...but not for me.
Never for me.
Just kidding.
Just found out that TMBG are playing two shows at Joe's Pub at 9pm and 11pm on Wednesday the 16th of May.
I will probably just go to the 11 o'clock show.
You should come.
Seriously.
You should!
We could hang out before and get dinner or something.
Maybe share a soda?
And a glance...
Also, I am in that shitty, short and unappetizing baseball play this weekend.
It's called something or other and it's playing as part of a series of plays about baseball (the fuck?) at 5pm on Saturday and Sunday.
The address of the theater is 123 E. 24th street and that's really all I know.
I think the whole program is called the Sports Complex or some fucking thing.
Don't bother showing up unless you want to see me wearing baseball pants and pretending to give a shit about baseball.
And I'll do that for free if you want to just make an appointment.
Had a very solid audition today which I probably won't get because WHITEY IS KEEPING ME DOWN.
Have a VO audition for a "personal lubricant" called (I shit ye not) "Jiggalube".
There is a small chance I misheard my guy but I seriously hope not.
Hahahahahahahahahaha.
Jiggalube.
3.14.2007
You can't get anywhere staring at the one you love.
So this guy, Jonathan Lethem, has this project called "The Promiscuous Materials Project".
He wrote a bunch of lyrics over the past 20 years and put them up for anyone at all to make into something.
Linnell has recently recorded a version of one of the songs and it's really great.
It's called "The Second Longest Night" and can be listened to here.
Enjoy.
He wrote a bunch of lyrics over the past 20 years and put them up for anyone at all to make into something.
Linnell has recently recorded a version of one of the songs and it's really great.
It's called "The Second Longest Night" and can be listened to here.
Enjoy.
3.13.2007
Goat Toast
3.13.07
4:58 PM
So I was just flipping through a phone book to find the number to a Barnes & Noble (it's a new chain of strip clubs. Very classy...) and I saw an ad for an abortion...place.
Clinic seems a bit tongue in cheek.
Anyway, the ad has a sexy picture of three girls on a beach, enjoying their newly empty uteruses, one would assume.
"We treat you special" was a phrase that kept popping up.
The small mistake in grammar made that one VERY unsettling.
On the next page was an ad for what, at first glance, appeared to be a whorish modeling agency.
Nope.
Abortion place.
There were three headshots with quotes running down the right side of the page.
"I felt special here"
"They made me feel safe"
"The staff was terrific"
Again, rather off putting.
Also, all three girls were Latinas and looking like they would be seen in the same abortion place time and time again.
I guess there's no real standard for phone book advertising?
If not, I have GOT to start opening businesses simply to advertise in there.
Today, I have no need for time wasting suggestions, because I HAVE ERRANDS TO RUN!!!!!
First off, to the bank to deposit MY FULL SECURITY DEPOSIT!!!!
Once that check clears I can start sending boxes of shit to Mark Scharfman and making lewd and threatening phone calls.
Maybe from my new LIC number.
Next, to Duane Reade to pick up some Stopples.
I LOVE STOPPLES!
And no, they are not suppositories, although that would be an excellent name for them.
Then to Best Buy to pick up Casino Royale (yeah, I kind of forgot to finish typing up the rest of those reviews. Maybe someday since there has been such outcry for them....) and to look into photo printers, photo paper and ink.
Chris and I have decided to do something creative with our massive fucking hallway.
Then, maybe, to Gamestop to maybe pick up the new God of War game.
It's a very solid game (the first one) and the second one is apparently, more of the same but with some xmax thrown in to tickle the gaming community's collective pickle.
However, it just came out and paying $50+ for a video game that will be $20 in a month or two is stupid.
Then again...I AM pretty stupid...
7:12 PM
The GOW decision was taken out of my hands by the fact that it is sold out in a lot of places.
Well then.
I bought Casino Royale.
I bought Stopples.
I researched photo printers.
I ate pizza.
Very thorough break.
Only 5,649,140 to go before I'm a millionaire and can quit.
9:34 PM
"We need a Best Man"
"Ook."
"Well, at least put some clothes on."
4:58 PM
So I was just flipping through a phone book to find the number to a Barnes & Noble (it's a new chain of strip clubs. Very classy...) and I saw an ad for an abortion...place.
Clinic seems a bit tongue in cheek.
Anyway, the ad has a sexy picture of three girls on a beach, enjoying their newly empty uteruses, one would assume.
"We treat you special" was a phrase that kept popping up.
The small mistake in grammar made that one VERY unsettling.
On the next page was an ad for what, at first glance, appeared to be a whorish modeling agency.
Nope.
Abortion place.
There were three headshots with quotes running down the right side of the page.
"I felt special here"
"They made me feel safe"
"The staff was terrific"
Again, rather off putting.
Also, all three girls were Latinas and looking like they would be seen in the same abortion place time and time again.
I guess there's no real standard for phone book advertising?
If not, I have GOT to start opening businesses simply to advertise in there.
Today, I have no need for time wasting suggestions, because I HAVE ERRANDS TO RUN!!!!!
First off, to the bank to deposit MY FULL SECURITY DEPOSIT!!!!
Once that check clears I can start sending boxes of shit to Mark Scharfman and making lewd and threatening phone calls.
Maybe from my new LIC number.
Next, to Duane Reade to pick up some Stopples.
I LOVE STOPPLES!
And no, they are not suppositories, although that would be an excellent name for them.
Then to Best Buy to pick up Casino Royale (yeah, I kind of forgot to finish typing up the rest of those reviews. Maybe someday since there has been such outcry for them....) and to look into photo printers, photo paper and ink.
Chris and I have decided to do something creative with our massive fucking hallway.
Then, maybe, to Gamestop to maybe pick up the new God of War game.
It's a very solid game (the first one) and the second one is apparently, more of the same but with some xmax thrown in to tickle the gaming community's collective pickle.
However, it just came out and paying $50+ for a video game that will be $20 in a month or two is stupid.
Then again...I AM pretty stupid...
7:12 PM
The GOW decision was taken out of my hands by the fact that it is sold out in a lot of places.
Well then.
I bought Casino Royale.
I bought Stopples.
I researched photo printers.
I ate pizza.
Very thorough break.
Only 5,649,140 to go before I'm a millionaire and can quit.
9:34 PM
"We need a Best Man"
"Ook."
"Well, at least put some clothes on."
3.09.2007
I don't care if I never come back...
3.7.07
8:37 PM
Today I stood behind someone on the train with a perfect buzzcut.
Every bristle seemed to be the same length.
I barely resisted the urge to just run my hands over it and purr like a cat.
Nothing much else to say.
Oh, I found all about that play I'm in.
It's called "Home Run Hitters Drive Cadillacs" and, unless you give any type of shit about baseball, do not bother to see it
It is part of an evening of theatre about sports.
Again, that's theatre about sports.
You know, like a KKK Bake Sale for the United Negro College Fund.
The play is painfully dull yet mercifully short.
I get to tell a story about a prostitute with a wooden leg.
The other problem is the two other guys in it and the director are all big on baseball whereas I couldn't give a shit with the aid of laxatives so the rehearsals yet to come, if the first was any indication, will consist of twenty minutes to run through the play twice and then fifty minutes of talking about baseball.
Whoop dee fuck.
Well, I suppose this is what acting is all about: pretending you like baseball.
I will be watching 'Bull Durham' tonight to learn a bit more about minor league baseball (which the play is about).
Fucking baseball.
I can't even say it's my least favorite sport because I care so little about them that I haven't even sifted through the lot to designate just how little I care about them.
Is it weird that being Baby Kermit the Frog and Satan was more fun than this?
*****************************************************************************
Watched 'Bull Durham'.
Good movie, but I still don't give a squirt about baseball.
8:37 PM
Today I stood behind someone on the train with a perfect buzzcut.
Every bristle seemed to be the same length.
I barely resisted the urge to just run my hands over it and purr like a cat.
Nothing much else to say.
Oh, I found all about that play I'm in.
It's called "Home Run Hitters Drive Cadillacs" and, unless you give any type of shit about baseball, do not bother to see it
It is part of an evening of theatre about sports.
Again, that's theatre about sports.
You know, like a KKK Bake Sale for the United Negro College Fund.
The play is painfully dull yet mercifully short.
I get to tell a story about a prostitute with a wooden leg.
The other problem is the two other guys in it and the director are all big on baseball whereas I couldn't give a shit with the aid of laxatives so the rehearsals yet to come, if the first was any indication, will consist of twenty minutes to run through the play twice and then fifty minutes of talking about baseball.
Whoop dee fuck.
Well, I suppose this is what acting is all about: pretending you like baseball.
I will be watching 'Bull Durham' tonight to learn a bit more about minor league baseball (which the play is about).
Fucking baseball.
I can't even say it's my least favorite sport because I care so little about them that I haven't even sifted through the lot to designate just how little I care about them.
Is it weird that being Baby Kermit the Frog and Satan was more fun than this?
*****************************************************************************
Watched 'Bull Durham'.
Good movie, but I still don't give a squirt about baseball.
3.06.2007
Hello...mind taker...
3.6.07
8:23 PM
Now, people who know me well know that I really don't go out of my way to be unique.
The unique is sort of just thrust upon me.
Or maybe you don't believe this.
Or maybe I'm not being up front with myself.
Whatever.
Anyway, I just got off the phone with a branch of the American Institute for Psychotherapy, specifically the hypnotherapy division.
I had a talk with a very intelligent woman who thinks that what I asked about is both very interesting and very feasible.
I am planning on undergoing hypnosis to convince myself that I have never heard Nine Inch Nails' 1999 album 'The Fragile' (my favorite NIN album).
I told her I have heard this album literally hundreds of times and I'd like to hear it for the first time...again.
She admitted that no one has ever come to her with a request like this, but that it's very interesting.
She also said I sound intelligent which will help with the hypnotic process.
I guess.
This is what a true fan should do; undergo mental reprogramming in order to refresh their ears.
If this works, I might just use hypnosis for a bunch of stuff.
Maybe I'll erase the whole NIN catalogue from my mind, come at the whole thing with new ears.
I love the idea of hypnosis.
And I especially love the idea of hypnosis working for me.
I also think this is one of the coolest things I've ever done.
8:23 PM
Now, people who know me well know that I really don't go out of my way to be unique.
The unique is sort of just thrust upon me.
Or maybe you don't believe this.
Or maybe I'm not being up front with myself.
Whatever.
Anyway, I just got off the phone with a branch of the American Institute for Psychotherapy, specifically the hypnotherapy division.
I had a talk with a very intelligent woman who thinks that what I asked about is both very interesting and very feasible.
I am planning on undergoing hypnosis to convince myself that I have never heard Nine Inch Nails' 1999 album 'The Fragile' (my favorite NIN album).
I told her I have heard this album literally hundreds of times and I'd like to hear it for the first time...again.
She admitted that no one has ever come to her with a request like this, but that it's very interesting.
She also said I sound intelligent which will help with the hypnotic process.
I guess.
This is what a true fan should do; undergo mental reprogramming in order to refresh their ears.
If this works, I might just use hypnosis for a bunch of stuff.
Maybe I'll erase the whole NIN catalogue from my mind, come at the whole thing with new ears.
I love the idea of hypnosis.
And I especially love the idea of hypnosis working for me.
I also think this is one of the coolest things I've ever done.
3.01.2007
tink tink tink
3.1.07
8:28 PM
All this Nine Inch Nails stuff has kind of made me not give a shit about the Scissor Sisters concert this weekend.
Hm.
Meanwhile: I finished the Bond novel "The Spy Who Loved Me" just now.
This novel features the character who, in the movies, is called 'Jaws'.
Turns out his name in the book is "The Horror" which is a nickname.
His real name?
Sol Horowitz.
Jaws is a Jew.
That creates laughter inside my self.
And now I need your help...
From 5:30 pm to 7 pm every weekday I have a break.
I don't like to eat during it because I tend to get food delivered to the job so I can kill time in that fashion.
Here's where I need your help:
What should I do on my hour and a half break?
If I need to run home, I can do that, but I would probably only have 10 minutes before I have to rush out again.
Give me some ideas.
Here's what I have done recently:
Had pizza.
Had Starbucks.
Bought a Blu-ray.
Visited Lisa and Becca (but they were watching TV).
Trying not to spend money, people.
I was thinking about maybe just riding a bus downtown for 45 minutes and then riding it uptown for another 45.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA
So far, that possibility is in the lead.
Just get to know my iPod a little better.
Maybe make some bus friends.
I think I've already sort of made a Subway friend.
The past two nights on the 6 train at 11 or so I have seen the same homeless guy.
He tends to sleep on the bench at the very front or back of the last or second to last car.
I know it's the same guy because he removes his sneakers before crashing out.
Some day, just to freak him out and shift the status quo I might steal his shoes.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Or maybe I'll bump into him, drop a bag and then demand he pays me for my Snapple which I'll insist he spilt.
HAHAHAHAHA
It's thinking like this that's going to get me shot.
You know, I was thinking that I might be misinterpreting the prophecy (that I'm going to be killed by a minority).
I mean, 'minority' doesn't mean a Black or a Green or something like that necessarily.
I could be killed by a left-handed person.
Only 1 in 9 Americans are left-handed, so that counts.
Or maybe an Eskimo.
I want that on my obelisk (yeah, I decided that I want a huge fucking obelisk for a grave marker) "Was killed by a fucking Eskimo while heroically rescuing his family from a sinking ship and despoiling a porpoise at the same time".
Hm, that's a bit crowded.
Well, since I now have an obelisk, perhaps I'll have four different versions of my epitaph.
Good one.
Along with figuring out what to do during my break, also submit possible epitaphs for me.
One side is going to be "Unstoppable porpoise fucking machine", another is going to be the killed by an Eskimo thing, so that leaves two sides.
While I would like to do the "Royal Tannenbaum" thing, that might be too unoriginal.
Back to the break thing, I'm sure once the weather gets better Central Park will become a more realistic suggestion, but for the next month or so...what do I do?
Also: with the help of Drew, Jeannie and maybe even the Figa Man, I might be upgrading my entertainment system soon-ish.
In the new apartment, we are at the point where all the basic stuff is working and we must now paint and decorate and add dogs and trimmings and curtains and stuff like that.
I fear these things may never get done.
I went to Home Depot (the HUGE mausoleum one on 59th and 3rd) alone for the first time and was scared shitless.
The second time I went I felt like Bob Villa on crack.
I wanted to buy door knockers and light fixtures and grout and caulk (delicious caulk) and brackets and bolts and levels and chainsaws and carpets and a whole fuckload of other shit I don't need or really want.
I have never felt more Hetero.
A forklift.
I wanted to buy a forklift too.
In case I needed to knock over some Port-O-Potties or something.
And lighter fluid.
In case I need to write something in fire.
You know.
Do they have hammers at Home Depot?
No, not regular hammers, what a silly question, I mean big, fuck-all sledge hammers that I can carry around maternity wards.
Wow. What a brilliant image.
Okay, Christina, first project of the Artist's Collective or whatever name we give ourselves: a short film involving me wearing all black, a black hood and silently walking through a maternity ward at night with a fucking sledgehammer.
The film will be called "4th Trimester Abortionist".
Or maybe we can spin the message a little by turning it into a commercial. We just add the tagline:
Use Trojans. It's better that way.
Fucking hell am I brilliant.
Also again: I'm going to be in another play.
This one will be shorter and better, I think.
I have yet to read the script.
It goes up March 31st to April 2nd I believe.
It has something to do with baseball.
A subject which I know lots about.
And enjoy.
A lot.
Yes.
8:28 PM
All this Nine Inch Nails stuff has kind of made me not give a shit about the Scissor Sisters concert this weekend.
Hm.
Meanwhile: I finished the Bond novel "The Spy Who Loved Me" just now.
This novel features the character who, in the movies, is called 'Jaws'.
Turns out his name in the book is "The Horror" which is a nickname.
His real name?
Sol Horowitz.
Jaws is a Jew.
That creates laughter inside my self.
And now I need your help...
From 5:30 pm to 7 pm every weekday I have a break.
I don't like to eat during it because I tend to get food delivered to the job so I can kill time in that fashion.
Here's where I need your help:
What should I do on my hour and a half break?
If I need to run home, I can do that, but I would probably only have 10 minutes before I have to rush out again.
Give me some ideas.
Here's what I have done recently:
Had pizza.
Had Starbucks.
Bought a Blu-ray.
Visited Lisa and Becca (but they were watching TV).
Trying not to spend money, people.
I was thinking about maybe just riding a bus downtown for 45 minutes and then riding it uptown for another 45.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA
So far, that possibility is in the lead.
Just get to know my iPod a little better.
Maybe make some bus friends.
I think I've already sort of made a Subway friend.
The past two nights on the 6 train at 11 or so I have seen the same homeless guy.
He tends to sleep on the bench at the very front or back of the last or second to last car.
I know it's the same guy because he removes his sneakers before crashing out.
Some day, just to freak him out and shift the status quo I might steal his shoes.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Or maybe I'll bump into him, drop a bag and then demand he pays me for my Snapple which I'll insist he spilt.
HAHAHAHAHA
It's thinking like this that's going to get me shot.
You know, I was thinking that I might be misinterpreting the prophecy (that I'm going to be killed by a minority).
I mean, 'minority' doesn't mean a Black or a Green or something like that necessarily.
I could be killed by a left-handed person.
