I actually willingly saw the first Human Centipede back when it was released, because the stupid idea of it appealed to me. The idea. The dumb idea I thought it was. Like that movie Teeth, about a vagina with teeth in it, or Rubber, about a homicidal tire. I thought this would be like that -- a kind of silly-ass pseudo-horror film. I didn't know it was actually played in a serious manner, thus destroying any charm the story could or should have had. Plus, I think the lead actor, Dieter Laser, may be legitimately insane. Or highly medicated. Either way, I don't want to meet him.

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He got the part after reading the script and immediately sporting a gigantic boner.

Having to watch the movie a second time was less enlightening than the first run, through. Guy wants to make a human centipede because of an inability for even the screenwriter -- a man who makes Uwe Boll look like a Voltron of Orson Welles, Quentin Tarantino, and Akira Kuroswawa -- to come up with a rational reason. Or even an irrational one. He just wants to sew people together ass-to-mouth to make a new thing. A thing which is three people sewn together, ass-to-mouth. Do you know what I want to make? A fuckin' pizza with chicken wings on it that somehow dispenses beer. No asses involved.

Knowing what I was getting into, and the fact that this is actually the best of the three movies -- a sentence which should make your own asshole twitch -- I was able to finish it off completely on that very first try. Even the part when he has the centipede out on the yard, yelling at the man in the lead to poop into the mouth of the next segment with nothing but sincere desire in his voice. God, this movie sucks.

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The poop through three people accurately represents the journey the plot takes through three films.

The sequel to Human Centipede goes full arthouse -- by which I mean it's black-and-white. This is how director and cinematic boil Tom Six tries to show depth. I've never met Tom Six, and can't say for certain if he's a terrible man. I simply have his work by which to judge him. Much like how I have the work of the Boston Strangler by which to judge him. In the end, I'd like to have tea with neither.

Part Two goes meta on us and introduces a character obsessed with the first film. And to the actor's credit, he's one of the most repulsive humans I've ever seen, so he was well-cast. A point for Tom Six. The only one he'll ever get.

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If Dr. Frankenstein had given life to a pile of 200 overloaded diapers.

I'm reminded right at the beginning that this is an IFC film. For shame. Also, as the movie begins with one character crying into another's ass, I can't help but think that one would simply die right then, as their nose would get clogged and they'd have no way to breathe. Because this is a dumb idea, you see. Anyway, let's keep going.

Does it make sense to say that if this was any other movie, it might be good? That's kind of obtuse, but it's 100 percent true. The frogman in this movie is really good at being awful. It's almost impressive. That the rest of the movie is awful is not impressive, however. I'll give props for the sense of creepy dread you get when you see the frogman holding a baby and you're not sure what's going to happen, except that it'll probably be nothing good. But then later you have to endure his mother finding his Human Centipede scrapbook, which is precisely what it sounds like: a scrapbook dedicated to the first movie. She literally picks through it and reads out all the stupid buzz lines that they used to market the first movie. "100 percent medically accurate??!?" she sputters. It's like the director can't get through a single scene without giving himself a handjob over his own work. "Mouth to anus?!?" she says. And we all nod, because yes, this is the second goddamn movie and we all know this dumb shit already. So please stop reading quotes from the DVD box.

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And start reading quotes from the film's Rotten Tomatoes page. Then be ashamed.

We're also treated to several scenes of the main actor in his underpants. Imagine if a 4'10" toad ate John Goodman at the height of his Roseanne career, then put on ill-fitting briefs. That's what's going on here, and it's going on a lot. I had to break here to maintain sanity, get a snack, and then go out and enjoy life for a while.

Forty-five minutes in, I have to quit again. In the span of I believe to be 30 seconds, the main character shits himself and a random fat man with a handful of glistening fingers explains -- in no uncertain terms for the audience to understand -- why his fingers are glistening. Am I offended by this? Tom Six wishes he could plumb the depths of madness it would take to legitimately offend me with inappropriateness or vulgarity. No, what offends me is the laziness. I am offended by the schoolyard laziness of it all. This is like that book Butters wrote on South Park about the poop that took a pee. It doesn't mean anything; it's just childish fart jokes. I trade in scholarly fart jokes, thank you.

The actress explains to Toady that she was drawn to the script for the Human Centipede because of the medical aspect of it. Because in real life, if you were a surgeon, you could literally do what happened in the movie. Because the director can't film a new scene without jerking himself off.

I start pondering what to clean in my kitchen this weekend, as the scene in which the centipede is created drags on and on and on. It's just so long and completely uninteresting. He knocks out teeth, he severs tendons, and apparently he staples lips to ass cheeks? Won't the bottom half of their mouths be wide open and attached to nothing?

