Can You Believe They Let Us Laugh Again?: The Most Boring Take on the Funniest Movie of the Year

By Frank Drebin, Detective Lieutenant (or so the badge says) – MisinformationSucks.com

It was a cold screening. The kind of screening that makes you question your life choices and the mustard stain on your tie. The Naked Gun was back, and so was I. Back from a long retirement, a bad sandwich, and a brief misunderstanding involving an inflatable swan and the governor's niece. But enough about my weekend.

They say comedy's dead. I say it's just been locked in a janitor's closet behind the crime scene chalk and the mop bucket marked "trauma." Then, somehow, someone handed Liam Neeson a badge, a script, and 90 minutes of absurdity. And against all odds, we laughed. Not a chuckle. A full-body guffaw, just like President Yankovic in his morning Al-dresses.

🚩 Reviews So Bland They Could Season Toast

The critics were stunned. Flabbergasted. One even used the word "aghast," which I thought was a skin condition. They couldn’t believe it. A comedy? In this economy?

"Can you believe they made a movie like this in 2025?"

Yes. And I can believe you typed that sentence while wearing a shirt that says, "Live, Laugh, Lobotomize."

They act like this movie was smuggled across the border in a clown car driven by irony. Like the writers escaped a re-education camp armed only with a thesaurus and a custard pie. But the truth is simpler:

It’s a funny movie.

Made by funny people.

Who understand that the word "foul" can be both a crime and a poultry reference, and that both deserve equal screen time.

🚫 Stop Holding Vigils for Comedy. It’s Not Dead, Just Hungover.

Every review reads like an obituary for humor. They call this movie a resurrection. A miracle. A second coming. The kind of language usually reserved for religious texts or discontinued snack foods.

But here’s the kicker: comedy never left. It just got stuck behind a paywall.

The truth is, while the critics were busy writing thinkpieces about why pie-in-the-face humor was problematic, the rest of us were wondering if we were allowed to laugh at a guy slipping on a banana peel if the banana identified as gluten-free.

💬 The Only Thing Missing Was a Soundtrack by Squeaky Shoes

They say it’s the funniest movie since 1991. That’s not praise. That’s an indictment. When I was growing up in the ’90s, The Naked Gun already had three films. You couldn’t throw a rubber chicken without hitting a pun.

Now in 2025, we treat the fourth entry in a 35-year-old slapstick franchise like it just cured seasonal depression. It's not that the movie is miraculous. It's that comedy's been so watered down we treat whipped cream as subversive.

This wasn’t a bold political act. It was a fart joke in a trench coat. And thank God for it.

💪 This Movie Didn't Save Comedy. It Mugged It in a Dark Alley and Gave It Back

People act like The Naked Gun reboot climbed out of a grave with a rose in its teeth and a monologue about the human condition. It didn't.

It walked in through the front door, tripped over a welcome mat, sneezed directly into a tuba, and called it Wednesday.

There’s no message. No moral. No post-credits scene where the cast links arms and promises to fight climate change through pratfalls.

It’s just dumb. Brilliantly, shamelessly, technically dumb.

And if that offends you, maybe you deserve to live in a world without joy. Or duct tape. Or whoopee cushions. Which is arguably the same thing.

🚀 Final Thought: If This Is Revolutionary, We're in Trouble

If you think this movie is groundbreaking, you’re not wrong. You just forgot how ground works.

Comedy doesn’t need saving. It needs witnesses. It needs a crowd that understands timing, rhythm, and the ancient art of slipping on a waxed floor while holding soup.

So don’t eulogize The Naked Gun. Applaud it. Quote it. Fall down a flight of stairs while quoting it. And remember:

If a movie where a man mistakes a funeral for a buffet is now considered daring, the real punchline is us.

Anyway, I’m off. There’s been a disturbance at the local bowling alley. Something about a pigeon, a mop, and a misunderstanding involving league night and municipal zoning laws.

Duty calls.