Only 1 in 9 Americans are left-handed, so that counts.
Or maybe an Eskimo.
I want that on my obelisk (yeah, I decided that I want a huge fucking obelisk for a grave marker) "Was killed by a fucking Eskimo while heroically rescuing his family from a sinking ship and despoiling a porpoise at the same time".
Hm, that's a bit crowded.
Well, since I now have an obelisk, perhaps I'll have four different versions of my epitaph.
Good one.
Along with figuring out what to do during my break, also submit possible epitaphs for me.
One side is going to be "Unstoppable porpoise fucking machine", another is going to be the killed by an Eskimo thing, so that leaves two sides.
While I would like to do the "Royal Tannenbaum" thing, that might be too unoriginal.
Back to the break thing, I'm sure once the weather gets better Central Park will become a more realistic suggestion, but for the next month or so...what do I do?
Also: with the help of Drew, Jeannie and maybe even the Figa Man, I might be upgrading my entertainment system soon-ish.
In the new apartment, we are at the point where all the basic stuff is working and we must now paint and decorate and add dogs and trimmings and curtains and stuff like that.
I fear these things may never get done.
I went to Home Depot (the HUGE mausoleum one on 59th and 3rd) alone for the first time and was scared shitless.
The second time I went I felt like Bob Villa on crack.
I wanted to buy door knockers and light fixtures and grout and caulk (delicious caulk) and brackets and bolts and levels and chainsaws and carpets and a whole fuckload of other shit I don't need or really want.
I have never felt more Hetero.
A forklift.
I wanted to buy a forklift too.
In case I needed to knock over some Port-O-Potties or something.
And lighter fluid.
In case I need to write something in fire.
You know.
Do they have hammers at Home Depot?
No, not regular hammers, what a silly question, I mean big, fuck-all sledge hammers that I can carry around maternity wards.
Wow. What a brilliant image.
Okay, Christina, first project of the Artist's Collective or whatever name we give ourselves: a short film involving me wearing all black, a black hood and silently walking through a maternity ward at night with a fucking sledgehammer.
The film will be called "4th Trimester Abortionist".
Or maybe we can spin the message a little by turning it into a commercial. We just add the tagline:
Use Trojans. It's better that way.
Fucking hell am I brilliant.
Also again: I'm going to be in another play.
This one will be shorter and better, I think.
I have yet to read the script.
It goes up March 31st to April 2nd I believe.
It has something to do with baseball.
A subject which I know lots about.
And enjoy.
A lot.
Yes.
2.15.2007
2.14.2007
2.14.07
7:13 PM
I don't know how many of you have the more advanced iPod's (80 gig) or if it happens with all Apple mp3 players, but mine was thinking today.
I went out for a while on a audition at House (15th and 10th) and on this commute I decided to shuffle my iPod.
The first ten or fifteen songs included "Valentine's Day" by Marilyn Manson, "Happy Valentine's Day" by Andre 3000., "Queen Bitch" by Bowie and two live versions of "Debra" by Beck.
Let me say right up front that I might be paranoid and stupid, but the iPod has a pretty advanced CPU.
It can search for words, it has a calendar, it can connect to networks (podcasts and such) and I believe that since today is February 14th, my iPod picked songs that might fit in with Valentine's Day.
Either with the word "Valentine" in the title or a female name (that might be stretching it) or the word 'bitch", just as a joke.
Again, maybe I am paranoid and stupid, but maybe I am not.
We've all seen AI.
And speaking of AI, does anyone remember the INSANE little...I don't know...world that was created along with it?
Let me touch on it for a moment...
In the credits, there was a woman listed with a rather strange name. She was credited as "Robot Therapist" or something along those lines.
If you took the initiative as a viewer to Google or search for her name on the Net you would be lead into the massive, web spanning "game" for lack of a better term that tied into the movie and made it much more than just a sci-fi film.
Anyway, this new NIN album, year zero, was originally just a new NIN album, but recently, a lot of things are coming to light.
Nothing had really been revealed about the project aside from Reznor stating "it could be about the end of the world".
Nothing new.
But then an editor from SPIN magazine was treated to a few tracks by Reznor and said it was a story about a totalitarian government in the not-too-distant future set to a sci-fi background.
I became worried.
I think things like that are a bit...ridiculous. It's an album. It's a collection of sounds that equal seventy four minutes or less, that's all. It's not going to realign the thinking of the world or anything like that.
Up to this point, NIN albums have NOT been stories, they might have themes or feels to them, but they haven't been narratives or anything like that.
So I was worried.
A few days ago, NIN started their first European tour in a while.
One of the your shirts with the dates on the back, has a few letters highlighted.
The letters spelled 'i am trying to believe'.
Someone typed in www.iamtryingtobelieve.com and things got weird from there.
After the discovery of that site, several more web sites relating to the new album appeared.
These five or six web sites are set in a depressing and distopic future where the government (the Administration) is lying to people about bio-terrorism and putting stuff in the water and violating people's rights and a lot of other stuff.
It's much more detailed than I make it out to be.
Basically, they set up the world in which the album takes place, or refers to...I don't know.
It pieced together that 'year zero' refers to a declaration made by the President in the year 2022 that America is in need of a new beginning, so he resets the clock as it were, naming it 'year zero'. Any time before year zero is referred to as - # BA.
2007 is -15 BA.
Anyway, there are events that happened in this timeline including dirty bomb attacks, bio-terrorism, the US bombing Tehran and other such countries, the escalation of global warming and the adding of a drug called "parepin" to the nation's water supply in order to protect us from bio-terrorism.
You know, this must be boring as shit to people who don't care about Nine Inch Nails.
That includes everyone I know except for Barrett who already knows all this.
Never mind then.
What else...
Oh yes, Christina rocks and makes me boogie. I came in from my hellish trek thought the white shit and she made me a delicious and wholesome lunch, the first I've had since Kindergarten.
And I had a good audition today where I did 7 drastically different voices.
It's SAG so I probably won't get it, but it went well despite my fucking cold/flu/anal death.
The recording engineer commented after three of the more...strange voices, "Dude, that was fucking sick."
"Thank you", I responded, "I myself am feeling rather fucking sick."
Touch dolphins.
7:13 PM
I don't know how many of you have the more advanced iPod's (80 gig) or if it happens with all Apple mp3 players, but mine was thinking today.
I went out for a while on a audition at House (15th and 10th) and on this commute I decided to shuffle my iPod.
The first ten or fifteen songs included "Valentine's Day" by Marilyn Manson, "Happy Valentine's Day" by Andre 3000., "Queen Bitch" by Bowie and two live versions of "Debra" by Beck.
Let me say right up front that I might be paranoid and stupid, but the iPod has a pretty advanced CPU.
It can search for words, it has a calendar, it can connect to networks (podcasts and such) and I believe that since today is February 14th, my iPod picked songs that might fit in with Valentine's Day.
Either with the word "Valentine" in the title or a female name (that might be stretching it) or the word 'bitch", just as a joke.
Again, maybe I am paranoid and stupid, but maybe I am not.
We've all seen AI.
And speaking of AI, does anyone remember the INSANE little...I don't know...world that was created along with it?
Let me touch on it for a moment...
In the credits, there was a woman listed with a rather strange name. She was credited as "Robot Therapist" or something along those lines.
If you took the initiative as a viewer to Google or search for her name on the Net you would be lead into the massive, web spanning "game" for lack of a better term that tied into the movie and made it much more than just a sci-fi film.
Anyway, this new NIN album, year zero, was originally just a new NIN album, but recently, a lot of things are coming to light.
Nothing had really been revealed about the project aside from Reznor stating "it could be about the end of the world".
Nothing new.
But then an editor from SPIN magazine was treated to a few tracks by Reznor and said it was a story about a totalitarian government in the not-too-distant future set to a sci-fi background.
I became worried.
I think things like that are a bit...ridiculous. It's an album. It's a collection of sounds that equal seventy four minutes or less, that's all. It's not going to realign the thinking of the world or anything like that.
Up to this point, NIN albums have NOT been stories, they might have themes or feels to them, but they haven't been narratives or anything like that.
So I was worried.
A few days ago, NIN started their first European tour in a while.
One of the your shirts with the dates on the back, has a few letters highlighted.
The letters spelled 'i am trying to believe'.
Someone typed in www.iamtryingtobelieve.com and things got weird from there.
After the discovery of that site, several more web sites relating to the new album appeared.
These five or six web sites are set in a depressing and distopic future where the government (the Administration) is lying to people about bio-terrorism and putting stuff in the water and violating people's rights and a lot of other stuff.
It's much more detailed than I make it out to be.
Basically, they set up the world in which the album takes place, or refers to...I don't know.
It pieced together that 'year zero' refers to a declaration made by the President in the year 2022 that America is in need of a new beginning, so he resets the clock as it were, naming it 'year zero'. Any time before year zero is referred to as - # BA.
2007 is -15 BA.
Anyway, there are events that happened in this timeline including dirty bomb attacks, bio-terrorism, the US bombing Tehran and other such countries, the escalation of global warming and the adding of a drug called "parepin" to the nation's water supply in order to protect us from bio-terrorism.
You know, this must be boring as shit to people who don't care about Nine Inch Nails.
That includes everyone I know except for Barrett who already knows all this.
Never mind then.
What else...
Oh yes, Christina rocks and makes me boogie. I came in from my hellish trek thought the white shit and she made me a delicious and wholesome lunch, the first I've had since Kindergarten.
And I had a good audition today where I did 7 drastically different voices.
It's SAG so I probably won't get it, but it went well despite my fucking cold/flu/anal death.
The recording engineer commented after three of the more...strange voices, "Dude, that was fucking sick."
"Thank you", I responded, "I myself am feeling rather fucking sick."
Touch dolphins.
2.11.2007
Dis case...is pur...beeship.
Special thanks to everyone who came to see the show.
It went great every night and hit orgasmic heights of excellence on Saturday.
I was the Meaning of Life for a while there...and it felt good.
Thanks again to everyone who came out.
It went great every night and hit orgasmic heights of excellence on Saturday.
I was the Meaning of Life for a while there...and it felt good.
Thanks again to everyone who came out.
2.08.2007
Hashamyoon!
2.8.07
1:23 PM
It has been quite a volatile few weeks.
I was considering posting little journal entries here and there in order to get you all into this HUGE melon on top of my shoulders, but FUCK THAT, I am an actor and expression is my thing.
So, I put it all down in a PowerPoint Presentation.
This simple document contains:
The Apartment Hunt (tension, worry, terror, horror, depression, lethargy, hope, crushed hope, depression, money, dancing, motion, Flight from Bongos, paint, relief, the Celebration of Brunch)
The Excitement of the new Nine Inch Nails album (4.17.07)
The Annual Cock Notching in honor of my twenty sixth trip 'round the rim
The Childlike Wonder of me with my iPod, Bizagitronicon Xmax (picture Koko the Gorilla with her kitten, Lil' Black Sambo, whose name was later changed to Ginger).
The Trepidation and Joy of the show I am in (starting tonight)
And it's all boiled down into something Pure, something Real.
As soon as I find a way to post it here, Aisle due sew.
I have wrangled quite a few people to the three shows and I am VERY excited to be hosting this crazy thing.
VERY excited.
So excited that I want it to be over.
Is that weird?
Yes.
No.
Actually, not really.
I want to skip to the parts I know are excellent and funny and then just roll around in them like a pug in clover for days and days.
I wonder if there are any actors that aren't attention whores.
God I love attention.
Positive, negative, whatever.
Just...pay attention to me.
Pay it in seconds, minutes, hours months...whatever.
Just write that fucking check with your eyes and ears and fucking fatten my bank account.
God damn I'm good.
1:23 PM
It has been quite a volatile few weeks.
I was considering posting little journal entries here and there in order to get you all into this HUGE melon on top of my shoulders, but FUCK THAT, I am an actor and expression is my thing.
So, I put it all down in a PowerPoint Presentation.
This simple document contains:
The Apartment Hunt (tension, worry, terror, horror, depression, lethargy, hope, crushed hope, depression, money, dancing, motion, Flight from Bongos, paint, relief, the Celebration of Brunch)
The Excitement of the new Nine Inch Nails album (4.17.07)
The Annual Cock Notching in honor of my twenty sixth trip 'round the rim
The Childlike Wonder of me with my iPod, Bizagitronicon Xmax (picture Koko the Gorilla with her kitten, Lil' Black Sambo, whose name was later changed to Ginger).
The Trepidation and Joy of the show I am in (starting tonight)
And it's all boiled down into something Pure, something Real.
As soon as I find a way to post it here, Aisle due sew.
I have wrangled quite a few people to the three shows and I am VERY excited to be hosting this crazy thing.
VERY excited.
So excited that I want it to be over.
Is that weird?
Yes.
No.
Actually, not really.
I want to skip to the parts I know are excellent and funny and then just roll around in them like a pug in clover for days and days.
I wonder if there are any actors that aren't attention whores.
God I love attention.
Positive, negative, whatever.
Just...pay attention to me.
Pay it in seconds, minutes, hours months...whatever.
Just write that fucking check with your eyes and ears and fucking fatten my bank account.
God damn I'm good.
1.24.2007
God's got his finger in my ass...
1.24.07
5:55 PM
When it comes to bad days, I tend not to mark them down as such.
I let it pass and, occasionally reflect, fuck, that was a bad day.
Every once in a while though, there is a day (or series of days) SO bad that the events on said day(s) etch themselves into my mind so deeply that I am forced to reflect upon them.
Yesterday and today have been such days.
Some background:
Christina and I have stopped looking for an apartment.
We stopped looking about a week ago when her and I, working on a tip her friend Jen gave us, we walked into a place in her building out in Long Island City.
There was a paint splattered man who was surly until he found out we were Jen's friends.
Long story short, this place was perfect. 2 bedrooms, quiet and safe neighborhood with one and a half times the space (it even had 2 fucking closets!!!!) for just $54 more than what we are paying now.
We put in the application and everything seemed perfect.
We had found our new home.
Then:
Yesterday I was contacted and informed that our app was rejected.
I informed the lady (who was helpful and friendly throughout) that we love the apartment and was there any way we could get it?
She said if we were able to pay the yearly rent up front, we could have it.
In other words, if Christina and I could come up with $18,336 and change, we could have it.
I told her I was going to call her back in thirty minutes.
In those thirty minutes I called my father, Chris called her grandmother, aunt and cousin.
Between the five of us, we had the total.
My father, who spent over 40 years in real estate, suggested I find out if the owners of the building will take the first six months rather than the whole year, which was quite a lot of money, even dispersed unevenly among five people.
I called the lady back and asked her to ask them.
She said she would get back to me today.
Around 3ish, I call her (proactive one that I am) and she informs me that the owner will not accept the year's rent because this is a stabilized apartment and does not want to be obligated to renew a lease for people whose application was rejected.
So, the apartment was to be ours only if Chris and I borrowed thousands of dollars from our respective families, and then that was taken from us as well.
Along with this apartment shit, Chris has her own thing jump up ON THE SAME FUCKING DAY and earlier today I was told by my agent that some theatre company was offering me a part in a New York/New Jersey tour of Doctor Doolittle: The Play for a nice chunk of change only to find out a half hour later that they were looking for A DIFFERENT Paul.
Wrapping all this diseased feces up in a nice shit tortilla, tomorrow is my Birthday.
People, say good bye to me now, because if these things come in threes, I will probably get cancer and then burn to death in a horrible electric fire tomorrow.
Aside from a handful of horrific eye memories, this is, without hyperbole, the worst couple of days in my life thus far.
Congratulations go out to all those who wish me ill.
Whatever blood you're using, it works.
Invest in whatever brand of black magic candle you just used.
Cackle maniacally.
Enjoy.
I will post what sort of cancer I have tomorrow as long as my fingers have not been sheared off by some piece of malfunctioning machinery.
5:55 PM
When it comes to bad days, I tend not to mark them down as such.
I let it pass and, occasionally reflect, fuck, that was a bad day.
Every once in a while though, there is a day (or series of days) SO bad that the events on said day(s) etch themselves into my mind so deeply that I am forced to reflect upon them.
Yesterday and today have been such days.
Some background:
Christina and I have stopped looking for an apartment.
We stopped looking about a week ago when her and I, working on a tip her friend Jen gave us, we walked into a place in her building out in Long Island City.
There was a paint splattered man who was surly until he found out we were Jen's friends.
Long story short, this place was perfect. 2 bedrooms, quiet and safe neighborhood with one and a half times the space (it even had 2 fucking closets!!!!) for just $54 more than what we are paying now.
We put in the application and everything seemed perfect.
We had found our new home.
Then:
Yesterday I was contacted and informed that our app was rejected.
I informed the lady (who was helpful and friendly throughout) that we love the apartment and was there any way we could get it?
She said if we were able to pay the yearly rent up front, we could have it.
In other words, if Christina and I could come up with $18,336 and change, we could have it.
I told her I was going to call her back in thirty minutes.
In those thirty minutes I called my father, Chris called her grandmother, aunt and cousin.
Between the five of us, we had the total.
My father, who spent over 40 years in real estate, suggested I find out if the owners of the building will take the first six months rather than the whole year, which was quite a lot of money, even dispersed unevenly among five people.
I called the lady back and asked her to ask them.
She said she would get back to me today.
Around 3ish, I call her (proactive one that I am) and she informs me that the owner will not accept the year's rent because this is a stabilized apartment and does not want to be obligated to renew a lease for people whose application was rejected.
