Every night I park the car I see a ghost. At least that’s what I call it, a blur in my peripheral vision, like Douglas Adams’ Somebody Else’s Problem field, where an old Black gentleman used to keep his heap but has since vacated for a reason I can only guess. I swear it’s him, but look directly and there’s nothing. Ghosts could be just that, faded memories of images you’re missing. Less likely they’re CG-generation apparitions which always seem prone to revenge and other displays of bad temper, like in this new “Shutter” movie which I don't know anything about other than what I’ve seen in commercials, but if it is a remake in the tradition of The Ring and The Grudge, then here we go again, and this time it's an Asian ex-girlfriend! Watch out, all you yellow fever'd rice-eaters! They seriously need a movie about all the victims of ghosts—don’t they themselves then become the same sort of troubled spirits and go after their makers, too? I guess that’s why I’ve never been afraid of them (besides the one in that episode of Space: 1999 with the awesome sitar music); kill me on the night I was gonna get lucky with a hot airhead who’s just shown me her boobs, and I’d be back with just as big a grudge as any creepy Japanese girl. And ring her neck. Or maybe we’re to believe there’s an aspect to the afterlife which reverses the normal bully hierarchy, and lets meek types like that torment those who dominated her while alive?