If your face doesn't immediately light up at the thought of Johnny Knoxville launching himself airborne on the back of a giant rocket, or Chris Pontius slipping a sock puppet of a mouse on his dick before inserting it into a hungry snake's lair, or Steve-O jamming a fish hook through the side of his mouth and hurling himself into shark-infested waters then Jackass Number Two is definitely not for you. As for me, I can't wait to see it again. Like its 2002 cinematic predecessor and the 2000-2002 MTV series, JNTconsists of Knoxville and company testing their dude-worthiness by way of increasingly absurd and/or dangerous stupid human tricks, and occasionally turning their havoc on the general public (producer Spike Jonze walks the streets of L.A. disguised as an elderly woman whose sagging breasts won't stay put). Admittedly as ambush comedians, the gang lacks the political subversiveness of a Borat or an Ali G. But as merry pranksters, they have no match, and as they age (Knoxville is 35 now), they only grow in appeal. Proudly hurling their tattooed (by ink and battle scars) bodies into harm's way, a devilish glint in their eyes, it's as if they've discovered the Fountain of Youth, and its name is Jackass.