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.

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)

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)

Doritos...you EAT them...

Hey pigs.
Here are links to my Doritos things.
Eat them.
Pigs.
Snack Tragedy= http://www.jumpcut.com/view?id=2428A076834B11DBBDB4266C9A2E700D
Snack Tragedy:Football= http://www.jumpcut.com/view?id=A2BF4E16832E11DB9F59266C9A2E700D
Snack Tragedy:Heart Breaker= http://www.jumpcut.com/view?id=CB0580C0833811DB8C435A856F9CC894
Snack Tragedy:Game Over= http://www.jumpcut.com/view?id=BE9A41B0834511DBA1B93EF340157CF2

Blame Doritos.com for the shitty video and audio quality.
The DVD of these is pure gold.

Live and Let Diamonds

12.5.06
7:47 PM
And as if no time has passed….
Bam, the final (official) Connery Bond…Diamonds Are Forever.
The last time was saw Bond, he was weeping over his gunned down wife. The last time we saw Blofeld he was driving away from the murder scene…with the smoking machine gun in his hands.
Therefore it’s no surprise that we first see Bond hunting down Blofeld. When he finally gets him, he buries him in a ton of mud…or does he?
Blofeld appears from the other side of the room and taunts Bond for about thirty seconds before Bond turns the tables, exhibits his ninja skills from “You Only Live Twice” with some scalpel throwing and then plunges Blofeld, headfirst, into a vat of boiling stuff.
Did I mention that Blofeld is now played by Charles Gray. The Narrator from the Rocky Horror Picture Show? Well he is.
Deal with it.
This is a cheese-fest from start to finish, but everyone is having fun, including the gay hitmen, Mr. Wint (played to the nines by Crispin Hellion Glover’s creepy fuck of a father, Bruce Glover) and Mr. Kidd.
These crazy, gay fucks use any means necessary to kill whoever they’re told to: scorpions, cake bombs, flaming skewers of meat…you name it.
Bond only has sex with a record ONE woman, (who, when she appears from her room wearing a very short, totally see-through scarf kind of thing and pretty much nothing else, he comments to “Well, that a lovely little nothing you’re almost wearing.” That line goes up there with “She is very sexyful.”) but she is so whorish that I’m going to count her as at least three.
In fact, he would have boned a casaba-breasted girl named Plenty O’Toole (“Named after your father, I assume?”) if it hadn’t have been for that scummy redhead. So, I’ll say three.
There is a genuinely frightening moment when Bond is knocked out and put into a coffin which is then put into a crematorium (the gay hitmen strike again). He is surrounded by the flames and is in serious shit until he is (obviously) saved, but it is one of the rare times we see him in mortal danger without a gadget or his wits to save him.
And it’s a scary fucking way to go.
Trust me.
It is also confirmed later that Bond is, indeed, a card carrying member of the Playboy Club.
Bond runs amok in a moon buggy through the Nevada desert and swings into Vegas (which looks awesome in the 70’s).
Q cheats at the slot machines and Blofeld dresses up like a woman.
Eventually we find out that Blofeld (who is by far the most polite villain so far) is basically using a Star Wars-esque device to blow up cites in the world unless he gets money.
In the end, we see Blofeld in his escape sub being swung around by Bond but we never see the end of Blofeld…will we ever?
Yes.
But not yet.
It’s a very fun movie made even more so by the gay hitmen, the time warping Blofeld and again by the creepy-as-all-get-out-I-cannot-describe-in-words-how-fucking-creepy-he-is Bruce Glover playing his role to the hilt.
Herpes Are Forever:
1 (Tiffany Case, the reason why this was the last Connery Bond. He contracted mega-clap from her and his brain melted)