So, the apartment was to be ours only if Chris and I borrowed thousands of dollars from our respective families, and then that was taken from us as well.
Along with this apartment shit, Chris has her own thing jump up ON THE SAME FUCKING DAY and earlier today I was told by my agent that some theatre company was offering me a part in a New York/New Jersey tour of Doctor Doolittle: The Play for a nice chunk of change only to find out a half hour later that they were looking for A DIFFERENT Paul.
Wrapping all this diseased feces up in a nice shit tortilla, tomorrow is my Birthday.
People, say good bye to me now, because if these things come in threes, I will probably get cancer and then burn to death in a horrible electric fire tomorrow.
Aside from a handful of horrific eye memories, this is, without hyperbole, the worst couple of days in my life thus far.
Congratulations go out to all those who wish me ill.
Whatever blood you're using, it works.
Invest in whatever brand of black magic candle you just used.
Cackle maniacally.
Enjoy.
I will post what sort of cancer I have tomorrow as long as my fingers have not been sheared off by some piece of malfunctioning machinery.
1.18.2007
Nothing propinks like propinquity
1.18.07
1:29 PM
I know how everyone loves my bitchy stories about the idiots I work with and that is why I continue to relate them to you via the Internet. This is, as it has always been, for you.
In my feverish fuckrants you have heard about children dying under very suspicious circumstances, dead bodies being misplaced and frail pre-corpses wearing pajamas, bright yellow “do not let me out of this facility” bracelets and with gaping, whistling holes in their throats walking right out of the place, and, of course, a cavalcade of retardation that defies comment and often causes one to just sit and disbelieve.
The subject of this entry falls into that final category.
So, in front of this august establishment there is an American flag.
Every evening it is taken down and every morning it is put back up.
I’m just going to cut right to it: some shining example of dumb fuckery hung the American flag upside down.
About four minutes ago (six and a half hours or so after the fact), someone noticed and corrected the situation.
Now, it isn’t illegal to hang the American flag upside down, it indicates distress.
So either the person that did this is a very clever and ironic person who was making a genius statement that this place is in a perpetual state of distress or a total fucking moron incapable of looking up.
Guess which one my money is on.
All the other instances (lost bodies, resident escaping, kids dying) are caused by a chain of stupid people bumping into one another and being distracted by something shiny, a loud noise or a kitty cat and not doing their job, but in this case, there was just a lone idiot who, in a simple, powerful gesture, expressed to everyone passing this establishment that we are a building full of people who are all in distress.
I applaud you, you solitary mook, you have summed this place up quite nicely.
1:29 PM
I know how everyone loves my bitchy stories about the idiots I work with and that is why I continue to relate them to you via the Internet. This is, as it has always been, for you.
In my feverish fuckrants you have heard about children dying under very suspicious circumstances, dead bodies being misplaced and frail pre-corpses wearing pajamas, bright yellow “do not let me out of this facility” bracelets and with gaping, whistling holes in their throats walking right out of the place, and, of course, a cavalcade of retardation that defies comment and often causes one to just sit and disbelieve.
The subject of this entry falls into that final category.
So, in front of this august establishment there is an American flag.
Every evening it is taken down and every morning it is put back up.
I’m just going to cut right to it: some shining example of dumb fuckery hung the American flag upside down.
About four minutes ago (six and a half hours or so after the fact), someone noticed and corrected the situation.
Now, it isn’t illegal to hang the American flag upside down, it indicates distress.
So either the person that did this is a very clever and ironic person who was making a genius statement that this place is in a perpetual state of distress or a total fucking moron incapable of looking up.
Guess which one my money is on.
All the other instances (lost bodies, resident escaping, kids dying) are caused by a chain of stupid people bumping into one another and being distracted by something shiny, a loud noise or a kitty cat and not doing their job, but in this case, there was just a lone idiot who, in a simple, powerful gesture, expressed to everyone passing this establishment that we are a building full of people who are all in distress.
I applaud you, you solitary mook, you have summed this place up quite nicely.
1.13.2007
"Hidden In This Picture" A Play by Aaron Sorkin
Hey. Unsupportive douchebags, I'm in a play Thursday February 8th through Saturday February 10th.
Come see me.
Details and tickets are here.
Come see me.
Details and tickets are here.
1.12.2007
Love Sandwich
1.12.07
4:05 PM
Sandwiches are great.
They were originally made in order to save time (instead of sitting and eating bread, lettuce, tomato and meat you would just stack them together) but have since become something…bigger. Something more integral to our daily lives.
As children we are introduced to the world of sandwiches with the magic of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
And that is just the beginning.
You have your typical meat/cheese sandwiches: ham and Swiss, turkey and Munster, bologna (why are we taught as children to pronounce this as “ba-LOW-nee”?) and American.
You have your meat/vegetable sandwiches: the BLT and liverwurst (which is disgusting) and onion.
Your Zen (upper class) or welfare (lower class) sandwiches: mayonnaise, mustard and bread sandwiches respectively.
Your salad sandwiches: egg, tuna, chicken, shrimp.
Your ethnic sandwiches: Cucumber, Reuben, pastrami and rye.
You club sandwich for meat-loving fat people and toothpick enthusiasts.
Add any number of condiments and the universe of flavor expands.
Heat it up and you have gone from lunch to dinner in the time it takes to jump a few degrees on the thermometer.
There’s also the always delicious dessert sandwich which is facilitated by using honey, Nutela and/or Fluff.
There’s even something for vegans and Elvis with the peanut butter and onion sandwich and the fried banana, peanut butter and bacon sandwich.
Then, some genius discovered that pretty much anything can be a sandwich as long as there are two slices of bread involved.
Hence the Thanksgiving sandwich.
The same genius (who actually turned out to be a mad man) then took the next step and sealed the sandwich inside itself with the wrap.
A perfect example of these techniques used in perfect harmony can be found in the Hot Pocket.
There is no wrong way to make a sandwich unless you use Vegemite or Marmite.
I strongly suggest you try sandwich experimentation in order to broaden your food horizons.
I myself have invented the Xmax which consists of proschuto and mozzarella stacked high between two pancakes.
Don’t you say a fucking word until you’ve tried it.
On an unrelated note: today was just fine.
I found out I can attach my iPod to my Bose Wave thing and did so with excellent results.
I then headed out to pick up the next two Bond books and I found the very last copy of Gorillaz: Rise of the Ogre at the uptown Barnes & Noble’s for 50% off.
I also got my copy of 12 Rounds’ album “My Big Hero” which kicks fucking ass and which features Atticus Ross (producer of most recent NIN albums), Barry Adamson (of David Lynch fame) and Nick Cave (“the Stephen King of rock”).
I did have to use my AK, but just a little.
Other than that, everything was great.
Tomorrow I explore the dark heart of New York City with Chris and then there’s rehearsal for “Hidden In This Picture” (the Aaron Sorkin play which I’m in that goes up Thursday February 8th, Friday February 9th and Saturday February 10th at the Red Room in Downtown NYC).
Sunday will consist of more Brunch fun with Lauren and Chris in LIC and an extended bout of bringing sexy back consisting of a trip to see “Alpha Dog”.
In my defense for seeing a movie starring Justin Timberlake: remember Mark Walberg? Did you see him in the “Good Vibrations” video lifting weights in a factory while is was raining and think that one day he would be the star of “Boogie Nights”, one of the best movies ever?
Did not fucking think so.
Well, I am hedging my bets.
Anyone interested in joining must be willing to beg for a spot.
Space is extremely limited for people who are not actively trying to bring sexy back.
You know who you fucking are.
4:05 PM
Sandwiches are great.
They were originally made in order to save time (instead of sitting and eating bread, lettuce, tomato and meat you would just stack them together) but have since become something…bigger. Something more integral to our daily lives.
As children we are introduced to the world of sandwiches with the magic of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
And that is just the beginning.
You have your typical meat/cheese sandwiches: ham and Swiss, turkey and Munster, bologna (why are we taught as children to pronounce this as “ba-LOW-nee”?) and American.
You have your meat/vegetable sandwiches: the BLT and liverwurst (which is disgusting) and onion.
Your Zen (upper class) or welfare (lower class) sandwiches: mayonnaise, mustard and bread sandwiches respectively.
Your salad sandwiches: egg, tuna, chicken, shrimp.
Your ethnic sandwiches: Cucumber, Reuben, pastrami and rye.
You club sandwich for meat-loving fat people and toothpick enthusiasts.
Add any number of condiments and the universe of flavor expands.
Heat it up and you have gone from lunch to dinner in the time it takes to jump a few degrees on the thermometer.
There’s also the always delicious dessert sandwich which is facilitated by using honey, Nutela and/or Fluff.
There’s even something for vegans and Elvis with the peanut butter and onion sandwich and the fried banana, peanut butter and bacon sandwich.
Then, some genius discovered that pretty much anything can be a sandwich as long as there are two slices of bread involved.
Hence the Thanksgiving sandwich.
The same genius (who actually turned out to be a mad man) then took the next step and sealed the sandwich inside itself with the wrap.
A perfect example of these techniques used in perfect harmony can be found in the Hot Pocket.
There is no wrong way to make a sandwich unless you use Vegemite or Marmite.
I strongly suggest you try sandwich experimentation in order to broaden your food horizons.
I myself have invented the Xmax which consists of proschuto and mozzarella stacked high between two pancakes.
Don’t you say a fucking word until you’ve tried it.
On an unrelated note: today was just fine.
I found out I can attach my iPod to my Bose Wave thing and did so with excellent results.
I then headed out to pick up the next two Bond books and I found the very last copy of Gorillaz: Rise of the Ogre at the uptown Barnes & Noble’s for 50% off.
I also got my copy of 12 Rounds’ album “My Big Hero” which kicks fucking ass and which features Atticus Ross (producer of most recent NIN albums), Barry Adamson (of David Lynch fame) and Nick Cave (“the Stephen King of rock”).
I did have to use my AK, but just a little.
Other than that, everything was great.
Tomorrow I explore the dark heart of New York City with Chris and then there’s rehearsal for “Hidden In This Picture” (the Aaron Sorkin play which I’m in that goes up Thursday February 8th, Friday February 9th and Saturday February 10th at the Red Room in Downtown NYC).
Sunday will consist of more Brunch fun with Lauren and Chris in LIC and an extended bout of bringing sexy back consisting of a trip to see “Alpha Dog”.
In my defense for seeing a movie starring Justin Timberlake: remember Mark Walberg? Did you see him in the “Good Vibrations” video lifting weights in a factory while is was raining and think that one day he would be the star of “Boogie Nights”, one of the best movies ever?
Did not fucking think so.
Well, I am hedging my bets.
Anyone interested in joining must be willing to beg for a spot.
Space is extremely limited for people who are not actively trying to bring sexy back.
You know who you fucking are.
1.10.2007
1.03.2007
Luring disco dollies to a life of vice...
1.3.07
5:43 PM
First: the best song in the world is “Sex Dwarf” by Soft Cell.
It has an infectious synth riff that will show up on your blood test and backing vocals that will make you laugh with uncertainty.
I put it up on my myspace page so check it out.
Next: I went to the new Apple store (the one on 59th) today to get some accessories for BIZAG.
People, this is what the future looks like.
And in the future, everyone will be a gay hippie.
And we will all carry shining drawstring bags.
Finally: Next time you eat food, I want you to chew each mouthful fifty (50) times.
I want to see if you can you fucking wolfcows.
Appendage: I am going to meet David Lynch next Thursday at his signing at Barnes & Noble.
If anyone wants to see me get weird and squishy, come with.
7pm at some downtown B&N.
Appendage the Second: I went out and bought some DVD cases and a good stock of paper and now I can make my unofficial official copies of ‘Closure’ and The Broken Movie.
I don’t know if I mentioned it, but here’s the nugget:
In 1997 Nine Inch Nails released a 2-VHS collection called ‘Closure’. The first tape was a tour journal-type thing with live footage, interview stuff and backstage antics. Tape two was NIN’s videography thus far.
Flash forward to 2004.
Reznor announces that there is going to be a 10th anniversary re-release of his 1994 multi-platinum album “The Downward Spiral” (which doesn’t come out until November 2005). He also posts a teaser for a deluxe 2-disc edition of ‘Closure’ on DVD, boasting 90 minutes of extra footage.
At the end of the teaser the words “fall 2004” appear.
The teaser came out around the middle of 2004.
By the middle of 2005 ‘Closure’ is finished, but for legal reasons it cannot be released.
“Red tape” is the reason given by Reznor.
Flash forward to December 20th, 2006.
A torrent (which, by definition, is always unofficial) for the prototype ‘Closure’ DVD (complete with extra features and digital remastering) appears on The Pirate Bay website.
About a day later, Reznor posts this in his blog:
“Merry Christmas.
Consider this a guilt-free download.
(Shhh—I didn’t say that…)
If you know what I’m talking about, cool…”
Around this time a torrent (posted by the same poster as ‘Closure’) uploaded a pristine copy of The Broken Movie, a series of music videos united by one storyline that was created to accompany the 1992 Nine Inch Nails EP ‘Broken’.
Bottom line is this: Reznor said ‘fuck you’ to the label and ‘thank you’ to his fans all at once.
Rather than wait another year for the record label to sort out their shit, he simply gave the fans something special.
This is why his fans are so rabid.
Anyway, with my dual layer DVD burner, a $54 stack of DVD+R DL’s (a format I didn’t know existed two weeks ago), some nice matte photo paper and my printer, I will soon have the closest thing to an official release of both ‘Closure’ and The Broken Movie that there will (at this point) ever be.
This is what both James Brown and Saddam Hussein died for.
I thank them both.
5:43 PM
First: the best song in the world is “Sex Dwarf” by Soft Cell.
It has an infectious synth riff that will show up on your blood test and backing vocals that will make you laugh with uncertainty.
I put it up on my myspace page so check it out.
Next: I went to the new Apple store (the one on 59th) today to get some accessories for BIZAG.
People, this is what the future looks like.
And in the future, everyone will be a gay hippie.
And we will all carry shining drawstring bags.
Finally: Next time you eat food, I want you to chew each mouthful fifty (50) times.
I want to see if you can you fucking wolfcows.
Appendage: I am going to meet David Lynch next Thursday at his signing at Barnes & Noble.
If anyone wants to see me get weird and squishy, come with.
7pm at some downtown B&N.
Appendage the Second: I went out and bought some DVD cases and a good stock of paper and now I can make my unofficial official copies of ‘Closure’ and The Broken Movie.
I don’t know if I mentioned it, but here’s the nugget:
In 1997 Nine Inch Nails released a 2-VHS collection called ‘Closure’. The first tape was a tour journal-type thing with live footage, interview stuff and backstage antics. Tape two was NIN’s videography thus far.
Flash forward to 2004.
Reznor announces that there is going to be a 10th anniversary re-release of his 1994 multi-platinum album “The Downward Spiral” (which doesn’t come out until November 2005). He also posts a teaser for a deluxe 2-disc edition of ‘Closure’ on DVD, boasting 90 minutes of extra footage.
At the end of the teaser the words “fall 2004” appear.
The teaser came out around the middle of 2004.
By the middle of 2005 ‘Closure’ is finished, but for legal reasons it cannot be released.
“Red tape” is the reason given by Reznor.
Flash forward to December 20th, 2006.
A torrent (which, by definition, is always unofficial) for the prototype ‘Closure’ DVD (complete with extra features and digital remastering) appears on The Pirate Bay website.
About a day later, Reznor posts this in his blog:
“Merry Christmas.
Consider this a guilt-free download.
(Shhh—I didn’t say that…)
If you know what I’m talking about, cool…”
Around this time a torrent (posted by the same poster as ‘Closure’) uploaded a pristine copy of The Broken Movie, a series of music videos united by one storyline that was created to accompany the 1992 Nine Inch Nails EP ‘Broken’.
Bottom line is this: Reznor said ‘fuck you’ to the label and ‘thank you’ to his fans all at once.
Rather than wait another year for the record label to sort out their shit, he simply gave the fans something special.
This is why his fans are so rabid.
Anyway, with my dual layer DVD burner, a $54 stack of DVD+R DL’s (a format I didn’t know existed two weeks ago), some nice matte photo paper and my printer, I will soon have the closest thing to an official release of both ‘Closure’ and The Broken Movie that there will (at this point) ever be.
This is what both James Brown and Saddam Hussein died for.
I thank them both.
1.02.2007
...and boy it's rough...
1.2.07
5:18 PM
Biiiig year this is set to be.
Chris and I moving to a two bedroom place, taking that next step in our seven year relationship, new Nine Inch Nails album, two new They Might Be Giants albums…
Hmmm…
Actually, that’s it.
Never mind.
5:18 PM
Biiiig year this is set to be.
Chris and I moving to a two bedroom place, taking that next step in our seven year relationship, new Nine Inch Nails album, two new They Might Be Giants albums…
Hmmm…
Actually, that’s it.
Never mind.
12.20.2006
An Octopussy To A Kill
12.14.06
3:33 PM
Yes.
The movie is called “Octopussy”.
Let’s move on.
This is the first time we see another 00 agent in action (009 to be precise) which would be cool except for the fact that he is dressed like a clown and dies soon after from a knife in his back.
Bummer.
Bond starts this one off by pretending to be a Spanish General then blowing up some bad guys.
So far, so good.
