So I have this theory about Zac Efron and his inexplicable success as an actor.
My bet is that, on his eighteenth birthday, as he graduated from Hollywood's child-star factory, he descended to a secret chamber deep below the sound stages of Burbank.
There he took part in unspeakably vile satanic rituals involving boiling hot goat semen, the hideous Sigil of Baphomet, and the severed, frozen head of Walt Disney.
Screaming infernal blasphemies and draped in the bloody entrails of 666 purebred kittens, he sold his soul to the demon Azazel in exchange for fame, fortune, six-pack abs, and piercing blue eyes the color of the Aegean Sea.
Every year since then, on the eve of Samhain, Efron pledges once more to drown the world in an ecstasy of fire and blood as he signs the contract for yet another incredibly shitty movie, like this Baywatch reboot costarring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson and coming this week to a theater near you. Nooooooo!