumpster fire (which, by the way, they are), they’re definitely condemning it as more raw-ass DCU detritus. Detritus for the fanboys to gorge themselves on, chins coated in calamitous slop, decrying the critics and their harsh reviewers. Detritus for the critics to sharpen their polemical swords upon, their polemical broadsides upon, swinging said weaponry at low-hanging fecaltainment.

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