In a few rare works of art, the awfulness of something becomes so fevered, intense, and committed that it begins to generate its own manic energy. We call it "contagious lunatic momentum," and we're thinking of a few in particular that have it by the kiloton:
Scarface: Oliver Stone was so fried on cocaine when writing this movie that by the time you've gotten to his own sister suggesting he killed Manny because Tony wants her for himself, you're rooting for Tony to have sex with her because, shit, chainsaw-cocaine-murder-backyard tiger-why-the-hell-not. Scarface loses all lucidity about three minutes into the movie; everything after Tony's dishwashing job is Oliver Stone masturbating on paper.
Requiem For A Dream: Wait, we're not supposed to laugh at the ass-to-ass scene? No? But he's saying "ass-to-ass"! That's always funny!
Two and a Half Men. It's funny because people are paid to make it.
No one, mind you, paid Rutgers Al to make an a capella tribute to recruit Savon Huggins, but if you want to make it all the way to the three minute mark you'll start hallucinating giant crickets crawling on your ceiling to David Bowie's "Life on Mars." And you don't get that kind of dizzy brain-killer for free very often these days.
Your brain for the rest of the day if you made it that far: ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER ONLY RUTGERS GOT JERSEY POWER.
Rutgers Al now has to get back to work. (Work = gluing knives to he back of giant scarab beetles and making them fight to the death.)