After this, we are introduced to a bunch of Russians, one of which is crazy. That’s General Orloff. Whoever played this guy did a pretty good job.
They try to introduce some political stuff into this movie but don’t do a very good job and end up relying on a “there’s a bomb” plot instead.
But before the bomb, there is the egg. 009 stumbled into a party carrying a Faberge egg.
There is a silly little bit about switching the real egg for the fake at an auction where we see the most effete Bond villain ever—Kamal Khan (although he is also very polite and a great host…he throws a dinner party for Bond complete with stuffed sheep’s head…hm.).
Bond follows the hot, eggy action to India and runs into Kamal again at a game of high stakes backgammon where he uses Kamal’s loaded dice against him.
Biotch!! You been DICED!!!
We also meet Kamal’s right hand man, who was the model for the character Great Tiger from Nintendo’s Mike Tyson’s Punch Out, minus the flying around in circles thing.
And, for some reason, whenever he is mentioned or referred to or shown on screen, the director chose to ZOOMINQUICKLY to Great Tiger’s face. The effect is pure hilarity.
After burning Kamal for millions of rupees (totaling $40 US) he sets Great Tiger after him on a magical chase through the crowded streets of India.
Incidentally, they did a great job shooing away the starving homeless and filling the streets with extras, fire breathers, sword swallowers (Bond removes the sword in order to engage a baddie), nail bed people (Bond tosses a guy onto it) and hot coal walkers. You can taste the realism. It tastes like curry and kerosene.
After the chase, Bond puts some moves on this hot chick who turns out to be a Kamal supporter and, after the scrumping, Bond notices a tattoo of a blue and yellow octopus on her lower back. When he asks her what it is she says, “Oh, that’s my little octopussy.”
Bond refrains from commenting, as shall I.
She escapes with the real egg into which Bond has cleverly installed a microphone.
Bond is then held captive sort of and sneaks around Kamal’s Purple Palace where he discovers a cooler full of bodies, which he hides in.
He is then aided in his escape by some helpful body chuckers who zip him up into a big canvas body bag. Right as he is about to be thrown off a body dumping cliff, he plays the zombie card and scares away the guards.
He is then chased by Kamal on an elephant.
In the next two minutes, Bond runs into a spider, a tiger (which he orders to sit and which obeys), a bunch of leeches, a snake (which he orders to “hiss off” and which does) and an alligator.
India is, by far, the most dangerous place Bond has ever been.
Just when you think he is nipped by the opposition, he swings from vine to vine (accompanied, naturally, by the Tarzan “I’m swinging from vine to vine” sound effect) and swims to a tour boat.
Style points xmax.
Soon after all this kerfluffle, Bond discovers that Kamal is working with a mysterious woman smuggler named Octopussy who runs an island restricted to all but women.
Attractive women.
Scantily clad, attractive women.
Scantily clad, attractive women with large bosoms.
Bond’s reaction to this information is brilliant:
“An island full of only women? Why that’s sexual discrimination.”
Bam. Fuck him ladies, he looks just like my grandpa…who is dead.
When he gets there he finds out that Octopussy (which by the way is her father’s pet name for her…that’s healthy) is in debt to him for killing her father. This was good for her for some reason.
Then Kamal comes in and Bond is all like “I’m going to have sex with Octopussy” and he’s like “I heart the ky-yock” and Bond is like, “Well, duh.”
Then Kamal, who is heartbroken over the fact that Bond is strictly AC, goes to a creepy fucking one-eyed Hindi fucker who chuckles a lot and gets some crazy saw blade yo-yo psycho to go after Bond.
Bond kisses an angry Octopussy and then has sex with his Octopenis.
Honestly, if anyone but Bond kissed that many angry, crying women, he’d be arrested as a rapist. I guess it’s the accent.
Anyway, post-coitus, Yo-Yo Death takes out Bond’s side kick who was fun and a tennis pro. Bond gets stony faced and says let’s fuck up these dragon farts.
The Yo-Yo Death people invade the Isle of Vage and one of the baddies gets killed by a poison octopus.
A Rock Octopus.
Most of the rest get fucked up by Bond who slides down a marble banister with an AK-47 shooting off the newel post before it turns him into a double O eunuch.
After this impressive shoot out, it’s off to the circus.
The Big Bad Guy is planning to not only double cross Octopussy but also detonate a nuclear device on German soil that will cause some crazy Russian reaction that benefits the aforementioned General Orloff.
Bond has an awesome train-top fight with a knife thrower and Great Tiger after hiding in a gorilla costume. Bond gets tossed off the train with the knife thrower and is then chased through the woods by the same knife thrower that killed 009.
Is 007 doomed to the same fate or do we smell vengeance?
No. Bond gets killed by the knife thrower and the movie ends.
Or does he/it?
Of course Bond kills the knife thrower (with his own knife even) and avenges 009.
Then Bond hitchhikes to the circus with some jolly Germans. He then sneaks in and becomes a Killer Klown from the British Secret Service who, in just the nick of time, diffuses the bomb.
What’s left but to take out the Big Bad Guy at his hideout?
Nothing.
So, Octopussy and her Circus of Twizzies (with the help of Bond and Q—who arrives in a huge Union Jack hot air balloon) use their circus ninja skills to break into and takeover Kamal’s castle.
An interesting note: the invasion starts at night (and this is one of the first night shoots that takes place AT NIGHT in the Bond franchise) and ends about twenty minutes later…in broad daylight.
Uh…continuity…hellooo?
The castle and all the baddies inside are dispatched but the Big Bad Guy and Great Tiger escape with Octopussy (although it would have been much easier to just kill her because a.) it would have lightened their load and b.) it would have upset Bond and made him emotional and sloppy but NOOOO) in an airplane that Bond jumps onto.
Then Great Tiger and Bond have a flight on top of the plane which Great Tiger loses.
Bond then disables the plane, rescues the girl and Kamal goes down (snicker) in flames.
Bond gets pretty banged up in the landing and later we see him on a galley in traction with his arm and leg in a cast, but with one suggestive remark, he snaps his proverbial chains and proceeds to tickle Octopussy’s tentacles once again.
Not even broken bones can stop his sex.
Quintuplepussy:
2 (the egg stealing tattoo lady and Maud “Octopussy” Adams*
*It’s about time I brought this up…
In several Bond movies (six, to be exact) the same actor has been brought back to play a different character. Now, at age 25, it is obvious that they are the same actor playing different parts, but when I was a child, I was a bit boggled, especially in one case.
The first occurrence is between “You Only Live Twice” and “Diamonds Are Forever” where Charles Gray (the narrator from “Rocky Horror Picture Show”) plays an ally of Bond (named, coincidentally enough as you read the summary of “The Living Daylights”, Whitaker) who gets knifed in the back and dies (YOLT) and Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Bond’s nemesis (Diamonds).
Next we see Maud Adams (AKA Cheekbone McSkeleton) as Scaramanga’s ill fated cock sock in “The Man With The Golden Gun” and then as Miss Independent Woman herself, Octopussy in…”Octopussy”.
It happens one more time in “The Living Daylights” and “GoldenEye” with actor Joe Don Baker. He is a fun character both times, in one a bad guy, in one a good guy, but I’ll mention that later.
Say good-bye to Roger Moore and Lois Maxwell.
Say hello to Nazi doctors and the eternally terrifying Grace Jones.
This is “A View To A Kill”.
This is also one of, if not THE best Bond theme and title sequence (which is offset by THE worst title drop), complete with women wearing nothing but ski parkas and Day-Glo paint.
We first see Bond as a snow bunny, swaddled in more clothes than the baby Jesus. But the baby Jesus never had to outrun Russian ski troops.
Bond recovers a microchip from the corpse of 003 and then is chased by these Russians fucks in front of a blue screen.
Bond first loses a ski and manages on one for a while, but after he decides that isn’t impressive enough, uses the rigging from a snowmobile as a snowboard…set to the Beach Boys’ “California Girls”.
It is one of the best moments in a Bond movie.
He then carries out a Jesus-esque “snowboard across water” feat before firing a smoke bomb into the opposition’s helicopter, causing it to crash into a mountainside.
Having accomplished his mission, it is now time for sex. Five days worth of sex with his slutty blonde contact he meets up with at the water’s edge.
Give it to her once for me, James.
Then Duran Duran lead us into the future with synthesizers and keyboard riffs.
And, folks, the future, despite what Prince says, rocks.
Now, at this point (and probably at several points throughout) I am going to mention the fact that Moore is 57 years old in this movie.
In the new M’s office (we last saw the old M in Moonraker. He left the series in protest of Shirley Bassey’s shitty theme song) we find out that the microchip Bond recovered is special because it is impervious to electromagnetic pulses, rendering a nuclear explosion harmless (aside from the huge wave of destruction). Here is an interesting thing: the plot of “GoldenEye” centers around a nuclear device installed in a satellite that, when detonated over the Earth, will cause all electrical equipment to shut down because of the EMP. The villain plans to do this over London, thus destroying the global economy.
The issue I bring up is this: if they have these microchips in hand in 1985, why not use them so in 1995, this villain’s plan will be less destructive?
Think about it.
Anyway, the guy making the microchips is none other that crazy American industrialist…Max Zorin.
Zorin is played by a man that needs no introduction.
Bond goes to Paris to meet up with a private detective who is privately investigating Zorin. They meet at a restaurant in the Eiffel Tower where, after contributing absofuckinglutely NOTHING to the movie, the PI (who must have had a terrible accent because all his lines were dubbed over badly) is killed by a butterfly ninja who turns out to be Zorin’s right hand psycho, May Day (played far too convincingly by manly man Grace “Who and Why Did People Find Her Attractive?” Jones). After he chases her upward for a bit, she jumps off and a parachute (black and yellow…the colors of SPECTRE) bursts open, foiling Bond.
Or does it?
He somehow manages to climb down the tower and steal a cab from a French taxi driver who is sitting behind the wheel and drinking a glass of wine.
Tres realistic.
He chases the parachute through Paris, tearing off the roof and back half of the cab in the process (it truly is a great chase scene).
She lands on a wedding boat (where a French jazz band is playing a French jazz rendition of the theme song) and, just as Bond arrives, crashing through the roof and spoiling these poor French people’s wedding, escapes in a speedboat driven by Zorin.
Here’s a question: usually the Big Bad Guy has layers and layers of lackeys to do his job, why the fuck would he straight up expose himself within the first half hour of the movie?
Because he is a psycho, that’s why.
I mean it, he is an experimental superhuman created by a Nazi doctor after WW2.
By the by, Walken had to do very little research for this part.
After all this shit, Bond is sent to investigate Zorin and his affairs and he gets an invitation to Zorin’s horse show as James St. John Smith (last word pronounced in the obnoxious British fashion as to rhyme with the farming implement that Death wields) accompanied by Sir Godfrey Tibbit, who is going undercover with Bond as his valet.
The interaction between Bond and Tibbit are great and you really come to enjoy his character.
Bond meets some ditzy chick at the house party who is doing something mysterious with Zorin (and, trying to start a conversation with her, says in the cutest way imaginable, “I’m English!”) and the aforementioned crazy Nazi doctor. He snaps a few pictures of the key players with his trusty camera ring (awesome gadget) and then teases Zorin with the old “I know your minion killed that badly dubbed Frenchman with a ninja butterfly thing at the Eiffel Tower” tactic. Zorin is abashed and around that time decides to have him watched if not killed.
After this flagrant display of blowing-his-cover-ness, May Day tells Zorin that “that man looks so familiar”.
Hang on.
He shot at you. He chased you around Paris in half a car. He caused you to jump off the goddamn Eiffel Tower! How many times in a week does this happen for you to not recognize him?!
In the evening, Tibbit and Bond go sleuthing and find a secret lab (crazy fucking Nazis and their crazy fucking secret labs) where they find out that Zorin has been using the EMP-proof chips to cheat at horse racing.
Ooooh, look at the Big Bad Guy, cheating at horse racing!! Watch out Blofeld, Zorin’s going to corner the world horse racing industry!!
Just kidding.
Bond and Tibbit have a rousing bout with some Zorin thugs and set the whole place on watch for them.
Zorin is practicing judo with May Day (who is sporting a nightmarishly revealing spandex leotard) and is about to have nightmarish judo sex with her until he is interrupted by the phone call that Bond is running around loose, a fact which causes Zorin to utter one of the funniest lines in the movie: “We must find him”. He says it as Christopher Walken would say it before he became the Christopher Walken that simply sells tickets by being in something. This is the Christopher Walken who still had to work for it.
And he does a great job.
Anyway, Bond evades capture by sacrificing his body…to Grace Jones.
As a result, he is made pregnant with her seed.
This is why “View” is the last Moore Bond, because Grace Jones made him pregnant and because Christopher Walken ate his soul.
The next day, Zorin is done fucking around. He invites “Mr. St. John Smith” to his office, takes his picture and identifies him as Bond.
He then challenges Bond to a horse race, during which Zorin’s horseback thugs try to kill him and fail, not knowing that Bond is (along with being a secret agent, an astronaut, a ninja and a stunt driver) an equestrian.
Mores the pity for them.
Luckily, Zorin cheats and soon Bond is subdued with poor, dead Tibbit who was aced by May Day.
Next stop, Mr. Bond…the bottom of the fucking lake.
But mere water cannot kill Bond, something that Zorin will soon learn.
And now, it’s about time to reveal to the audience what the fuck this crazy bastard is up to.
Hint: it has NOTHING to do with horses, in fact, General Gogol (who Zorin used to work for as a KGB agent) chewed out Zorin for all this…heh heh heh…horseplay and things looked grim, until May Day lifted one of the General’s men over her head…because she is a monster.
Soon after this, the people in charge of this flick decide that we, the audience, have been in the dark for long enough as far as the plot is concerned.
They decide to solve the problem by having a Big Bad Guy meeting.
We see Zorin explaining pretty much everything (with the help of an excellent little model that he calls forth from the floor with sheer force of will.
However…there is always some poor fuck who does not want to be a part of the Big Bad Guy’s plan.
Well, Max Zorin knows how to handle them.
Here’s a hint: he drops them out of a blimp.
And it is from this blimp that the worst Bond movie title drop is uttered by Grace Jones and Christopher Walken.
When the Golden Gate Bridge floats into view, May Day says: “Wow…what a view…”, then Walken says, in the only way it’s possible to say something this stupid, “…to a kill!”
Ladies and gentlemen, yet another reason this is the last Moore Bond.
Suddenly, Bond’s in San Francisco and is talking in code to a fish monger.
Then Bond is introduced to a pirate captain who is complaining about crabs.
I shit ye not.
So Bond investigates…AND ALMOST GETS SUCKED INTO AN UNDERWATER DEATH VALVE!!!
But he doesn’t; some poor Russian spy does, but that’s what you get for snooping around Zorin’s shit, man. Just leave the guy alone! He only wants to be left alone! God!
Bond sees another Russian spy escaping and chases him down. The him turns out to be a her that Bond boinked once in the past and they escape to a Chinese bath house in San Fran.
They engage in jacuzzi coitus.
Then, while Bond is washing the cundy off his gadgets, the Russian spy runs off with a tape recording of Zorin talking about his plan “Project: Main Strike” (which, I think, was an opening band for Duran Duran in ’82…) but who could ever believe the Russians are more intelligent than the British…Bond switched the tapes.
Now, Bond knows that something bad is going to happen in the next few days.
So, naturally, Bond goes to City Hall (as reporter James Stock for the London Financial Times) and just asks. While he’s there, he sees that hot, stupid ditz from Zorin’s horse party and follows her home.
He then uses a Sharper Image device which appears to have the sole purpose of breaking into people’s homes through their windows and sneaks into her place.
Her pet cat (named "Pussy") flashes down the stairs past Bond making a noise, for some strange reason, like an exploding dinosaur.
Bond introduces himself to her (as James Stock…oh the delicious pun…) at gunpoint (hers, not his) and before she can shoot him: HOME INVASION!!!!
Bond fights off the goons with a shotgun loaded with rock salt.
It is during this fight that I took note of how daintily Roger Moore kicks people.
Hard to explain: just watch this fight scene to understand better.
After the fight, Bond cooks a majestic meal for Idiot Stacey.
He can now add Master Chef to his resume (secret agent, ninja, astronaut, stunt driver and equestrian).
A bottle and a half of wine later, Bond gently puts Stacey to bed, not touching her. The tenderness of that scene is lost a moment later though, when Bond is seen crying and masturbating furiously on her pet cat…Pussy.
In the morning, Stacey and James go to City Hall to report Zorin’s badness. Stacey gets fired and Bond gets an erection.
They talk to Bond’s CIA connection and then he and she decide to break into City Hall that night and see if they can find any more info.
For some reason, they find info on Project: Main Strike in a file cabinet in City Hall.
Question: why the fuck are there plans for Zorin’s evil plot filed in City Hall?
I’m too baffled to even invent a funny answer.
As Bond and Stacey are about to achieve some goal, Zorin and May Day (and Zorin’s evil head of security) show up and things gets sticky…with bloodshed!!!
Zorin leads Bond and Stacey into Stacey’s boss’s office and then tells him to call the cops because these two people broke into City Hall to kill him.
Then her boss cocks his head and says, in the worst acting in the series perhaps, “But…that would mean…I would have to be….” And then Zorin says, “Dead!” and shoots him.
Brilliant.
Clap clap clap.
