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All we need is one pin, Rodney… Sad but true: Everything I need to know in life I learned under the bug-eyed tutelage of Rodney Dangerfield. Starting with those mid-’80s Miller Lite ads, Professor No Respect has been a personal pedagogue, issuing valuable discourse on topics ranging from geography (“In Canada, people only have sex doggie-style—that way they can both watch the hockey game”) to U.S. history (“I tell ya, I tell ya, my family’s so messed up, in the Civil War my great-grandfather fought for the West”) to an appreciation for humanity (“Ooh, the people here, look at that one, the last time I saw a mouth like that it had a hook in it”). I dress according to the Regular Guy Look, and I golf (and dance) in the style of Al Czervik. Rodney’s latest lesson, Meet Wally Sparks, is his first film since 1992. (From the look of the societal refuse that trickled into the theater opening night, the University of Dangerfield might want to retool some of its teachings—and add a hygiene class.) In an R-rated setting, Rodney can be as rough ‘n’ raw as anyone (see Easy Money, Caddyshack), and in a few scenes here, he conjures some shamelessly genuine guffaws (like when he saunters onto a dance floor with a broken, er, statue piece in his front pocket). Unfortunately, the remainder of the cast and the plot (and the sets and the cameos and…) of Meet Wally Sparks are so shockingly unfunny and amateurish that I seriously considered dropping this class. But, alas, to sir with love: While this debacle may be a helluva lot less filling than his aforementioned classics, just seeing Rodney—whatever the vehicle—do his shtick for the masses can still taste great. At area theaters; see Showtimes for venues. (Sean Daly)