At this point, the Bond people thought that Connery and SPECTRE were both getting a little old, so they recast Bond with one Roger Moore and pitted him against something even more terrifying that an international terrorist agency bent on taking over the world…namely black people, heroin, crocodiles, amputees, voodoo and the God of Death Himself, Baron Samadhi.
This is “Live and Let Die”.
The bottom line is Paul McCartney approves of this new Bond and so must the rest of the world. He showed his approval by creating the theme song.
In order to show that this new Bond is tough on racism, the makers of this work made sure to have plenty of images of black women on fire in the opening title scene.
And while some people might see this as a bit offensive, I saw it for what it truly was: a subtle warning for any and all black people to stay the fuck out of Britain.
The first time we see the new Bond, he is lying in post-coital bliss with some smoking hot piece of Italian twizzini. We see him in his own home for the first time.
He has a cappuccino maker.
We also see him rock a new superwatch which doubles as a powerful electromagnet and a buzzsaw. Yes. A buzzsaw.
A few high up Brits have been killed, one stabbed by a midget, one voodooed to death and the third had his mind blown at the United Nations. I still don’t get that one, but whatever, I also don’t get how Bond doesn’t have AIDS either.
On his way to the UN some fat, black guy kills his driver and sends him careening down FRD drive at rush hour. We later find out that this tubby bitch is Whisper, a pointless henchman of the New York based drug lord, Mr. Big. Not too be confused with the boss in Kung Fu, N.A.R.C. or the 80’s band that sang “Wild World”.
At one point, Bond follows the Whispery bitch up into Harlem…in the 1970’s.
Long story short, the music is FOUNKHAY!
Bond is referred to as a honky, a jive cat, a cue ball and “Jim” (not as in the abbreviated form of James but the Negro slang for “some white guy trying to follow a brother into Harlem in a taxi cab”).
He then gets rescued by a CIA agent who has a car with a lighter that is a radio. When Bond hears Felix on the radio, he turns and says, “A genuine Felix lighter.”
It is then that he becomes James Bond.
Eventually, we see him bop down to San Monique because the UN ambassador from there (Dr. Kananga) is somehow wrapped up in this.
While checking his hotel room for bugs as he always does, he pulls out what can only be described as a Morse code brush, but he either doesn’t get it or it doesn’t work because after a moment or two of fruitless clicking he puts it down and walks away.
To this day I have no idea what the fuck that thing is.
If someone can help me, please do.
Anyway, back to San Monique.
Here we meet Quarrel Jr., the son of the boat guy from “Dr.No” who gets killed by a dragon and Rosie, the inept CIA agent who ends up double crossing Bond. After some hot chocolate (always after), Bond puts a gun in her face and demands the truth. She runs off and is killed by voodoo gun statues.
Good riddance.
She was an idiot and even Bond makes reference to the fact that she was only good for one thing…an interracial facial.
Of course, Bond can’t be without twang for long, so it’s good that soon after he loses Rosie the Dick Warmer he meets Solitaire, the Big Bad Guy's tarot card dealing, future reading babe.
Bond rigs her deck of tarot cards in order to infiltrate her hymen (see she is only gifted with prognostication if she is a virgin). Once her hymen is infiltrated, all she wants is for Bond to predicked her orgasm over and over.
Ah, the virgin whore.
Then again, what do you expect? Bond is puffing on a comically large cigar for most of this movie and we all know that cigars mean you have sex with fortune tellers.
Bond ends up in New Orleans, where there are more black people.
Black people and crocodiles.
And a boat chase.
And Sheriff J. W. Pepper of the Louisiana State Police.
This man is how the British see white Americans.
The drug dealing pimps are how they view black Americans and this guy is how they view white Americans.
See, the British? They’re better than all of us.
Yeah.
Fucking crumpet pumpers.
Anyway, this guy is all scrunched up face and chewing tobacco and calling black people “boy”.
He is also fucking ridiculously hilarious.
He is the white equivalent of a minstrel show. There you are. In a nutshell.
Around this time, Bond leads the bad guys on a chase around an airfield with some old white chick in the co-pilot chair. Strange but funny.
Then it’s back to business.
Bond is sent in at night (although apparently back then when you wanted to film at night you actually filmed during the day with a blue filter over your lens. I remember back in “Dr. No” that the moon was SO bright that people were squinting…well that’s because it was the sun. And here we are about a decade later and it hasn’t improved at all) to clean house and rescue the girl…as usual.
Although for this raid, then equip him with a weird looking gun that shoots compressed air pellets and a .357 magnum.
Anyway, we see his lady friend about to be sacrificed to the God of Death when Bond fucking unloads and blows his fucking head off…literally. It turns out that the God of Death was just a statue…or was it?
From the shattered remains of this fake God of Death comes the REAL God of Death, who Bond quickly throws into a coffin filled with poisonous snakes.
It’s how he would have wanted it.
Then Bond and the deflowered tarot reader descend into the Big Bad Guy’s totally nondescript base where the villain (who is Dr. Kananga dressed as Mr. Big) ties Bond and Solitaire to a crane that lowers them into shark water. Oh, the bad guy has also cut Bond’s arm so as to attract the sharks.
Cunning.
Long story short, Bond escapes using the buzzsaw watch and opens a compressed air capsule inside the bad guy, popping him like a creepy, bowrn flesh balloon.
And after that, everything is okay, right?
WRONG! FUCKING WRONG!
Because Tee Hee, the one armed, one steel clawed motherfucker who failed at feeding Bond to the crocs is on the train with him somehow!!
Bond flips him out the window, wrenching off the steel arm (I wince every time).
He then continues to fuck Solitaire as we see, sitting on the front of the train, Baron Samadhi, the God of Death.
He is laughing.
At Bond.
But that doesn’t stop the credits.
Live and Let Die from AIDS:
3 (Tight little Italian job, Roise the Fucking Dunce and Solitaire, who deals the anal card…every time)

Glass knives!!

