Poem Week, Part 6: Opinionated Much?

It sucks; it stinks; it bites; it blows.
I hope that every reader knows
That if they pay, they waste their cash
On absolutely dismal trash.
The very premise has no merit.
Nothing could be done to spare it
All my frothing, raging wrath.
It made me want to take a bath.
It isn’t even funny camp.
The writer must have had a cramp,
Not in his wrist, but in his brain.
To think this worthy isn’t sane.
They should’ve put it through the shredder—
What was that? “Have you done better?”
Maybe not, but unlike them,
I never try to sell my phlegm.
In summary, this work just sucks.
There, aren’t you glad I saved your bucks?
And now it’s back to work for me,
Consuming what you shouldn’t be.

ADDENDUM: In case you're wondering, this poem means to mock many an amateur critic's spiels. I had no particular criticized work in mind; even the medium isn't abundantly clear.