M. Night in motion

I recently got into a debate with a colleague on the merits of M. Night Shyamalan, because, well, I am in fact, a dork.  Shocked?  Awed?  Mildly nauseated?  I thought as much.  Well, to end the debate, I needed something strong.  A verbal kick to the back of the head or somewhere equally sensitive and debilitating.  In my M. Night Fervorlan I reached for my secret weapon, a one-two sledgehammer sure to reduce the most intimidating of foes to a quivering Jello Jiggler beneath my boot. Behold, my glory, my pride, my haiku:

M. Night Shyamalan
imbues his films with myst’ry
and dramatic flair.

Does that not take your breath away?  Pull yourself together, for God’s sake, you’re making a scene.

Advertisement