Then the shit gets wicked as Zorin traps Bond and Stacey in an elevator while tossing Molotov cocktails all over the place.
I have never seen Walken more content in a role than he is here, throwing fire bombs all around a government building.
They leave with Bond and Stacey safely dying in the elevator.
But Bond. Does. Not. Die.
He and Stacey escape only to be accused of murder by the idiot San Fran Police which spurs a massive chase scene through the city with Bond driving a stolen fire engine and then giving the wheel to Stacey while Bond (for no fucking reason at all) climbs from the front to the back of the fire engine.
Eventually, Bond and Stacey outrun half a dozen police cars in a fire truck…somehow.
Hours later, they pull up to Zorin’s abandoned mine shaft base and they discover his stupid plan…to cause a “double earthquake”…something SO rare that Zorin had to invent a name for it…that will destroy all of silicon valley, leaving him in charge of all the world’s microchip production.
The sad thing is, I don’t think this is the stupidest plot in Bond history.
Long story short, Zorin kills everybody in the mine with either a machine gun (laughing all the while he is gunning them down, earning him another Psychopath Biscuit), an explosion, a flood or his bleached blond hair.
The only survivors are Bond, May Day, Stacey and Zorin’s people (the head of security and his Nazi doctor).
May Day sees that Zorin has killed a friend of hers and changes sides.
Her and Bond lift a huge bomb from out the San Andreas Fault and May Day sacrifices herself in order to foil Zorin’s crazy plan.
In retaliation for this thwarting, Zorin swoops down in his house/blimp and grabs Stacey.
Bond just barely grabs onto a conveniently placed rope hanging from the blimp and proceeds to make escape difficult for Zorin and his crew by tying the aforementioned conveniently placed rope around a part of the Golden Gate Bridge, hindering its movement.
Making the smartest decision there is, Zorin decides to step out onto the bridge and fight Bond with a fire ax.
After a battle that redefines the “Ax Fights On Top Of The Golden Gate Bridge” genre, Zorin tumbles from the bridge, screaming as only a thwarted Christopher Walken can: loudly.
But we’re not safe yet!!!!!!!!!
That blimp still holds a Nazi doctor and a newly unemployed head of security, neither of which are very fond…of Bond.
So, making the second smartest decision there is, the crazy old Nazi opens a safe and removes a bundle of dynamite…something you should never not have on a blimp and lights it.
He then proceeds to drop it when Bond chops the guy wire, setting the blimp free and next thing you know, Bond is short two nemeses.
It’s fuck time.
“A View To The Clap”
4* (Slutty blonde contact in sub, May Day—shudder, Natasha Banikov and Stacey the Erotic Geologist)
*Since this is Moore’s last hurrah they decided to REALLY milk him. Remember that one of these women got the Bond treatment for five days straight in a submarine.
I knew there was a reason Moore looked so wrinkled.
3:33 PM
Yes.
The movie is called “Octopussy”.
Let’s move on.
This is the first time we see another 00 agent in action (009 to be precise) which would be cool except for the fact that he is dressed like a clown and dies soon after from a knife in his back.
Bummer.
Bond starts this one off by pretending to be a Spanish General then blowing up some bad guys.
So far, so good.
After this, we are introduced to a bunch of Russians, one of which is crazy. That’s General Orloff. Whoever played this guy did a pretty good job.
They try to introduce some political stuff into this movie but don’t do a very good job and end up relying on a “there’s a bomb” plot instead.
But before the bomb, there is the egg. 009 stumbled into a party carrying a Faberge egg.
There is a silly little bit about switching the real egg for the fake at an auction where we see the most effete Bond villain ever—Kamal Khan (although he is also very polite and a great host…he throws a dinner party for Bond complete with stuffed sheep’s head…hm.).
Bond follows the hot, eggy action to India and runs into Kamal again at a game of high stakes backgammon where he uses Kamal’s loaded dice against him.
Biotch!! You been DICED!!!
We also meet Kamal’s right hand man, who was the model for the character Great Tiger from Nintendo’s Mike Tyson’s Punch Out, minus the flying around in circles thing.
And, for some reason, whenever he is mentioned or referred to or shown on screen, the director chose to ZOOMINQUICKLY to Great Tiger’s face. The effect is pure hilarity.
After burning Kamal for millions of rupees (totaling $40 US) he sets Great Tiger after him on a magical chase through the crowded streets of India.
Incidentally, they did a great job shooing away the starving homeless and filling the streets with extras, fire breathers, sword swallowers (Bond removes the sword in order to engage a baddie), nail bed people (Bond tosses a guy onto it) and hot coal walkers. You can taste the realism. It tastes like curry and kerosene.
After the chase, Bond puts some moves on this hot chick who turns out to be a Kamal supporter and, after the scrumping, Bond notices a tattoo of a blue and yellow octopus on her lower back. When he asks her what it is she says, “Oh, that’s my little octopussy.”
Bond refrains from commenting, as shall I.
She escapes with the real egg into which Bond has cleverly installed a microphone.
Bond is then held captive sort of and sneaks around Kamal’s Purple Palace where he discovers a cooler full of bodies, which he hides in.
He is then aided in his escape by some helpful body chuckers who zip him up into a big canvas body bag. Right as he is about to be thrown off a body dumping cliff, he plays the zombie card and scares away the guards.
He is then chased by Kamal on an elephant.
In the next two minutes, Bond runs into a spider, a tiger (which he orders to sit and which obeys), a bunch of leeches, a snake (which he orders to “hiss off” and which does) and an alligator.
India is, by far, the most dangerous place Bond has ever been.
Just when you think he is nipped by the opposition, he swings from vine to vine (accompanied, naturally, by the Tarzan “I’m swinging from vine to vine” sound effect) and swims to a tour boat.
Style points xmax.
Soon after all this kerfluffle, Bond discovers that Kamal is working with a mysterious woman smuggler named Octopussy who runs an island restricted to all but women.
Attractive women.
Scantily clad, attractive women.
Scantily clad, attractive women with large bosoms.
Bond’s reaction to this information is brilliant:
“An island full of only women? Why that’s sexual discrimination.”
Bam. Fuck him ladies, he looks just like my grandpa…who is dead.
When he gets there he finds out that Octopussy (which by the way is her father’s pet name for her…that’s healthy) is in debt to him for killing her father. This was good for her for some reason.
Then Kamal comes in and Bond is all like “I’m going to have sex with Octopussy” and he’s like “I heart the ky-yock” and Bond is like, “Well, duh.”
Then Kamal, who is heartbroken over the fact that Bond is strictly AC, goes to a creepy fucking one-eyed Hindi fucker who chuckles a lot and gets some crazy saw blade yo-yo psycho to go after Bond.
Bond kisses an angry Octopussy and then has sex with his Octopenis.
Honestly, if anyone but Bond kissed that many angry, crying women, he’d be arrested as a rapist. I guess it’s the accent.
Anyway, post-coitus, Yo-Yo Death takes out Bond’s side kick who was fun and a tennis pro. Bond gets stony faced and says let’s fuck up these dragon farts.
The Yo-Yo Death people invade the Isle of Vage and one of the baddies gets killed by a poison octopus.
A Rock Octopus.
Most of the rest get fucked up by Bond who slides down a marble banister with an AK-47 shooting off the newel post before it turns him into a double O eunuch.
After this impressive shoot out, it’s off to the circus.
The Big Bad Guy is planning to not only double cross Octopussy but also detonate a nuclear device on German soil that will cause some crazy Russian reaction that benefits the aforementioned General Orloff.
Bond has an awesome train-top fight with a knife thrower and Great Tiger after hiding in a gorilla costume. Bond gets tossed off the train with the knife thrower and is then chased through the woods by the same knife thrower that killed 009.
Is 007 doomed to the same fate or do we smell vengeance?
No. Bond gets killed by the knife thrower and the movie ends.
Or does he/it?
Of course Bond kills the knife thrower (with his own knife even) and avenges 009.
Then Bond hitchhikes to the circus with some jolly Germans. He then sneaks in and becomes a Killer Klown from the British Secret Service who, in just the nick of time, diffuses the bomb.
What’s left but to take out the Big Bad Guy at his hideout?
Nothing.
So, Octopussy and her Circus of Twizzies (with the help of Bond and Q—who arrives in a huge Union Jack hot air balloon) use their circus ninja skills to break into and takeover Kamal’s castle.
An interesting note: the invasion starts at night (and this is one of the first night shoots that takes place AT NIGHT in the Bond franchise) and ends about twenty minutes later…in broad daylight.
Uh…continuity…hellooo?
The castle and all the baddies inside are dispatched but the Big Bad Guy and Great Tiger escape with Octopussy (although it would have been much easier to just kill her because a.) it would have lightened their load and b.) it would have upset Bond and made him emotional and sloppy but NOOOO) in an airplane that Bond jumps onto.
Then Great Tiger and Bond have a flight on top of the plane which Great Tiger loses.
Bond then disables the plane, rescues the girl and Kamal goes down (snicker) in flames.
Bond gets pretty banged up in the landing and later we see him on a galley in traction with his arm and leg in a cast, but with one suggestive remark, he snaps his proverbial chains and proceeds to tickle Octopussy’s tentacles once again.
Not even broken bones can stop his sex.
Quintuplepussy:
2 (the egg stealing tattoo lady and Maud “Octopussy” Adams*
*It’s about time I brought this up…
In several Bond movies (six, to be exact) the same actor has been brought back to play a different character. Now, at age 25, it is obvious that they are the same actor playing different parts, but when I was a child, I was a bit boggled, especially in one case.
The first occurrence is between “You Only Live Twice” and “Diamonds Are Forever” where Charles Gray (the narrator from “Rocky Horror Picture Show”) plays an ally of Bond (named, coincidentally enough as you read the summary of “The Living Daylights”, Whitaker) who gets knifed in the back and dies (YOLT) and Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Bond’s nemesis (Diamonds).
Next we see Maud Adams (AKA Cheekbone McSkeleton) as Scaramanga’s ill fated cock sock in “The Man With The Golden Gun” and then as Miss Independent Woman herself, Octopussy in…”Octopussy”.
It happens one more time in “The Living Daylights” and “GoldenEye” with actor Joe Don Baker. He is a fun character both times, in one a bad guy, in one a good guy, but I’ll mention that later.
Say good-bye to Roger Moore and Lois Maxwell.
Say hello to Nazi doctors and the eternally terrifying Grace Jones.
This is “A View To A Kill”.
This is also one of, if not THE best Bond theme and title sequence (which is offset by THE worst title drop), complete with women wearing nothing but ski parkas and Day-Glo paint.
We first see Bond as a snow bunny, swaddled in more clothes than the baby Jesus. But the baby Jesus never had to outrun Russian ski troops.
Bond recovers a microchip from the corpse of 003 and then is chased by these Russians fucks in front of a blue screen.
Bond first loses a ski and manages on one for a while, but after he decides that isn’t impressive enough, uses the rigging from a snowmobile as a snowboard…set to the Beach Boys’ “California Girls”.
It is one of the best moments in a Bond movie.
He then carries out a Jesus-esque “snowboard across water” feat before firing a smoke bomb into the opposition’s helicopter, causing it to crash into a mountainside.
Having accomplished his mission, it is now time for sex. Five days worth of sex with his slutty blonde contact he meets up with at the water’s edge.
Give it to her once for me, James.
Then Duran Duran lead us into the future with synthesizers and keyboard riffs.
And, folks, the future, despite what Prince says, rocks.
Now, at this point (and probably at several points throughout) I am going to mention the fact that Moore is 57 years old in this movie.
In the new M’s office (we last saw the old M in Moonraker. He left the series in protest of Shirley Bassey’s shitty theme song) we find out that the microchip Bond recovered is special because it is impervious to electromagnetic pulses, rendering a nuclear explosion harmless (aside from the huge wave of destruction). Here is an interesting thing: the plot of “GoldenEye” centers around a nuclear device installed in a satellite that, when detonated over the Earth, will cause all electrical equipment to shut down because of the EMP. The villain plans to do this over London, thus destroying the global economy.
The issue I bring up is this: if they have these microchips in hand in 1985, why not use them so in 1995, this villain’s plan will be less destructive?
Think about it.
Anyway, the guy making the microchips is none other that crazy American industrialist…Max Zorin.
Zorin is played by a man that needs no introduction.
Bond goes to Paris to meet up with a private detective who is privately investigating Zorin. They meet at a restaurant in the Eiffel Tower where, after contributing absofuckinglutely NOTHING to the movie, the PI (who must have had a terrible accent because all his lines were dubbed over badly) is killed by a butterfly ninja who turns out to be Zorin’s right hand psycho, May Day (played far too convincingly by manly man Grace “Who and Why Did People Find Her Attractive?” Jones). After he chases her upward for a bit, she jumps off and a parachute (black and yellow…the colors of SPECTRE) bursts open, foiling Bond.
Or does it?
He somehow manages to climb down the tower and steal a cab from a French taxi driver who is sitting behind the wheel and drinking a glass of wine.
Tres realistic.
He chases the parachute through Paris, tearing off the roof and back half of the cab in the process (it truly is a great chase scene).
She lands on a wedding boat (where a French jazz band is playing a French jazz rendition of the theme song) and, just as Bond arrives, crashing through the roof and spoiling these poor French people’s wedding, escapes in a speedboat driven by Zorin.
Here’s a question: usually the Big Bad Guy has layers and layers of lackeys to do his job, why the fuck would he straight up expose himself within the first half hour of the movie?
Because he is a psycho, that’s why.
I mean it, he is an experimental superhuman created by a Nazi doctor after WW2.
By the by, Walken had to do very little research for this part.
After all this shit, Bond is sent to investigate Zorin and his affairs and he gets an invitation to Zorin’s horse show as James St. John Smith (last word pronounced in the obnoxious British fashion as to rhyme with the farming implement that Death wields) accompanied by Sir Godfrey Tibbit, who is going undercover with Bond as his valet.
The interaction between Bond and Tibbit are great and you really come to enjoy his character.
Bond meets some ditzy chick at the house party who is doing something mysterious with Zorin (and, trying to start a conversation with her, says in the cutest way imaginable, “I’m English!”) and the aforementioned crazy Nazi doctor. He snaps a few pictures of the key players with his trusty camera ring (awesome gadget) and then teases Zorin with the old “I know your minion killed that badly dubbed Frenchman with a ninja butterfly thing at the Eiffel Tower” tactic. Zorin is abashed and around that time decides to have him watched if not killed.
After this flagrant display of blowing-his-cover-ness, May Day tells Zorin that “that man looks so familiar”.
Hang on.
He shot at you. He chased you around Paris in half a car. He caused you to jump off the goddamn Eiffel Tower! How many times in a week does this happen for you to not recognize him?!
In the evening, Tibbit and Bond go sleuthing and find a secret lab (crazy fucking Nazis and their crazy fucking secret labs) where they find out that Zorin has been using the EMP-proof chips to cheat at horse racing.
Ooooh, look at the Big Bad Guy, cheating at horse racing!! Watch out Blofeld, Zorin’s going to corner the world horse racing industry!!
Just kidding.
Bond and Tibbit have a rousing bout with some Zorin thugs and set the whole place on watch for them.
Zorin is practicing judo with May Day (who is sporting a nightmarishly revealing spandex leotard) and is about to have nightmarish judo sex with her until he is interrupted by the phone call that Bond is running around loose, a fact which causes Zorin to utter one of the funniest lines in the movie: “We must find him”. He says it as Christopher Walken would say it before he became the Christopher Walken that simply sells tickets by being in something. This is the Christopher Walken who still had to work for it.
And he does a great job.
Anyway, Bond evades capture by sacrificing his body…to Grace Jones.
As a result, he is made pregnant with her seed.
This is why “View” is the last Moore Bond, because Grace Jones made him pregnant and because Christopher Walken ate his soul.
The next day, Zorin is done fucking around. He invites “Mr. St. John Smith” to his office, takes his picture and identifies him as Bond.
He then challenges Bond to a horse race, during which Zorin’s horseback thugs try to kill him and fail, not knowing that Bond is (along with being a secret agent, an astronaut, a ninja and a stunt driver) an equestrian.
Mores the pity for them.
Luckily, Zorin cheats and soon Bond is subdued with poor, dead Tibbit who was aced by May Day.
Next stop, Mr. Bond…the bottom of the fucking lake.
But mere water cannot kill Bond, something that Zorin will soon learn.
And now, it’s about time to reveal to the audience what the fuck this crazy bastard is up to.
Hint: it has NOTHING to do with horses, in fact, General Gogol (who Zorin used to work for as a KGB agent) chewed out Zorin for all this…heh heh heh…horseplay and things looked grim, until May Day lifted one of the General’s men over her head…because she is a monster.
Soon after this, the people in charge of this flick decide that we, the audience, have been in the dark for long enough as far as the plot is concerned.
They decide to solve the problem by having a Big Bad Guy meeting.
We see Zorin explaining pretty much everything (with the help of an excellent little model that he calls forth from the floor with sheer force of will.
However…there is always some poor fuck who does not want to be a part of the Big Bad Guy’s plan.
Well, Max Zorin knows how to handle them.
Here’s a hint: he drops them out of a blimp.
And it is from this blimp that the worst Bond movie title drop is uttered by Grace Jones and Christopher Walken.
When the Golden Gate Bridge floats into view, May Day says: “Wow…what a view…”, then Walken says, in the only way it’s possible to say something this stupid, “…to a kill!”