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The director was simply recreating how he convinced some studio head to finance this pile of garbage.

Before I can get a satisfactory answer, there's literally a sequence in which he forces poop from the top of the centipede on down the line by rubbing their bellies, which is accompanied by an extended chain of fart noises and the use of laxatives. This is seriously happening.

And then shit literally hits the screen. Fuck off.

I had to go read a book and pet a cat and just be for a moment, until I could stop shaking my head. Shit literally hits the camera, and it's in color. This whole movie is black-and-white except for the shit. Because Tom Six is an auteur? Is this like Spielberg's use of red in Schindler's List? No. No, sir.

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Imagine the tornado sending Dorothy to the bottom of the Munchkins' outhouse, only worse.

The sound of a buzzing fly is immediately added in the background. Within seconds of this ridiculous shitcident. Just another example of the level of intellect we're dealing with. And then the next scene happens and I'm stopping again.

I can't describe what just happened in a way that will make you laugh. Imagine a frat bro raised by wolves and slasher movies who probably tortured animals growing up. Imagine him trying to think of what would be so cool to put into a horror movie. Something so super-gross and fucked up that people would be like "Oh no, that's super-gross and fucked up! This movie is awesome!" And then he high-fives no one, because he has no friends, because no one wants to be around him, because he's terrible. That's what happened. It involved a woman giving birth. On with this shitshow.

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This is all you're getting. You are more welcome than you could ever know.

And the movie ends. It was boring, at best. Is Tom Six trying to teach us a lesson with his over-the-top gore and filth? He's not a good teacher. I just don't give a shit. The movie gave shits, not me. Word is, Six was responding to critics who felt that the first movie didn't include enough blood and shit. To that I ask: Where is this vocal group of cinephile fecalpheliacs who were so disappointed by a lack of human waste in Part One? I've never heard that criticism before. But whatever. On to Part Three.

Human Centipede 3 is like the electric cupcake from The Simpsons. Will you keep touching it, knowing you'll get hurt? Dare you watch this godforsaken film, knowing there's no way it won't suck? The absolute worst thing about the third movie in this shitty-ass trilogy is that it practically drips with its own sense of self-importance. You can practically feel Tom Six smugly nodding at what he thinks are provocative and insightful points -- only he's not sure of the definition of either of those words -- and then moving on to another craptastic scene which he believes to be genre-defying and groundbreaking simply because no other director would be dumb enough to do any of this crap in their movie.

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Well, aside from "the same shit we did in the first two films." Lots of directors do that.

This movie brings back the actor who played the insane doctor from the first film and the one who played the insane toad from the second film, but in different roles. And against all odds, Tom Six managed to Shyamalan his ass into his own movie as well, because why not? That's what the other two were missing: Six literally telling you, to your face, that the movie is 100 percent medically accurate. Which he literally says in this movie. But don't worry, the tagline for this one is different -- this time, it's "100 percent politically incorrect." See? It's edgy. This is the Donald Trump of horror movies, daring to go where others fear to tread. Can you handle it, or are you a loser?

Dieter Laser is somehow more insane in this film than in the first one, playing the warden of a prison. He commits any number of felonies, including sexual assault, rape, and murder, and goes so over-the-top that he even makes Tom Six throw up! Oh man, this movie is so intense that even the director got sick. For fuck's sake, you insipid slug-man. Stop jerking yourself off all over my Netflix.

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"You clothed them? You sick fucks!"

This film promised that a big Hollywood celebrity would be in it, and boy did they not lie. Eric "I'll suck any metaphorical dick for screen time" Roberts manages to show up and fulfill the role of what Dutch directors believe to be a big Hollywood celebrity. I can't help but wonder if Julia watches his movies. Picture Julia Roberts watching this movie. There's a scene in it in which the warden has a dream that a prisoner has him pinned to the ground and is raping a stab wound in his kidney. Go on, read that sentence again. "Kidney stab wound rape" is a thing that happens in this movie. There's also dried clitoris-eating, because the script was just a Mad Libs made up of dirty words and atrocities.

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Roberts had hoped to win the role of the ladypart eater, since that would mean a meal that week.

I actually manage to power through a lot of this movie in one go. The next break comes after a prison riot scene, when I'm drinking a Dr. Pepper and daring the movie to go forward with what I predict will happen next. My prediction? The awful prison warden will rape his brutalized and comatose secretary. I predict this because it's literally the most grotesquely stupid thing that could happen in this scene, given what we're presented with. Guess what happens?