It is uncommon to find a film that is both the height of bad-crappy and the height of bad-iniquitous. The best way to describe The Ugly Truth is to say that Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler have created satanic vomit.

The ladies: They are controlling and they do not masturbate (it's "impersonal," you know) and they talk about their problems and their hair is not long enough to grab onto during sex and they have cats (and those cats are named d'Artagnan) and they are picky about men and their breasts don't sit up like they should for a greeting. Abby (Heigl) is such a lady.

Mike (Butler) is a man whose talk show, The Ugly Truth, is tainting Abby's TV news network. (On the other planet of this movie, it is still possible to taint TV news.) Mike is going to help Abby find the guy of her dreams... if you know what I mean, which you do. You know that the movie will end with a kiss and in a hot-air balloon. Maybe you do not know that the best way to make a lady loosen up is to make her come in public using vibrating panties remote-controlled by a prepubescent boy?

"Here's a bra," Mike tells Abby. "Boobies in this thing say put me in your mouth—I taste good."

"If we ask you how you're doing, it's just guy code for let me stick my dick in your ass." (So that explains all those awkward encounters!)

"You're all about comfort and efficiency, and the problem with comfort and efficiency is that nobody wants to fuck it!"

Ladies, what the hell have you been doing? You're such assholes. You're going to die alone, bereft even of masturbation skills. Shoot yourselves now.