Stupidest Final Lines Ever

So, this pic is actually from 1408, not 2012.
I haven't seen 1408, but there's a good review at The Stone of Tear.
It does make me wonder if John is going to just be in movies with titles
consisting of four digits from now on. But I digress.
I picked this pic because it sums up how I feel about the stupidity of the final line in 2012,
as well as how I feel about my daughter's bedroom.

You know I love John Cusack, right? I'm not a huge fan of "it's the end of the world!" disaster movies, but 2012 stars my man John, so it didn't take much for the family to persuade me to go to the cinema.

The special effects were incredible. The storyline had promise. John was as cute as ever. But the script bit the big one. I knew it pretty early on.

SPOILER ALERT! You have been warned, so don't whine if you don't want to know the ending.
He plays Jackson, the father of two children, separated from their mother. An idealistic author, he spent too much time wrapped up in his writing and researching, and she felt neglected and left him. He picks the kids up for a camping trip, and expresses surprise when his estranged wife hands him a bag of Pull-Ups for their 7 year old daughter, Lily. She tells him that it's obvious he isn't very aware of what is going on with his kids....blah, blah, blah.

Okay, you just know that the Pull-Ups are going to make another appearance. You pray that they will not be a continuous presence in the film. Your prayer is answered. Other than a brief mention when Lily is going to sleep in her tent, we don't hear about the Pull-Ups again. But then, at the very end, when they've survived every kind of extreme experience you can think of - earthquakes, car crashes, explosions in the earth's crust, plane crashes, freezing in the remote mountains of China, near drowning - and they're looking out at a kinder, gentler planet that's gotten all that misbehavior out of its system, Cusack/Jackson talks to his daughter. She explains how she feels and how this has changed her.

Lily: I'm not scared. No more Pull-Ups.
Jackson: Nice.

Mother of God. Really? So what is the takeaway message here? Struggling to find a solution to night time bedwetting? Just subject your child to a cataclysmic series of events and all will be well.


The final line I'm fantasizing about these days for my own personal disaster film is:

Daring Daughter: I'm not defiant. No more disgustingly messy room.
Me: Nice.

I am at my wits' end to find a way to get Daring Daughter to clean up her act. This is not a joke, people. I have tried incentives and disincentives. I have promised her a bunch of things she would absolutely love to have if she will just clean up her stuff. I have taken away a bunch of things she loves. Nothing works. I am praying for an earthquake.

If you have any suggestions on this, I am all ears. But I'll be listening from over there, rather than here.

Because?

I am beside myself with frustration!!!