Warning

I only have a moment to compose this post, but I cannot let some other unsuspecting cinema goer to make the mistake that I made. If I can save one person from walking into certain pain and misery, then it might be worth my loss of two hours and $5.50 this afternoon.

DO NOT SEE "A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION."

Don't. Just don't go there. To call that waste of film a putrid and rotting bag of stinky fish pus is a kindness. It reminds me of "Chained Heat," only worse. Did anyone see that? It was 1983 or so, and poor Linda Blair was trying to make an adult comeback, and someone put her in a women's prison movie. Until this afternoon, I really thought *that* was the worst film ever. I was wrong. "Roadhouse" is a better movie than "A Prairie Home Companion." In point of fact, I am fairly certain that the third Porky's movie is better.

(At least I went to see "Chained Heat" by accident. This afternoon's film was ... all I can think is that it was a total lapse of my better judgment.)

I already knew that I didn't like Garrison Keillor. Wesley is a big fan of his and of PHC, and of course Pat Donohue is a complete genius. In fact, the entire regular cast of the radio program are wonderful. Sadly, they were not utilized at all to their potential in this wretched excuse for a film. The mega-famous movie stars were equally as wasted and abused by a complete nightmare of a script (penned by the aforementioned Keillor, curse him). The -- completely asinine plot device of an "angel" was so painful as to prompt my gag reflex into overkill every time she appeared on the screen.

The dialogue was painful. The characters were awful. The plot was nonexistent.

Let me try to make this clear: This movie stank from the very beginning to the very last frame.

I feel so sorry for director Robert Altman. I feel so badly for Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin and, oh, oh, poor Kevin Kline. They're all going to have to forget this travesty, this smear on their resumes.

There was one bright spot -- a single song about bad jokes by the singing cowboys, played by Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly. I only wish the two men hadn't also been required to mouth insipid lines in scenes before and after that song.

I often say that you can wait until a movie comes out on DVD. This time, I'm going to beg you to please ignore the DVD. If it comes on HBO, change the channel. I would have walked out of that movie within the first eight minutes, but I was there with Wesley, who for some completely unknown reason liked the movie all right. I don't mean he liked it liked it -- but he didn't hate it. However, Wesley has been known to watch three Westerns in a row -- *and* -- he married *me*. So his taste is already suspect.

Save yourselves. It's too late for me. Save yourselves and do not watch "A Prairie Home Companion." A mind is a terrible thing to waste.