I don’t think I can enjoy anything with Arnold in it, ever since I saw his balls that one day at the beach. Big, ripped, furious veins all over his scrotum, swirling like runes that foretold the fall of man. Plus, even if I could, it certainly wouldn’t be this movie.

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The  Schwarzenegger and DeVito jam Twins  is a warm fuzzy memory from my childhood. Like almost all the other films from my childhood that were fuzzy memories, Hollywood now seems intent on plopping a dollop of feces right upon it.

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