Ladies and gentlemen, yet another reason this is the last Moore Bond.
Suddenly, Bond’s in San Francisco and is talking in code to a fish monger.
Then Bond is introduced to a pirate captain who is complaining about crabs.
I shit ye not.
So Bond investigates…AND ALMOST GETS SUCKED INTO AN UNDERWATER DEATH VALVE!!!
But he doesn’t; some poor Russian spy does, but that’s what you get for snooping around Zorin’s shit, man. Just leave the guy alone! He only wants to be left alone! God!
Bond sees another Russian spy escaping and chases him down. The him turns out to be a her that Bond boinked once in the past and they escape to a Chinese bath house in San Fran.
They engage in jacuzzi coitus.
Then, while Bond is washing the cundy off his gadgets, the Russian spy runs off with a tape recording of Zorin talking about his plan “Project: Main Strike” (which, I think, was an opening band for Duran Duran in ’82…) but who could ever believe the Russians are more intelligent than the British…Bond switched the tapes.
Now, Bond knows that something bad is going to happen in the next few days.
So, naturally, Bond goes to City Hall (as reporter James Stock for the London Financial Times) and just asks. While he’s there, he sees that hot, stupid ditz from Zorin’s horse party and follows her home.
He then uses a Sharper Image device which appears to have the sole purpose of breaking into people’s homes through their windows and sneaks into her place.
Her pet cat (named "Pussy") flashes down the stairs past Bond making a noise, for some strange reason, like an exploding dinosaur.
Bond introduces himself to her (as James Stock…oh the delicious pun…) at gunpoint (hers, not his) and before she can shoot him: HOME INVASION!!!!
Bond fights off the goons with a shotgun loaded with rock salt.
It is during this fight that I took note of how daintily Roger Moore kicks people.
Hard to explain: just watch this fight scene to understand better.
After the fight, Bond cooks a majestic meal for Idiot Stacey.
He can now add Master Chef to his resume (secret agent, ninja, astronaut, stunt driver and equestrian).
A bottle and a half of wine later, Bond gently puts Stacey to bed, not touching her. The tenderness of that scene is lost a moment later though, when Bond is seen crying and masturbating furiously on her pet cat…Pussy.
In the morning, Stacey and James go to City Hall to report Zorin’s badness. Stacey gets fired and Bond gets an erection.
They talk to Bond’s CIA connection and then he and she decide to break into City Hall that night and see if they can find any more info.
For some reason, they find info on Project: Main Strike in a file cabinet in City Hall.
Question: why the fuck are there plans for Zorin’s evil plot filed in City Hall?
I’m too baffled to even invent a funny answer.
As Bond and Stacey are about to achieve some goal, Zorin and May Day (and Zorin’s evil head of security) show up and things gets sticky…with bloodshed!!!
Zorin leads Bond and Stacey into Stacey’s boss’s office and then tells him to call the cops because these two people broke into City Hall to kill him.
Then her boss cocks his head and says, in the worst acting in the series perhaps, “But…that would mean…I would have to be….” And then Zorin says, “Dead!” and shoots him.
Brilliant.
Clap clap clap.
Then the shit gets wicked as Zorin traps Bond and Stacey in an elevator while tossing Molotov cocktails all over the place.
I have never seen Walken more content in a role than he is here, throwing fire bombs all around a government building.
They leave with Bond and Stacey safely dying in the elevator.
But Bond. Does. Not. Die.
He and Stacey escape only to be accused of murder by the idiot San Fran Police which spurs a massive chase scene through the city with Bond driving a stolen fire engine and then giving the wheel to Stacey while Bond (for no fucking reason at all) climbs from the front to the back of the fire engine.
Eventually, Bond and Stacey outrun half a dozen police cars in a fire truck…somehow.
Hours later, they pull up to Zorin’s abandoned mine shaft base and they discover his stupid plan…to cause a “double earthquake”…something SO rare that Zorin had to invent a name for it…that will destroy all of silicon valley, leaving him in charge of all the world’s microchip production.
The sad thing is, I don’t think this is the stupidest plot in Bond history.
Long story short, Zorin kills everybody in the mine with either a machine gun (laughing all the while he is gunning them down, earning him another Psychopath Biscuit), an explosion, a flood or his bleached blond hair.
The only survivors are Bond, May Day, Stacey and Zorin’s people (the head of security and his Nazi doctor).
May Day sees that Zorin has killed a friend of hers and changes sides.
Her and Bond lift a huge bomb from out the San Andreas Fault and May Day sacrifices herself in order to foil Zorin’s crazy plan.
In retaliation for this thwarting, Zorin swoops down in his house/blimp and grabs Stacey.
Bond just barely grabs onto a conveniently placed rope hanging from the blimp and proceeds to make escape difficult for Zorin and his crew by tying the aforementioned conveniently placed rope around a part of the Golden Gate Bridge, hindering its movement.
Making the smartest decision there is, Zorin decides to step out onto the bridge and fight Bond with a fire ax.
After a battle that redefines the “Ax Fights On Top Of The Golden Gate Bridge” genre, Zorin tumbles from the bridge, screaming as only a thwarted Christopher Walken can: loudly.
But we’re not safe yet!!!!!!!!!
That blimp still holds a Nazi doctor and a newly unemployed head of security, neither of which are very fond…of Bond.
So, making the second smartest decision there is, the crazy old Nazi opens a safe and removes a bundle of dynamite…something you should never not have on a blimp and lights it.
He then proceeds to drop it when Bond chops the guy wire, setting the blimp free and next thing you know, Bond is short two nemeses.
It’s fuck time.
“A View To The Clap”
4* (Slutty blonde contact in sub, May Day—shudder, Natasha Banikov and Stacey the Erotic Geologist)
*Since this is Moore’s last hurrah they decided to REALLY milk him. Remember that one of these women got the Bond treatment for five days straight in a submarine.
I knew there was a reason Moore looked so wrinkled.
12.18.2006
For Your Moonraker Only
12.7.06
4:47 PM
James Bond brings sound into the vacuum of space in…“Moonraker”.
Now, in most Bond movies there is a small amount of disbelief you must suspend. “Moonraker” tests just how far you are able to stretch said suspension properties.
Another title for this movie could have been “James Bond In Space”.
And speaking of the title, what the fuck is a moonraker?
For that matter, have we figured out what the fuck a thunderball is?
Goddamn it…
This one starts out with an awesome sky chase. I don’t mean helicopters or airplanes, I mean Bond getting thrown out of a plane without a parachute and being chased by the one, the only, the Captain of the Fuck You Up Brigade…Jaws.
During his time in the air, Bond “tackles” the pilot and steals his parachute but just as you think the fun is over, Jaws catches up with him.
Jaws is about to take off Bond’s ankle but they he pops his chute and Jaws plummets tens of thousands of feet to his death.
Or not.
See, in “Spy” you got a sense that Jaws was hardcore. But in “Moonraker”, you see he is actually a demigod.
The theme for this movie is probably the worst in my opinion.
Shirley Bassey has lost it, never to find it again.
Soon after the start of the film, we meet Hugo Drax who is to space what Max Stromburg was to water.
Literally.
There is no difference and the fact that they made these movies right one after the other just make the similarities stand out.
However, Drax is SO much better than Stromburg as far as personality.
Drax is so aware that he is a Bond villain that it shows through in every “death trap” he sets for Bond.
He tries to kill Bond by trapping him in a malfunctioning centrifuge, siccing an Aikido warrior on him, putting him under the rockets of a space shuttle about to launch and dropping him in a pool with a boa constrictor (which is, by the way, the only animal that maintains its original Latin name) after which he actually speaks the line “”You defy all my attempts at planning an amusing death for you.”
Excellent villain (even if he is rather long in the tooth when it comes to speeches).
When Bond first steps into the office, he tells Moneypenny (the lustful secretary who has been in every Bond movie since “From Russia With Love”), when she asks where he’s been, that someone pushed him out of an airplane.
I laughed my ass off because usually he has something clever to say but not this time.
“Someone pushed me out of an airplane.”
Brilliant!
He is then equipped with a wristwatch that fires cyanide tipped or explosive darts when one flips their wrist up and it is this device that saves Bond’s life in the haywire centrifuge. This is one of the only times a piece of Q equipment has directly saved Bond’s life.
Thanks, Q.
The watch also has a quantity of C4 and a detonator in it which Bond uses later.
A very not-fucking-around watch.
Bond then meets the fourth strong woman character in the series, a scientist and an astronaut.
Her name is Holly Goodhead.
Yea.
Strong woman, stupid name.
Bond spends some time at Drax’s huge fucking manor and sneaks into an office (after some sport fucking with a helicopter pilot who gets killed later for letting Bond into the office) where he takes pictures with his little spy camera.
The camera would be cool except for the “007” emblazoned it.
Way to be secret, Agent We-Found-Your-Camera.
At this point, I would like to take a moment to say that Sean Connery is SO much better dressed than Roger Moore it is funny.
It’s not, it’s actually rather pathetic.
Bond leads some goons on a boat chase through the canals of Venice with a Q-ed up gondola. Bond gets cornered and then flips the switch that turns the boat into a car and rolls through Venice, British Pimp style.
Big ups!!
Soon after that, he finds the secret lab where two scientists are moving these strange pods about.
Bond finds a vial of concentrated death and accidentally kills the scientists. He has no problem with this.
Nor does he have a problem with hurling the aforementioned Aikido warrior through a stained glass window and into a piano.
Then it’s sex with Goodhead and off to Rio for a romp with a totally random girl before a tram chase in which Bond and Goodhead narrowly escape while the whole fucking building collapses on Jaws who falls in love with a tiny blonde woman after dusting himself off.
Let’s go to the jungle.
Bond traces the concentrated death to a flower found in the Amazon and takes YET ANOTHER Q-ed up boat there. Somehow, Jaws finds his way into a boat behind Bond and starts firing a mortar cannon. Bond escapes by turning his boat into a hang glider this time and Jaws falls to his death yet again…or fucking does he?
No.
He picks up Bond by his face from the snake pool and marches him into the Big Bad Guy’s jungle launch pad.
Yes, jungle launch pad.
Next thing you know, everyone, including Bond is in space.
Add the Astronaut merit badge to Bond’s vest.
What’s next you ask?
Why a laser space battle between the U.S. Army’s 35th Spaceborne Division and Drax’s perfect humans.
Bond blows Drax out into space with a cyanide dart in his gut, which seems like overkill.
Jaws changes sides for his girlfriend and helps Bond and Dr. Excellentblowjob escape so they can shoot down the Death Pods flying towards our planet.
Bond and Goodhead succeed in blowing up the Evil while Jaws and his girlfriend crash into Earth in Drax’s space station…and survive completely unscathed.
See? Demigod.
Or maybe he’s just immune to falling from heights.
Anyway, at the end, the brass is trying to find Bond and suddenly the video feed pops up with Bond and Goodhead involved in some zero g fucking.
Rock on.
When M asks the general assembly what he’s doing, Q answers in earnest, “I think he’s attempting reentry.”
Rimshot!!
“Liceraker”:
3 (helicopter pilot who is later fed to dogs because of Bond, random cum dumpster Bond meets in Rio who serves very little purpose in this movie aside from receiving Herpes, Bond Herpes, and the good doctor Goodhead)
Hot, Greek archers abound in “For Your Eyes Only”.
This is it people. The end of Ernst Stavro Blofeld.
We open on Bond in a cemetery, placing flowers on the grave of his late wife, Tracy.
He receives an urgent message that a helicopter has been sent to pick him up.
And everything is fine until we see a man in a wheelchair (apparently Bond crippled Blofeld in that mini sub swinging event back at the end of “Diamonds”) hit a button and electrocute the helicopter pilot!
Blofeld is controlling the helicopter via a remote and watches as Bond climbs out of the back, crawls around to the front and drops the dead pilot out of the chopper taunting “Mr. Bond, have you no respect for the dead?”
Ouch.
So Bond, right before Blofeld plants the chopper into the side of a building, wrests control back and spears Blofeld’s chair on the end of the landing gear and drops him down a chimney, ending (at least in the subsequent Bond movies) his life.
Fina-fucking-ly.
The question is, what do you do after you vanquish your archnemesis?
The answer: you make a sub-par Bond film.
I have to say that this movie didn’t really hold my attention.
There were good points (like the very first night scene shot at night in the franchise!!!), but overall, watching this Bond movie was the only time (thus far) I have felt that I was completing a task.
But here we go.
We meet a new M (since the old one died between “Moonraker” and “Eyes”) and he is sub-par as well. Doesn’t have the same disdainful respect for Bond that the original M did. We learn that some piece of equipment has been stolen from the wreckage of a ship and both the Russians and the British want it.
Somehow, Bond’s mission gets tied up with a revenge mission some hot Greek chick is on.
Someone killed her family and her and her arrows are going to find out why.
Her and Bond both arrive in Cuba, but she kills this dude with an arrow which leads to a VW Bug chase because some henchmen broke into Bond’s amazing 80’s car (which went well with the amazing 80’s music in this movie. Jesus God did it ever.) causing it to explode.
Please stand back, this car is protected by fucking flaming death.
The two follow the trail of some crazy assassin who looks like a squishy Tim Robbins (who Bond identifies by using a ridiculously outdated “Identograph” that Q devised. Imagine recreating a human face with a MAC from 1983) here and there and meet some asshole who happens to be the sponsor of a tasty piece of American Olympic ice skating jail bait who wants Bond to do figure eights on her clitoris the instant she lays eyes on him.
She later sneaks into his room and says, “I will do anything for you”.
At this point, she is like 17 and Bond is like 55 so he says the words “Get dressed” for the first time in the series and buys her a soda.
It appears that her sponsor is trying to help Bond but TWISTY TWIST TWIST!!!!! he is really the Big Bad Guy! FUCK!
So Bond teams up with the Big Bad Guy's Big Bad Guy, this sexy Greek man who is constantly eating pistachios.
I don’t like pistachios.
By the way, this Greek guy knows Bond so well…he lures him to a meeting by offering him a woman.
Bond is assaulted by motorcycle thugs, a German Olympic ski assassin (who happens to be great at the biathlon…which is ridiculous. Skiing and firing a rifle? What the fuck? The ancient Greeks DID NOT do that, naked and covered in grease or otherwise. Still better than curling I suppose.) and the New York Rangers, and he dispatches all of them.
He and the girl also survive a keelhauling with adequate aplomb.
Thanks to a helpful parrot, Bond, the Greek girl and Pistachio Man find out that all their missions are intertwined and decide they must storm a mountain base.
Rad.
We see Bond painstakingly climb a sheer face of rock until some thugs knocks out his pitons and he is forced to get Ninja on them dropping them to their gaijin dog deaths.
They storm the mountain base successfully and Bond obtains the A.L.T.A.K. right before the Russian General shows up to claim it and then destroys in right in front of him.
“Detent, General” Bond says with a smirk.
After this, we see that the sexy Greek man will be making gyros out of the ice skaters anus and the Greek girl wins second or third place for “Worse Use of the Title of A Bond Movie in the Movie” award by dropping her clothes to the floor and saying, “For your eyes only, James…”
Like we’re supposed to believe she’s a virgin.
Yeah right, and Greek men are all hairless and clean.
“Blood Test Results For Your Eyes Only”
2 (the bait Mr. Sexy Greek gives to James and Arrow Girl)
4:47 PM
James Bond brings sound into the vacuum of space in…“Moonraker”.
Now, in most Bond movies there is a small amount of disbelief you must suspend. “Moonraker” tests just how far you are able to stretch said suspension properties.
Another title for this movie could have been “James Bond In Space”.
And speaking of the title, what the fuck is a moonraker?
For that matter, have we figured out what the fuck a thunderball is?
Goddamn it…
This one starts out with an awesome sky chase. I don’t mean helicopters or airplanes, I mean Bond getting thrown out of a plane without a parachute and being chased by the one, the only, the Captain of the Fuck You Up Brigade…Jaws.
During his time in the air, Bond “tackles” the pilot and steals his parachute but just as you think the fun is over, Jaws catches up with him.
Jaws is about to take off Bond’s ankle but they he pops his chute and Jaws plummets tens of thousands of feet to his death.
Or not.
See, in “Spy” you got a sense that Jaws was hardcore. But in “Moonraker”, you see he is actually a demigod.
The theme for this movie is probably the worst in my opinion.
Shirley Bassey has lost it, never to find it again.
Soon after the start of the film, we meet Hugo Drax who is to space what Max Stromburg was to water.
Literally.
There is no difference and the fact that they made these movies right one after the other just make the similarities stand out.
However, Drax is SO much better than Stromburg as far as personality.
Drax is so aware that he is a Bond villain that it shows through in every “death trap” he sets for Bond.
He tries to kill Bond by trapping him in a malfunctioning centrifuge, siccing an Aikido warrior on him, putting him under the rockets of a space shuttle about to launch and dropping him in a pool with a boa constrictor (which is, by the way, the only animal that maintains its original Latin name) after which he actually speaks the line “”You defy all my attempts at planning an amusing death for you.”
Excellent villain (even if he is rather long in the tooth when it comes to speeches).
When Bond first steps into the office, he tells Moneypenny (the lustful secretary who has been in every Bond movie since “From Russia With Love”), when she asks where he’s been, that someone pushed him out of an airplane.
