When I opened my mailbox earlier today, I was at first excited to see the new issue of "Entertainment Weekly" waiting inside (it was a day late), but my happy feelings evaporated immediately upon seeing the cover. The entire issue -- a double issue -- was devoted exclusively to the new "Sex and the City" movie.

You might assume that my negative reaction is because I disliked the HBO series. That's not the case. In fact, while my subscription to HBO came and went during the show's run, whenever I had the channel in my lineup I was a regular viewer. Sure, it wasn't my favorite show, and my sometimes prudish tendencies clashed with Samantha's sensibilities (not to mention Carrie's infidelity with Big while dating Aiden), but I watched and enjoyed the show on a regular basis.

Instead, my disappointment upon seeing EW's theme issue stems from the fact that I don't want a SATC movie. I don't want any changes to the happily-ever-after series finale. After 94 episodes of D-R-A-M-A, the show ended on an up note for all four ladies, but most of that happiness seems poised for evaporation, all for the sake of milking the SATC brand name for cinematic glory. Judging from the movie's ads and trailer, something derails Carrie and Big's wedding, Samantha appears to have strayed from live-in boyfriend Smith, and Steve has done something to betray Miranda. Sigh.

Sometimes stories need to end, no matter how much we may miss them. I don't want "The Sopranos" to cut back from black. I don't need to find out what happened after Jerry and the gang got out of jail on "Seinfeld." And I hope I never find out for sure whether Marlo Stanfield stayed out of the game for good on "The Wire." HBO didn't cancel "Sex and the City." The show's creative team was given the opportunity to end things on their own terms, and they did so in fine fashion. In 2004. Anything after that is unnecessary.

I took in a screening of Paul Thomas Anderson's new film, There Will Be Blood, on Sunday afternoon, and I can't imagine that I'll see a better movie from 2007. I've long contended that Denzel Washington's portrayal of Rubin Carter in The Hurricane was the greatest performance ever captured on film. Now, however, I believe Daniel Day Lewis' Daniel Plainview has surpassed anything that came before it. I also saw Michael Clayton this weekend, and I was actually surprised by how much I liked it. George Clooney has never played a character like Clayton before, and it's likely he'll take home a best actor Oscar for his performance (assuming the more deserving Lewis doesn't prevail). After Michael Clayton I watched Ben Affleck's directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone. I really loved this movie. Affleck certainly has the technical skill, and his obvious affection for the neighborhoods and people in the film was a nice touch. Ben's little brother Casey Affleck has really come a long way as an actor since his mumbling early roles, and here he carries off a tough balancing act of compassion and rage. Unfortunately, Michelle Monaghan is a bit wasted in the lead female role, basically just along for the ride until providing an emotional twist at film's end. The real revelation in the film, however, is Amy Ryan as the aimless mother of a kidnapped girl. Previously best known for a small recurring role on HBO's "The Wire," Ryan nearly walks away with the picture. Already winner of several critics awards, Ryan is a virtual lock for a best supporting actress Oscar nomination. I sat through two new films during the last week, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story and National Treasure: Book of Secrets. The less said about these two the better. Walk Hard was the better of the two, but its music was far superior to its comedy. National Treasure? An absolute mess. (On an odd sidenote, Nicolas Cage's sideburns are shaved so high above his ears in Treasure that he looks a bit like a burn victim. Truly bizarre.)

If I'm going to break 4 months of silence, you know it's gotta be for something monumental, right? Wrong.

So I've been dormant again. Could be worse. I could be Jason. Well, if I'm poking my head back into this here locale, you know it's gotta be for something good, right? And not Paris-Hilton-sings good. GOOD good. Okay, it probably is actually more Paris-Hilton-sings good, but this clip is simultaneously literary, hilarious, disturbing, brilliantly insightful, and just plain wrong. Not surprisingly, Sesame Workshop (aka the Children's Television Workshop) exerted a great deal of energy to stop this short film from getting wide distribution after its buzz-generating debut at the 2002 Sundance Film Festival. But thanks (as usual) to YouTube, we can all now watch in jaw dropping awe... Confused? Take a quick literature lesson. [YouTube] Ernest and Bertram

I don't get very excited about new television shows often, at least not before they hit the air.