This past weekend The Fate of the Furious broke the worldwide record for the biggest box office opening in cinema history. Subsequently, I'm left feeling depressed for humanity.

I do not want to live in a world where the biggest opening in movie history belongs to The Fast and the Furious series. Raking in $532 million worldwide, the eighth installment of Mark Sinclair's -- a.k.a. Vin Diesel's sappy family opus disguised as a muscle-car action -- franchise knocked Star Wars: The Force Awakens out of the top spot. It is surprising enough that the series now sits at eight entries, but simply jarring that it just toppled the biggest franchise in Hollywood.

I get the appeal. The movies are the perfect blockbusters; the viewer can kick back with a giant tub of butter and popcorn and let the absurdity wash over them. I'll admit I have been complicit in the series' rise. I paid to see the previous three installments. I told myself I was going ironically, to laugh at the movie. And laugh at them I did - except for Fast Five; Fast Five is a genre masterpiece. At the end of the day though money talks and the ludicrous (shoutout Chris Bridges) box office numbers the movies garner enable the franchise to go on seemingly endlessly.

However, I decided to draw the line with The Fate of the Furious. The temptation to go and laugh at the cornball dialogue was made much less due to the gaudy runtime and mediocre reviews. A quick read of the Wikipedia synopsis in order to find out why Diesel's anti-hero Dominic Toretto turned on his "family" sufficed.

The lukewarm reviews are a start on the path to stopping the march of Diesel's vehicle army, but it's time for audiences to ask for more. Diesel is a man with cheese oozing out of his pores, and it seeps all over these films. Further, to call the writing in this series lazy is an understatement. The formulaic ridiculousness of the movies has grown stale.

The repetitiveness can be summed up quite easily. Diesel's "family" has grown from low level criminals to international crime-fighting agents. They jetset around the world to exotic locations full of attractive women while a soundtrack, led by new original songs from Wiz Khalifa, pulsates in the background.

There's an early 20-minute action scene introducing the new baddie followed by the "family" licking their wounds and something resembling a Corona advert. After a night of bonding the "family" engages in the final 45-minute brain-cell-killing chase, culminating in the villian's defeat.

Don't worry though, the villian, overcome with admiration for Diesel, will inevitably join the "family" in the next movie. Finally, every movie ends with Diesel's interpretation of an Olive Garden "when you're here, you're family" commercial.

Despite promising "one last ride" every installment, there seems to be no end in sight for the franchise. A haul of over half a billion in one weekend certainly does not provide any incentive to quit. Thus, it is on the audience to knock Diesel from atop his perch on the Hollywood sign.