I laughed my ass off because usually he has something clever to say but not this time.
“Someone pushed me out of an airplane.”
Brilliant!
He is then equipped with a wristwatch that fires cyanide tipped or explosive darts when one flips their wrist up and it is this device that saves Bond’s life in the haywire centrifuge. This is one of the only times a piece of Q equipment has directly saved Bond’s life.
Thanks, Q.
The watch also has a quantity of C4 and a detonator in it which Bond uses later.
A very not-fucking-around watch.
Bond then meets the fourth strong woman character in the series, a scientist and an astronaut.
Her name is Holly Goodhead.
Yea.
Strong woman, stupid name.
Bond spends some time at Drax’s huge fucking manor and sneaks into an office (after some sport fucking with a helicopter pilot who gets killed later for letting Bond into the office) where he takes pictures with his little spy camera.
The camera would be cool except for the “007” emblazoned it.
Way to be secret, Agent We-Found-Your-Camera.
At this point, I would like to take a moment to say that Sean Connery is SO much better dressed than Roger Moore it is funny.
It’s not, it’s actually rather pathetic.
Bond leads some goons on a boat chase through the canals of Venice with a Q-ed up gondola. Bond gets cornered and then flips the switch that turns the boat into a car and rolls through Venice, British Pimp style.
Big ups!!
Soon after that, he finds the secret lab where two scientists are moving these strange pods about.
Bond finds a vial of concentrated death and accidentally kills the scientists. He has no problem with this.
Nor does he have a problem with hurling the aforementioned Aikido warrior through a stained glass window and into a piano.
Then it’s sex with Goodhead and off to Rio for a romp with a totally random girl before a tram chase in which Bond and Goodhead narrowly escape while the whole fucking building collapses on Jaws who falls in love with a tiny blonde woman after dusting himself off.
Let’s go to the jungle.
Bond traces the concentrated death to a flower found in the Amazon and takes YET ANOTHER Q-ed up boat there. Somehow, Jaws finds his way into a boat behind Bond and starts firing a mortar cannon. Bond escapes by turning his boat into a hang glider this time and Jaws falls to his death yet again…or fucking does he?
No.
He picks up Bond by his face from the snake pool and marches him into the Big Bad Guy’s jungle launch pad.
Yes, jungle launch pad.
Next thing you know, everyone, including Bond is in space.
Add the Astronaut merit badge to Bond’s vest.
What’s next you ask?
Why a laser space battle between the U.S. Army’s 35th Spaceborne Division and Drax’s perfect humans.
Bond blows Drax out into space with a cyanide dart in his gut, which seems like overkill.
Jaws changes sides for his girlfriend and helps Bond and Dr. Excellentblowjob escape so they can shoot down the Death Pods flying towards our planet.
Bond and Goodhead succeed in blowing up the Evil while Jaws and his girlfriend crash into Earth in Drax’s space station…and survive completely unscathed.
See? Demigod.
Or maybe he’s just immune to falling from heights.
Anyway, at the end, the brass is trying to find Bond and suddenly the video feed pops up with Bond and Goodhead involved in some zero g fucking.
Rock on.
When M asks the general assembly what he’s doing, Q answers in earnest, “I think he’s attempting reentry.”
Rimshot!!
“Liceraker”:
3 (helicopter pilot who is later fed to dogs because of Bond, random cum dumpster Bond meets in Rio who serves very little purpose in this movie aside from receiving Herpes, Bond Herpes, and the good doctor Goodhead)
Hot, Greek archers abound in “For Your Eyes Only”.
This is it people. The end of Ernst Stavro Blofeld.
We open on Bond in a cemetery, placing flowers on the grave of his late wife, Tracy.
He receives an urgent message that a helicopter has been sent to pick him up.
And everything is fine until we see a man in a wheelchair (apparently Bond crippled Blofeld in that mini sub swinging event back at the end of “Diamonds”) hit a button and electrocute the helicopter pilot!
Blofeld is controlling the helicopter via a remote and watches as Bond climbs out of the back, crawls around to the front and drops the dead pilot out of the chopper taunting “Mr. Bond, have you no respect for the dead?”
Ouch.
So Bond, right before Blofeld plants the chopper into the side of a building, wrests control back and spears Blofeld’s chair on the end of the landing gear and drops him down a chimney, ending (at least in the subsequent Bond movies) his life.
Fina-fucking-ly.
The question is, what do you do after you vanquish your archnemesis?
The answer: you make a sub-par Bond film.
I have to say that this movie didn’t really hold my attention.
There were good points (like the very first night scene shot at night in the franchise!!!), but overall, watching this Bond movie was the only time (thus far) I have felt that I was completing a task.
But here we go.
We meet a new M (since the old one died between “Moonraker” and “Eyes”) and he is sub-par as well. Doesn’t have the same disdainful respect for Bond that the original M did. We learn that some piece of equipment has been stolen from the wreckage of a ship and both the Russians and the British want it.
Somehow, Bond’s mission gets tied up with a revenge mission some hot Greek chick is on.
Someone killed her family and her and her arrows are going to find out why.
Her and Bond both arrive in Cuba, but she kills this dude with an arrow which leads to a VW Bug chase because some henchmen broke into Bond’s amazing 80’s car (which went well with the amazing 80’s music in this movie. Jesus God did it ever.) causing it to explode.
Please stand back, this car is protected by fucking flaming death.
The two follow the trail of some crazy assassin who looks like a squishy Tim Robbins (who Bond identifies by using a ridiculously outdated “Identograph” that Q devised. Imagine recreating a human face with a MAC from 1983) here and there and meet some asshole who happens to be the sponsor of a tasty piece of American Olympic ice skating jail bait who wants Bond to do figure eights on her clitoris the instant she lays eyes on him.
She later sneaks into his room and says, “I will do anything for you”.
At this point, she is like 17 and Bond is like 55 so he says the words “Get dressed” for the first time in the series and buys her a soda.
It appears that her sponsor is trying to help Bond but TWISTY TWIST TWIST!!!!! he is really the Big Bad Guy! FUCK!
So Bond teams up with the Big Bad Guy's Big Bad Guy, this sexy Greek man who is constantly eating pistachios.
I don’t like pistachios.
By the way, this Greek guy knows Bond so well…he lures him to a meeting by offering him a woman.
Bond is assaulted by motorcycle thugs, a German Olympic ski assassin (who happens to be great at the biathlon…which is ridiculous. Skiing and firing a rifle? What the fuck? The ancient Greeks DID NOT do that, naked and covered in grease or otherwise. Still better than curling I suppose.) and the New York Rangers, and he dispatches all of them.
He and the girl also survive a keelhauling with adequate aplomb.
Thanks to a helpful parrot, Bond, the Greek girl and Pistachio Man find out that all their missions are intertwined and decide they must storm a mountain base.
Rad.
We see Bond painstakingly climb a sheer face of rock until some thugs knocks out his pitons and he is forced to get Ninja on them dropping them to their gaijin dog deaths.
They storm the mountain base successfully and Bond obtains the A.L.T.A.K. right before the Russian General shows up to claim it and then destroys in right in front of him.
“Detent, General” Bond says with a smirk.
After this, we see that the sexy Greek man will be making gyros out of the ice skaters anus and the Greek girl wins second or third place for “Worse Use of the Title of A Bond Movie in the Movie” award by dropping her clothes to the floor and saying, “For your eyes only, James…”
Like we’re supposed to believe she’s a virgin.
Yeah right, and Greek men are all hairless and clean.
“Blood Test Results For Your Eyes Only”
2 (the bait Mr. Sexy Greek gives to James and Arrow Girl)
12.08.2006
The Spy Who Loved Gun
12.06.06
4:46 PM
Sticking with the supernatural feel of “Live and Let Die”, Bond next takes on Dracula…in a track suit aka Francisco Scaramanga, “The Man With The Golden Gun”.
However, Bond has just smitten the God of Death Himself, how could anyone top that with just Dracula?
I’ll tell you how: with a motherfucking midget, that’s how.
That’s right, Christopher Lee is a top shelf assassin who charges one million dollars a hit…and he’s been teamed up with Herve Villechaize from Fantasy Island and Forbidden Zone.
This is probably one of the best Bond themes, not just because it’s super awesome, but because it fits so well into the different scenes of the movie.
Let me clarify, in a lot of Bond movies, the theme will be reinterpreted with various orchestration. The “Man” theme adapted for a chase scene is excellent. It gives a lot of dynamism while the slinky version used in the boner scenes makes you even harder.
Anyway, it appears that Bond is being tracked by this bloodsucking Spawn of Satan and so he decides to hunt him down and kill him first.
Bond goes to see the last person who was with 002 who was reportedly killed by Saruman. This turns out to be a belly dancer of sorts.
After the show, Bond goes in to “meet” her. And by “meet” I mean “suck the golden bullet that killed 002 that the dancer dug from of the wall and put in her belly button as a good luck charm out of her belly button”. Just as he accomplishes this, three totally random guys burst in and proceed to beat the shit out of Bond.
We saw them watching him watching the girl earlier but other than that, no fucking reason these assholes are tooling up on Bond.
Always kind of bothered me.
Q gets a nice dig at Bond when Bond is clueless about some ammunition maker. It’s good to see him win one now and again.
Bond follows this dude to some casino where there is a wild, two-floor betting game involving baskets. I have NO fucking clue what it is, but if it’s anything like the complicated looking card games Bond is used to, it is as simple as having a higher number card than the person on the floor above you.
Bond follows the bullets to Maud Adams who serves as Goldie’s glad rag.
Allow me elucidate…in the theme song (done SO well by Lulu) she sings the line “love is required/whenever he’s hired/he comes just before the kill”.
This means EXACTLY what it says.
So, right before he is to kill someone, he bones Maud Adams, who has cheekbones enough for China.
After the sex, he gets kind of Dracula and starts staring at her and thrusting his gun in her face and it is VERY creepy.
We then see the Bottoms Up club…a Hong Kong titty bar.
Where are Bill Murray’s politely confused countenance and Scarlett Johansen’s gorgeous ass listening to Peaches when you need them?
Outside the titty bar, some dude gets blasted and Bond gets arrested…or does he?
No, he doesn’t.
He gets taken to the wreckage of the Queen Mary Elizabeth…which is actually a hidden base for M and his friends.
Once there, he ups the stakes by telling Q to make him a third nipple.
Why?
Because he is James Bond, secret agent 007 and he wants a fucking third nipple.
And because although no one has ever seen Scaramanga it is known, for some strange reason, that he has a superfluous (thank God) third nipple.
Bond nipples his way into this Chinese industrialist’s home where he meets a naked Chinese girl named (phonetically) Chew Me and tricks the aforementioned Chinese dude (who is in cahoots with the real Scaramanga and ends up tricking Bond) into inviting him for dinner only to be ambushed when he returns to the dude’s place for dinner by two Sumo wrestlers. Bond gives one of them a hyper wedgie and is then knocked unconscious by the midget, Nick Nack.
Then things get awesome.
Bond awakens and finds himself surrounded by hot Chinese dumplings covering him with washcloths and bringing him tea. He thinks he is in heaven…but he is actually in Hell…Karate Hell.
After a moment, the room fills with many severe looking Asian dudes, two of whom spar with swords to the death. Then some harsh badger of a man comes out and kicks air for a bit. Then, Bond must school him and does so by kicking him in the face. Tally ho!
However, that guy was just the soup and salad, this next guy is steak, baby. Ninja Gaiden and Thomas from Kung Fu times hardcore.
Bond karates around a bit then punches this motherfucker in the head and dives out the fucking window only to be met by his contact that brought him to the Queen Mary earlier.
Him…and these two Chinese schoolgirls…
In a second, the karate school bursts open like 3D Karate Champ.
Bond, being the utter gentleman, tells the girls to step back.
They disregard his candor and the proceed to fucking rape these karate school pupils.
Turns out they themselves are Kid Ninjas.
They mop the floor of this Chinese pain restaurant but then, for some stupid reason, the guy and his Sailor Moon cadets drive off without Bond who is forced into a boat chase in a boat much thinner than those in “Live and Let Die”.
Thin boat of not, Bond dispatches the entire Karate school crew team (with the help of a little brown boy that Bond heroically throws into the filthy water).
During his victorious saunter off screen we see an old friend…the one and only Sheriff J.W. Pepper, on holiday in Asia with his equally fat and repulsive wife.
But we’ll come back to him.
Bond takes his contact, Goodnight, a sweet British tart, out to dinner and is presented with Chinese wine, Phoo Yuk. He propositions Goodnight…and she fucking turns him down.
Bam. The sound of two knees clapping…shut.
Bond is so shocked that all he can utter is…Phoo Yuk.
A moment later Bond returns to his room, probably about to masturbate for the first time in 35 years…when he hears a noise and pulls his gun.
If he can’t fuck, then by God he will kill (and probably torture in order to let off some steam).
But there is no need to kill…for it is only Goodnight wearing a scandalous nightie.
When Bond questions her about her frigid vagina a minute ago she simply responds “I’m weak”, a summary of almost every single woman character in every Bond movie.
But anyway, right as Bond is about to have a Goodnight…bam, Cheekbones LaRou busts in giving Goodnight only a fraction of a second to hide in the closet.
She lays it all on the table.
She wants him to kill Dracula. In return she will get him the Solex agitator, some little thing that Scaramanga has that will end the energy crisis.
Aside from money, she will also give Bond cheek.
Bond takes a down payment and then, after she’s left, lets Goodnight out of the closet.
She is upset.
The meeting place for the hand off is a Sumo match. Bond has all his people (the one guy and Goodnight) surround the place, but then finds that Cheek has been killed in front of everyone.
But how?! Only a master assassin could…oh, right.
Bond meets Scaramanga and he tells Bond he enjoyed meeting him very much and please stay out of my way.
Next thing we know, Goodnight is in the trunk of Scaramanga car with the Solex thingy with Bond and Sheriff Pepper chasing them in a stolen car.
Bond (ninja, secret agent) adds a new skill to his resume: stunt driver by driving from one section of broken bridge through the air onto another.
He corners Goldie at a garage and is about to make a frontal assault when the Hong Kong Police (“pointy heads” the Sheriff lovingly refers to them as) pull up and he makes his escape with the help of a flying car modification to his ride.
Very Grand Theft Auto patch.
Bond finds his way to the Island of Dracula where Goodnight has been wandering around in a bikini…just because.
Then Lee turns into the best host ever. He gives Bond a tour, he feeds him lunch and gives him champagne.
He then challenges him to a dual.
His golden gun vs. Bond’s Walther PPK.
Then things get weird…
A little background on this man avec le gun de gold.
He was raised in a circus as a trick shot.
His only friend was an elephant.
One day the trainer shot the elephant in the eye.
The elephant came to Scaramanga and stood on one leg.
Scaramanga shot the trainer.
And thus we have a total explanation for the last scene of the movie.
Bond takes his twenty paces and turns around, firing at nothing.
Sarumanga has disappeared into his hideout.
Nick Nack tells Bond how to find him and leads him into Scaramanga’s personal assassin’s fun house, complete with mirrors, wax dummies of Al Capone and confetti.
Not really, but I like confetti.
Bond looks fucked because he loses his Walther but just as things are looking grim, Bond (dressed as the wax dummy of himself that Scaramanga has in his fun house “just because”) comes to life and blows Scaramanga away.
Bond gets the solar thingy thus solving the energy crisis and sails off in a Chinese junk for some Chinese junk fucking right as the island is exploding because Goodnight threw a lecherous technician into a vat of liquid helium.
You go girl.
Right as penetration looks imminent, Nick Nack, with a knife in his teeth, drops from the ceiling of the bedroom and attacks Bond and Goodnight. He kicks Bond in the shins, hides under a table and then begins hurling bottles of wine at the two of them.
So Bond does the only reasonable thing there is to do: he locks the Midget in a suitcase and then confines him to the crow’s nest.
Game over you stubby little fuck.
At the end of the movie, we hear a different theme that actually has the words “Good night, good night. Good night/Sleep well my dear/don’t worry/James Bond is here” (or something along those lines) to the original theme tune. It’s stupid as all hell, but Lulu’s gotta sing.
The Man With The Golden Genital Warts:
2 (Maud “Miss Cheeks of Ethiopia” Adams and Goodnight)
At this point in history, Britain was more frightened of Russia than they were of Dracula so they scrapped the Return of Scaramanga with Nick Nack as Renfield and went with “The Spy Who Loved Me” (“Me” referring to James Bond, not you).
This movie has been described as “You Only Live Twice” but underwater.
And a lot of stuff, if one watched YOLT and then this back to back, might seem similar, such as the Big Bad Guy with a crazy base (underwater instead of in a hallowed out volcano), the mystery vessel that swallows other vessels (space pod in YOLT and a huge fucking boat in Spy) plus both have an all out assault on the Big Bad Guy's bases).
However, there are a few things that this one has that YOLT didn’t.
Namely, a car (first in a while) that turns into a submarine, a female, Russian James Bond and one of the most badass Bond badasses ever: Jaws.
You see a bit of it here, but this mother trucker really shines in “Moonraker”.
He is a henchman of one Max Stromburg, the crazy bastard who steals a bunch of nukes in order to wipe humans on the face of the Earth. He then plans to either repopulate the Earth or bring a chosen few on Earth down into his underwater cities.
Like I said, a crazy bastard. Cranky too.
