An actor I was hoping to use for a small speaking role in my movie is going to be out of the country.

I may have to step in.

For the record, I *hate* it when filmmakers appear in acting roles in their own movies.

Okay, Hitchcock gets a free pass, because he pretty much started the whole director-in-a-cameo business, to the best of my knowledge.

But I don’t want to see Jon Favreau in a greasy big toupee driving Tony Stark around.

I don’t want to see Martin Scorsese with ridiculous hair getting turtledoved by Cameron Diaz in Gangs of New York (note that there about five horribly wrong things mentioned in this single sentence).

I don’t want M. Night Shyamalan talking about how he ran over Mel Gibson’s wife, or almost get caught selling drugs by Bruce Willis, or — okay, I don’t want M. Night Shyamalan at all.

I am not happy about doing this. For the record, if I do this part, it will be out of necessity.

And now, I grow a mustache. (oh, that I were kidding)