An Open Letter to the Wayans'

Dear Mr. Shawn Wayans and Mr. Marlon Wayans,

I recently had the grave misfortune of viewing your most recent disaster of a film, Little Man, and a more insipid piece of tripe I can not imagine exists. If one were to combine Shasta McNasty, The George Lopez Show, and The Love Boat; roll them together with an Ashlee Simpson CD and an Evenesence concert; and then sprinkle a Thomas Kincaid painting onto this vile concoction you would still not equal the low grade humor and utterly disgusting dialogue you attempt to pass off as entertainment.

The two of you may be wondering to yourselves why I wasn't tipped off that I would dislike the film so much by its' television ads . Well sirs, I do not own a television. Television only contains juvenile content, similar to your film, which does nothing but numb the mind to the true knowledge that should be sought in life. Sought via scholarly pursuits; not sitting on a stained paisley couch watching Jim Belushi blather on about his bald head, fat gut and some "hot chick." Due to my idiot box-less residence I was unaware of the pure essence of stupidity and low culture that emanated from your film.

This is why when I saw "Little Man" on the cinema marquee I naturally assumed it was short hand for the 1934 Frank Borzage classic, Little Man, What Now? This is not the delightful and thought provoking piece of art I was treated to. Instead, my senses were attacked for 90 straight minutes by lines, you purported to be jokes, about boobies, poo-poo and pee-pee, and other references that even my seven year-old nephew would scoff at.

Upon the conclusion of your less than riveting film, I found the manager of this cinema. I scolded him for showing such a horrid piece of guttural and for leaving his marquee in such disarray as to cause the confusion that led to my viewing of your film in the first place. In an act of apology he refunded my money and gave me a free pass to an upcoming film. He described it as a film about the state of the airline industry, the lack of safety while on an aeroplane, and the very real possibility of a biological attack while on one. It sounds like a most intriguing documentary.

My suggestion to you: either change your filmmaking ways or leave Hollywood all together and find a new occupation. Garbage men would seem to suit both of you quite well. Society does not need your type of "art," this country has been infiltrated enough by the low-brow and crass culture that envelopes the south, we do not need you two making things worse.

Hoping to never see you again,
Douglas Sinclair