We’ve seen plenty of movies targeting that most honored and formal of social events, the wedding. The themes of life and love are timeless, and from American Wedding to The Wedding Singer there is no shortage of jokes to be had at the bride and groom’s expense.

Going further, Wedding Crashers disdains cherished values, depicts clean-cut citizens as stupid and naïve, corrupts children and assaults include mocking and stereotyping, all in the pursuit of bedding women.

For that I say, God bless Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson and director David Dobkin. The comedy is a legit R rating, so THANK YOU! They don’t skimp on the naughty behavior, T&A and raunchy physical comedy.

	The crowd went whild when instead of reading her vows, Katie smiled, turned to Tom and said, "Psych! Got ya, you freak!"

Oh, and Wedding Crashers is damn hilarious. While fans of Old School and Anchorman required a certain kind of juvenile humor (raising hand), I’m pretty sure that even the mature members of the audience were doubled over several times along with the rest of us young’uns. I mean LOL, bouncing in your chair, snorting, popcorn out your nose, farting uncontrollably funny.

My love life (sorry, “love” life) is a story of missed opportunities. When I’ve gone to weddings I think like the women: “I want to settle down. I hope my wedding is this nice. Do these heels make my ankles look fat?”

Owen and Vince don’t have that problem, yet I don’t hate them. They’re B.S. artistes this B.S. artist can only admire. Wedding season is treated better than spring training or NFL training camps. It’s party time. The pals make up identities, eat hors d'oeuvres, drink champagne, dance with flower girls and grannies, all for that oldest of games, the pursuit of the opposite sex. They hook up seemingly at will. Or as tourists in Vegas call it, Tuesday.

All of this changes when the divorce attorneys crash the big score, the wedding of Treasury Secretary Christopher Walken’s daughter, which we’re told is the biggest event of the season. There, Owen makes googly eyes at Rachel McAdams and it begins Vaughn’s worst weekend ever, even though he’s pursued by a hot redhead (Isla Fisher) the entire time.

There’s a brilliant dinner scene full of malcontented pigeonholed types of relatives and their befuddled visitors in Vaughn and Wilson. Even the still-"Oh dear Lord"-sexy Jane Seymour gets in on the act as the unfaithful wife to Walken, who apparently couldn't care less.

There’s an entire sequence of dialogue that matters nil because of what else is going on unsaid. You couldn’t hear the dialogue, anyway, because of the intense laughter coming from the audience.

The entire movie is as if the actors are just hanging out and a camera happens to be rolling, so they feel obligated to use their characters’ names. It’s a two-hour riff on one another.

I’m gonna get a license plate airbrushed that says “Jeff (hearts) Vince” and put it on the front of my T-top Trans Am because Vaughn was on, baby, he was so money!

Once they leave Walken’s Nutjob Family Compound, the flick takes a breath as Owen leaves the role of straight man and he and Vince change places in their pursuit of the feminine form.

Sure, Owen and Vince’s behavior is pathetic and irresponsible, but screw that. Wedding Crashers is tons of entertainment. Know what’s really pathetic? That I go out of my way to avoid cute women, because in my head I’ve run the percentages and know there’s a HUGE chance she’s not interested.

Just remember, what happens in Wedding Crashers, stays in Wedding Crashers. Such antics aren’t for people with heart problems, or morals for that matter. Why did I have to be all about “principles” and “ethics” when I was younger and inexhaustible?