'Momma' a washout

ANNOUNCER: Greetings ladies and gents to yet another fine column of "The Continuing Misadventures of the Calamitous Critics at Large." Today our special guests are William Butler Whitman, an upper-class bourgeois expatriate from the Solomon Islands, and Andy Sidares, a video store clerk from Peoria, Illinois. The fine specimen of celluloid sewage to be examined is "Big Momma's House," starring Sir Martin Lawrence and a ton o' make up.\nAndy Sidares: Waz' up?!?\nWilliam Butler Whitman: My hearing aid must be on the fritz. Did you just utter a comprehensible English syllable, my good man?\nAS: Aren't you familiar with Martin Lawrence, man?\nWBW: You are familiar with my butler from my summer cottage in Darby?\nAS: Woah dude, I am talking about my boy Martin Lawrence from "Big Momma's House." You know, that movie that we just watched that so totally rocked?\nWBW: Oh yes, that treatise on deception in modern urban culture. Unfortunately, I do not concur with your upbeat appraisal. I found it to be quite a piece of hogwash.\nAS: Hogwash, man? Come on, get with the times you old coot! Remember when the real Big Momma went to the bathroom and had to do a nasty number two? That was so cool!\nWBW: Ughhh! Bodily emissions! That scene's puerile sense of humor was a disgrace to me and all of my ancestry.\nAS: Well if you didn't like the potty, grandpa, then you certainly must've loved the bootay! That Sherry was one fine mama!\nWBW: 'Twill be a cold day with Dante when I shall refer to something with such troglodytic undertones. 'Tis a shame that veteran thespian Nia Long cooperated with such a maniacal plot to degrade the female vessel. Which brings me to my next point: the degradation of society....\nANNOUNCER: At this point, Andy Sidares falls asleep, dreaming of beer bongs and potato chips, while William Butler Whitman lectures on the pros and cons of reading J.D. Salinger books to pregnant monkeys to be utilized in the name of science. "Big Momma's House" progresses as Lawrence goes undercover as Big Momma in an attempt to learn the whereabouts of Long's former lover. The usual confusion found in "Tootsie" and "Mrs. Doubtfire" is abound, and the plot drags on as needlessly as Mr. Whitman's ramblings, which we now return you to for a short moment.\nWBW: ....And the effects of insulin therapy on dolphins caught in tuna nets will soon put the entire human race in a diabetic epidemic.\nAS: What are you talking about? The people have spoken! "Big Momma's House" made a motherload of box-office moola. $116 million worth, you Metamucil-chugging, diaper wearing relic! \nWBW: I mourn your ignorance, young chap. I spent that exact amount on my last yacht.\nAS: No matter what, Martin is my boyyee and I can't wait to kick some ass while personally wearing 600 pounds of latex!\nWBW: Yes, and I must retire to more pressing matters, like overseeing the pack of twelve-year-olds who churn my tea.