We see him kill three people in like three minutes; first, his secretary who he drops from his elevator of death (v 2.0) into a shark pool of death (v 3.0), then the two scientists who were working with him by blowing up their helicopter.
Actually, I suppose that’s four people in three minutes if you include the helicopter pilot.
God, what an asshole.
Anyway, Jaws is sent by him to find some microfilm (not to be confused with microfiche. NEVER to be confused with microfiche) and kill anyone that has it.
A moment, if you will.
I have used microfiche in the library when I was younger, but, outside of spy movies, does microfilm even exist?
If so, where can I get some?
I want some fucking microfilm for my birthday.
Okay?
Back to the thing, Bond starts this movie off with a bang by killing a bunch of Russians and then jumping off a huge goddamn cliff to his death…or so it seems. At the last moment, he pops his chute, which is emblazoned with a Union Jack. Way to go, secret agent, they’ll never know who killed their spies now.
We see M and his Russian counterpart, General Gogol assigning their best people to the case of the stolen nukes. In the U.K., Bond, in the U.S.S.R., Agent Triple X.
Yes folks, Vin Diesel is a copycat AND a hulking bull dick.
Eventually they end up in Cairo, both trying to buy the microfilm from some scummy Egyptian.
A moment later, the Egyptian is killed by Jaws.
And how does Jaws kill someone?
By biting their fucking throat open.
That is the very DEFINITION of hardcore.
Soon, it’s Bond and XXX vs. Jaws in the Pyramids.
They drop thirty tons of sandstone on him and escape, but only after he rips their bumper off with his bare hands.
They get on a boat where Bond tries to put things in her, but she sprays him with fucking knockout gas.
Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.
Eventually they find out that Stromburg is the Big Bad Guy.
Something interesting about Stromburg and his forces…he appears in every way to be SPECTRE right down to the colors of the bad guys (yellow and black) but SPECTRE is all about ransom, not word destruction.
Anyway, after Bond visits the villain as a marine biologist, Stromburg confirms that they are, indeed, spies and sends fucking everything after them. There is a car, a motorcycle and a helicopter....above ground. After Bond uses his magic car to destroy them, he drives off a pier into the ocean…where his car becomes a submarine. He then launches a Polaris style missile at the chopper blowing it to hell and gone.
Everything seems ducky until a fucking mini sub loaded with bad guys shows up. Bond actually commits an act of underwater vehicular manslaughter. That is a new one.
At some point before the Big Battle, XXX finds out that one of the Russians Bond killed at the beginning was her lover, YYY. She vows that when the mission is over, she will kill him.
Soon after, there is a boat battle and then the U.S. fires nukes at Stromburg’s underwater sex garden…but wait, you can’t destroy it yet…XXX is in there and Bond has to save her!!
So he shows up, shoots that asshole Stromburg in the crotch five times then faces off against Jaws. Now, up to this point Jaws has been buried in sandstone, dropped off a cliff in a car and thrown out of a speeding train and he has recovered from all events unscratched. So what the fuck does Bond, WITHOUT A WEAPON, do to this massive manimal? He punches him in the teeth. The fucking dolt.
After realizing that his teeth are actually metal and not just shiny, he uses a ceiling mounted electromagnet to pick him up off the ground and then drop him into the shark pool of death…where Jaws bites a fucking shark to death.
HARDCORE!!!
He then rescues the Ruskie and they escape in an escape pod.
Now that the mission is over, Bond wants to risk fatherhood with this tasty Red babe, so he turns to get the champagne (there is ALWAYS champagne around when he needs it) and turns back to find XXX pointing a gun at him.
Just as we think something is about to happen, the writers realize there is nothing left in them and have her just change her mind, forgetting her lover, YYY, and embracing the enemy with her iron meat curtains. Mother Russia? Prepare to get plowed.
The Spy Who Loved Pussy:
2 (_______, some girl who I have forgotten and Agent XXX, better Red head than dead head)
4:46 PM
Sticking with the supernatural feel of “Live and Let Die”, Bond next takes on Dracula…in a track suit aka Francisco Scaramanga, “The Man With The Golden Gun”.
However, Bond has just smitten the God of Death Himself, how could anyone top that with just Dracula?
I’ll tell you how: with a motherfucking midget, that’s how.
That’s right, Christopher Lee is a top shelf assassin who charges one million dollars a hit…and he’s been teamed up with Herve Villechaize from Fantasy Island and Forbidden Zone.
This is probably one of the best Bond themes, not just because it’s super awesome, but because it fits so well into the different scenes of the movie.
Let me clarify, in a lot of Bond movies, the theme will be reinterpreted with various orchestration. The “Man” theme adapted for a chase scene is excellent. It gives a lot of dynamism while the slinky version used in the boner scenes makes you even harder.
Anyway, it appears that Bond is being tracked by this bloodsucking Spawn of Satan and so he decides to hunt him down and kill him first.
Bond goes to see the last person who was with 002 who was reportedly killed by Saruman. This turns out to be a belly dancer of sorts.
After the show, Bond goes in to “meet” her. And by “meet” I mean “suck the golden bullet that killed 002 that the dancer dug from of the wall and put in her belly button as a good luck charm out of her belly button”. Just as he accomplishes this, three totally random guys burst in and proceed to beat the shit out of Bond.
We saw them watching him watching the girl earlier but other than that, no fucking reason these assholes are tooling up on Bond.
Always kind of bothered me.
Q gets a nice dig at Bond when Bond is clueless about some ammunition maker. It’s good to see him win one now and again.
Bond follows this dude to some casino where there is a wild, two-floor betting game involving baskets. I have NO fucking clue what it is, but if it’s anything like the complicated looking card games Bond is used to, it is as simple as having a higher number card than the person on the floor above you.
Bond follows the bullets to Maud Adams who serves as Goldie’s glad rag.
Allow me elucidate…in the theme song (done SO well by Lulu) she sings the line “love is required/whenever he’s hired/he comes just before the kill”.
This means EXACTLY what it says.
So, right before he is to kill someone, he bones Maud Adams, who has cheekbones enough for China.
After the sex, he gets kind of Dracula and starts staring at her and thrusting his gun in her face and it is VERY creepy.
We then see the Bottoms Up club…a Hong Kong titty bar.
Where are Bill Murray’s politely confused countenance and Scarlett Johansen’s gorgeous ass listening to Peaches when you need them?
Outside the titty bar, some dude gets blasted and Bond gets arrested…or does he?
No, he doesn’t.
He gets taken to the wreckage of the Queen Mary Elizabeth…which is actually a hidden base for M and his friends.
Once there, he ups the stakes by telling Q to make him a third nipple.
Why?
Because he is James Bond, secret agent 007 and he wants a fucking third nipple.
And because although no one has ever seen Scaramanga it is known, for some strange reason, that he has a superfluous (thank God) third nipple.
Bond nipples his way into this Chinese industrialist’s home where he meets a naked Chinese girl named (phonetically) Chew Me and tricks the aforementioned Chinese dude (who is in cahoots with the real Scaramanga and ends up tricking Bond) into inviting him for dinner only to be ambushed when he returns to the dude’s place for dinner by two Sumo wrestlers. Bond gives one of them a hyper wedgie and is then knocked unconscious by the midget, Nick Nack.
Then things get awesome.
Bond awakens and finds himself surrounded by hot Chinese dumplings covering him with washcloths and bringing him tea. He thinks he is in heaven…but he is actually in Hell…Karate Hell.
After a moment, the room fills with many severe looking Asian dudes, two of whom spar with swords to the death. Then some harsh badger of a man comes out and kicks air for a bit. Then, Bond must school him and does so by kicking him in the face. Tally ho!
However, that guy was just the soup and salad, this next guy is steak, baby. Ninja Gaiden and Thomas from Kung Fu times hardcore.
Bond karates around a bit then punches this motherfucker in the head and dives out the fucking window only to be met by his contact that brought him to the Queen Mary earlier.
Him…and these two Chinese schoolgirls…
In a second, the karate school bursts open like 3D Karate Champ.
Bond, being the utter gentleman, tells the girls to step back.
They disregard his candor and the proceed to fucking rape these karate school pupils.
Turns out they themselves are Kid Ninjas.
They mop the floor of this Chinese pain restaurant but then, for some stupid reason, the guy and his Sailor Moon cadets drive off without Bond who is forced into a boat chase in a boat much thinner than those in “Live and Let Die”.
Thin boat of not, Bond dispatches the entire Karate school crew team (with the help of a little brown boy that Bond heroically throws into the filthy water).
During his victorious saunter off screen we see an old friend…the one and only Sheriff J.W. Pepper, on holiday in Asia with his equally fat and repulsive wife.
But we’ll come back to him.
Bond takes his contact, Goodnight, a sweet British tart, out to dinner and is presented with Chinese wine, Phoo Yuk. He propositions Goodnight…and she fucking turns him down.
Bam. The sound of two knees clapping…shut.
Bond is so shocked that all he can utter is…Phoo Yuk.
A moment later Bond returns to his room, probably about to masturbate for the first time in 35 years…when he hears a noise and pulls his gun.
If he can’t fuck, then by God he will kill (and probably torture in order to let off some steam).
But there is no need to kill…for it is only Goodnight wearing a scandalous nightie.
When Bond questions her about her frigid vagina a minute ago she simply responds “I’m weak”, a summary of almost every single woman character in every Bond movie.
But anyway, right as Bond is about to have a Goodnight…bam, Cheekbones LaRou busts in giving Goodnight only a fraction of a second to hide in the closet.
She lays it all on the table.
She wants him to kill Dracula. In return she will get him the Solex agitator, some little thing that Scaramanga has that will end the energy crisis.
Aside from money, she will also give Bond cheek.
Bond takes a down payment and then, after she’s left, lets Goodnight out of the closet.
She is upset.
The meeting place for the hand off is a Sumo match. Bond has all his people (the one guy and Goodnight) surround the place, but then finds that Cheek has been killed in front of everyone.
But how?! Only a master assassin could…oh, right.
Bond meets Scaramanga and he tells Bond he enjoyed meeting him very much and please stay out of my way.
Next thing we know, Goodnight is in the trunk of Scaramanga car with the Solex thingy with Bond and Sheriff Pepper chasing them in a stolen car.
Bond (ninja, secret agent) adds a new skill to his resume: stunt driver by driving from one section of broken bridge through the air onto another.
He corners Goldie at a garage and is about to make a frontal assault when the Hong Kong Police (“pointy heads” the Sheriff lovingly refers to them as) pull up and he makes his escape with the help of a flying car modification to his ride.
Very Grand Theft Auto patch.
Bond finds his way to the Island of Dracula where Goodnight has been wandering around in a bikini…just because.
Then Lee turns into the best host ever. He gives Bond a tour, he feeds him lunch and gives him champagne.
He then challenges him to a dual.
His golden gun vs. Bond’s Walther PPK.
Then things get weird…
A little background on this man avec le gun de gold.
He was raised in a circus as a trick shot.
His only friend was an elephant.
One day the trainer shot the elephant in the eye.
The elephant came to Scaramanga and stood on one leg.
Scaramanga shot the trainer.
And thus we have a total explanation for the last scene of the movie.
Bond takes his twenty paces and turns around, firing at nothing.
Sarumanga has disappeared into his hideout.
Nick Nack tells Bond how to find him and leads him into Scaramanga’s personal assassin’s fun house, complete with mirrors, wax dummies of Al Capone and confetti.
Not really, but I like confetti.
Bond looks fucked because he loses his Walther but just as things are looking grim, Bond (dressed as the wax dummy of himself that Scaramanga has in his fun house “just because”) comes to life and blows Scaramanga away.
Bond gets the solar thingy thus solving the energy crisis and sails off in a Chinese junk for some Chinese junk fucking right as the island is exploding because Goodnight threw a lecherous technician into a vat of liquid helium.
You go girl.
Right as penetration looks imminent, Nick Nack, with a knife in his teeth, drops from the ceiling of the bedroom and attacks Bond and Goodnight. He kicks Bond in the shins, hides under a table and then begins hurling bottles of wine at the two of them.
So Bond does the only reasonable thing there is to do: he locks the Midget in a suitcase and then confines him to the crow’s nest.
Game over you stubby little fuck.
At the end of the movie, we hear a different theme that actually has the words “Good night, good night. Good night/Sleep well my dear/don’t worry/James Bond is here” (or something along those lines) to the original theme tune. It’s stupid as all hell, but Lulu’s gotta sing.
The Man With The Golden Genital Warts:
2 (Maud “Miss Cheeks of Ethiopia” Adams and Goodnight)
At this point in history, Britain was more frightened of Russia than they were of Dracula so they scrapped the Return of Scaramanga with Nick Nack as Renfield and went with “The Spy Who Loved Me” (“Me” referring to James Bond, not you).
This movie has been described as “You Only Live Twice” but underwater.
And a lot of stuff, if one watched YOLT and then this back to back, might seem similar, such as the Big Bad Guy with a crazy base (underwater instead of in a hallowed out volcano), the mystery vessel that swallows other vessels (space pod in YOLT and a huge fucking boat in Spy) plus both have an all out assault on the Big Bad Guy's bases).
However, there are a few things that this one has that YOLT didn’t.
Namely, a car (first in a while) that turns into a submarine, a female, Russian James Bond and one of the most badass Bond badasses ever: Jaws.
You see a bit of it here, but this mother trucker really shines in “Moonraker”.
He is a henchman of one Max Stromburg, the crazy bastard who steals a bunch of nukes in order to wipe humans on the face of the Earth. He then plans to either repopulate the Earth or bring a chosen few on Earth down into his underwater cities.
Like I said, a crazy bastard. Cranky too.
We see him kill three people in like three minutes; first, his secretary who he drops from his elevator of death (v 2.0) into a shark pool of death (v 3.0), then the two scientists who were working with him by blowing up their helicopter.
Actually, I suppose that’s four people in three minutes if you include the helicopter pilot.
God, what an asshole.
Anyway, Jaws is sent by him to find some microfilm (not to be confused with microfiche. NEVER to be confused with microfiche) and kill anyone that has it.
A moment, if you will.
I have used microfiche in the library when I was younger, but, outside of spy movies, does microfilm even exist?
If so, where can I get some?
I want some fucking microfilm for my birthday.
Okay?
Back to the thing, Bond starts this movie off with a bang by killing a bunch of Russians and then jumping off a huge goddamn cliff to his death…or so it seems. At the last moment, he pops his chute, which is emblazoned with a Union Jack. Way to go, secret agent, they’ll never know who killed their spies now.
We see M and his Russian counterpart, General Gogol assigning their best people to the case of the stolen nukes. In the U.K., Bond, in the U.S.S.R., Agent Triple X.
Yes folks, Vin Diesel is a copycat AND a hulking bull dick.
Eventually they end up in Cairo, both trying to buy the microfilm from some scummy Egyptian.
A moment later, the Egyptian is killed by Jaws.
And how does Jaws kill someone?
By biting their fucking throat open.
That is the very DEFINITION of hardcore.
Soon, it’s Bond and XXX vs. Jaws in the Pyramids.
They drop thirty tons of sandstone on him and escape, but only after he rips their bumper off with his bare hands.
They get on a boat where Bond tries to put things in her, but she sprays him with fucking knockout gas.
Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.
Eventually they find out that Stromburg is the Big Bad Guy.
Something interesting about Stromburg and his forces…he appears in every way to be SPECTRE right down to the colors of the bad guys (yellow and black) but SPECTRE is all about ransom, not word destruction.
Anyway, after Bond visits the villain as a marine biologist, Stromburg confirms that they are, indeed, spies and sends fucking everything after them. There is a car, a motorcycle and a helicopter....above ground. After Bond uses his magic car to destroy them, he drives off a pier into the ocean…where his car becomes a submarine. He then launches a Polaris style missile at the chopper blowing it to hell and gone.
Everything seems ducky until a fucking mini sub loaded with bad guys shows up. Bond actually commits an act of underwater vehicular manslaughter. That is a new one.
At some point before the Big Battle, XXX finds out that one of the Russians Bond killed at the beginning was her lover, YYY. She vows that when the mission is over, she will kill him.
Soon after, there is a boat battle and then the U.S. fires nukes at Stromburg’s underwater sex garden…but wait, you can’t destroy it yet…XXX is in there and Bond has to save her!!
So he shows up, shoots that asshole Stromburg in the crotch five times then faces off against Jaws. Now, up to this point Jaws has been buried in sandstone, dropped off a cliff in a car and thrown out of a speeding train and he has recovered from all events unscratched. So what the fuck does Bond, WITHOUT A WEAPON, do to this massive manimal? He punches him in the teeth. The fucking dolt.
After realizing that his teeth are actually metal and not just shiny, he uses a ceiling mounted electromagnet to pick him up off the ground and then drop him into the shark pool of death…where Jaws bites a fucking shark to death.
HARDCORE!!!
He then rescues the Ruskie and they escape in an escape pod.
Now that the mission is over, Bond wants to risk fatherhood with this tasty Red babe, so he turns to get the champagne (there is ALWAYS champagne around when he needs it) and turns back to find XXX pointing a gun at him.
Just as we think something is about to happen, the writers realize there is nothing left in them and have her just change her mind, forgetting her lover, YYY, and embracing the enemy with her iron meat curtains. Mother Russia? Prepare to get plowed.
The Spy Who Loved Pussy:
2 (_______, some girl who I have forgotten and Agent XXX, better Red head than dead head)
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