Pretty Please...

M. Night Shayamalan sez that if movie distributors start releasing films on DVD and in theaters simultaneously, he'll stop making them.

I'm going to stop making movies if they end the cinema experience. If there's a last film that's released only theatrically, it'll have my name on it. This is life or death to me.

I fervently hope he follows through. (Via Kos.)

Today's Miers Headline Should've Been

"NEARING CLIMAX, SUPREME COURT NOMINEE MIERS WITHDRAWS"

Mischievous Hard Motor

The following appeared in my email this morning, with the subject line "NOT ONLY RICH CAN AFFORD BRANDED WATCH, U CAN GET ONE AT $160 or":

profession parents gym anything.
added is commit commit money studied. prison side mischievous respect
development, she social back anybody explain.
is pride my promised explain.
beautiful suddenly the filled my. mischievous hard motor reply arms light. make
taught find hard you.
end added force shining off you? black the corner different black carefully.
different off appearance wanted miserable.

Almost sublime nonsense. I especially like "make taught find hard you" and "black the corner different black carefully." "Mischievous hard motor" would make a good band name.

UPDATE: Today, this succint gem arrived with the subject line "Fannie, your refill is due."

desire embarrass shining,
bridge commit necessary. saying horses filled not? better miles pretty husband.
changed justice word?
pretty filled argue you within. argue wonder disappoint arm within latter.
become science again, disease nothing longer. gym grave next.

This Is Almost

Too true to be funny.

The Edge of the Light

A lyrical snippet from an acquaintance's email (he's in New Orleans, in the Marigny):

...I had a moment two nights ago. Walked over to St. Claude, along Franklin, and stood in the middle of the road, on the edge of the light. Across St. Claude, for a long stretch, there is no electricity. It's kind of like standing on the edge of the sea. A windowless furniture shop alarm was going off. Across the street, the second story of a furniture warehouse rested wide open, a gaping wound. I walked over to Press Street, looked to the faintly lit -- kind of two dimensional skyline (Tron-like), then up. After asking why rather than why not, I received my answer in the form of a white unmarked police SUV blasting some hard core music. Interesting.