In a shocking confession that's rocking Tinseltown harder than a poorly scripted earthquake scene, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson has come clean about his latest cinematic disaster. During a candid interview on a podcast hosted by a guy who claims to be his accountant, Johnson admitted that his summer blockbuster, "Rampage of the Tax Deductions," was intentionally engineered to bomb at the box office. "Why make money when you can lose it strategically?" Johnson quipped, flexing his biceps as if to emphasize the fiscal fitness of his plan.

According to Johnson, the film was a masterpiece of financial misdirection. The plot, which involved giant monsters destroying cities while spouting IRS code jargon, was deliberately convoluted to confuse audiences and critics alike. "We hired writers who specialized in quantum physics and tax law," Johnson explained. "The goal was to ensure no one could follow the story, guaranteeing empty theaters and massive write-offs." Industry insiders are buzzing, with some calling it the most innovative use of CGI since someone animated a talking cat to sell pet food.

But this isn't just about one movie; Johnson revealed it's part of a larger Hollywood trend. Stars like him are turning flops into goldmines by exploiting loopholes bigger than the plot holes in their scripts. "Forget Oscars; we're chasing audits," he said with a wink. His production company, Seven Bucks (named after the average profit per film), has reportedly saved millions in taxes by producing films that make "Waterworld" look like a smash hit. Even the catering budget was inflated with gourmet kale smoothies that no one ate, just for that extra deduction.

Critics are divided. Some hail Johnson as a visionary, dubbing him "The Rock of Gibraltar for Tax Evasion—er, Avoidance." Others worry this could spell doom for quality cinema. "If every movie is made to fail, what's left for us to pan?" lamented one reviewer. Meanwhile, fans are split: some are demanding refunds, while others are buying tickets to the sequel just to support the scheme. Johnson's next project? A biopic about a accountant who fights aliens with spreadsheets—guaranteed to lose big.

As the IRS scrambles to respond, Hollywood accountants are throwing parties. "This changes everything," said one bean-counter, popping champagne. "Who needs box office success when failure pays dividends?" Johnson, ever the showman, ended his interview by bench-pressing a stack of tax forms, proving that in Hollywood, muscles and money moves go hand in hand. Stay tuned for more flops that might just be features, not bugs.

In a twist that no one saw coming—except maybe the screenwriters who phoned it in—Johnson's admission has sparked a wave of copycat confessions. Other stars are now admitting their duds were deliberate. "My rom-com flopped because love is blind, but taxes see everything," tweeted a certain A-lister. The Academy is considering a new category: Best Picture in a Supporting Tax Bracket.

Economists are weighing in, suggesting this could revolutionize the industry. "It's like Moneyball, but for money pits," one expert noted. Studios are already greenlighting films with titles like "The Deductible Strikes Back" and "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Audits." Johnson's scheme might just be the blockbuster that saves Hollywood from itself—or at least from paying full taxes.