12.4.06
7:03 PM
The four Doritos spots are up on-line.
If you are interested, you have to do some digging, but they are worth it.
Go to www.doritos.com and click on the “Crash the Superbowl” link. From there, find the directory of videos and hunt down the “Snack Tragedy” series. There are four: Football, Heart Breaker, Game Over and just Snack Tragedy.
They are beautiful and sexy.
In honor of this momentous occasion, I have bought a new flavor of Dorito:
Blazin’ Buffalo and Ranch.
It is barely edible.
Avoid it like osmotic diarrhea.
My Christmas list ranges from DVD’s and books to high end electronics.
My iPod is killing me.
Oh. I forgot.
I got an iPod.
It’s a big fucker. From the Vincent Black Shadow Factory Team.
Due to my sloppy file keeping, it has already taken me 10 hours to have one folder for all Beck, Prince, Cake and eels songs respectively.
I fear the They Might Be Giants and Nine Inch Nails task.
Between the two bands I have about 1,500 songs.
I’m only a little OCD in reality, but things like this are where it shines.
Electronic OCD.
I’m still trying to finish all that Bond stuff.
I’m up to “A View To A Kill”.
I’m going to eat now, then type up the last three reviews I have notes on.
Live and Let Diamonds
The Spy Who Loved Gun
For Your Moonraker Only

Thumpy Lumpkins has lost his fucking mind.

11.22.06
6:59 PM
On the eighth hour of my twelve hour shift.
I dig overtime.
Started reading the latest Chuck Palahniuk novel (“Haunted”) today. So far, excellent. I am loving the format.
Reading his stuff after so long really made me realize how much I like his writing.
Aside from clothing, a small assortment of CD’s and the usual travel accoutrements, here is what I am packing for my trip home:
The other 14 Bond movies
Volume 4 of Family Guy
I am a simple man with simply needs.
I’ll be swinging by Miami on Sunday night to see Phil before my eye gouging appointment on Monday morning, but other than that, I’ll be racing Bearsy Boo back and forth around the back yard until I puke.
Also, I will be eating pie.

As if I couldn't be any creepier than I already am....

Ladies and gentlemen...The Pen.

On Her Majesty Only Twice

11.15.06
4:50 PM
In the first five minutes of “You Only Live Twice” we see an astronaut go hurtling off into the vast coldness of space, hear James Bond says the words, “Why is it that Chinese girls taste different than other girls?” and then watch as he is killed.
Stakes…you have just fucking been raised.
An alternate title for this movie might very well be: “James Bond Goes To Japan” or “James Bond and the Ninjas”.
Pesky old SPECTRE is at it again. But this time they are taking money from the Japanese to start a world war between Russia and the US. God damn they are an efficient people.
AND we finally get to see the face of SPECTRE leader…#1.
He is an ugly, ugly man.
We see the first ridiculous Big Bad Guy Hideout. In this case, the inside of a hollowed out, dormant volcano.
We also hear the head of the Japanese Secret Service say, in reference to a woman Bond has chosen as his massage girl, “She is very sexyful.”
This line had the honor of being the first thing added to the Wall O’ Stuff in my dorm senior year.
This is one of the most parodied Bond’s, lampooned by both Austin Powers and The Simpsons (“You Only Move Twice” from the epic and perfect season 8).
The theme is a great one as well. Very fitting for the movie, although they never really explain how Bond survives being folded up into a diabolical Murphy bed and hit with like 1,000 rounds from three sub machine guns.
One of the most important elements of this movie is that James Bond is now a ninja. He had a three or four day crash course and now he is one with the shadows. In fact, he even kills a man with a throwing star. It is fantastic.
In the end, #1’s cat freaks out, there is one of the coolest scenes ever in which the Ninjas storm the base and face off against the forces of SPECTRE* where they fight with guns, swords, grenades, throwing stars and sheer brawn, and the whole fucking place explodes when #1 pulls the self-destruct lever.
Excellent Bond movie.
As for the ladies…
You Only Jizz Thrice = 3 (cute Asian JSS liaison who later gets the poison that was intended for Bond, ANOTHER smoking evil Redhead who turns out to be none other that SPECTRE’s #11**, another cute Asian girl who does not get poisoned…that we know of.)

*Ladies, if you are ever with a man and he is having erectile troubles, just say the phrase “SPECTRE vs. ninjas” and if he isn’t harder than steel in an instant, he is not a real man and should be castrated.

**She was fed to piranha for failing #1. Hottest fish food I have ever seen.

Now, what could be more shocking than killing James Bond in the lead in? Replacing him with another actor of course!

“On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” ushered out the Sean Connery Bond and ushered in the George Lazenby Bond.
For one movie.
Then Connery was hastily ushered back in, in hopes that no one would remember “that Australian guy”.
And what better way to make us forget a Bond than to dress him in a kilt?
If you think I’m kidding, that’s all right. I don’t believe it either.
This guy wasn’t a terrible Bond, but he just didn’t have the face for it. It was sort of soft and forgettable, but other than that, I think he was okay.
OHMSS was when the tongue was surgically grafted to the cheek. You can tell because the first line of the movie is Q telling M the benefits of miniaturizing, then showing him Q Branch’s latest breakthrough…radioactive lint. The tongue on cheek action doesn’t end there though…
At the end of the lead in, we see a mysterious girl taken from Bond by kidnappers. After they have driven away, he turns to the camera (right at the fucking thing) and says, with a grin, “This never happened to the other fellow.”
On one hand, this could be an implication that the rank of 007 and the name of “James Bond” are just numbers, masks and that ANYONE can be Secret Agent James Bond, 007…but no, that was the late 60’s sticking its diseased fingers into the Bond franchise. Let’s go smoke some opium.
Aside from these two cheeky/tonguey moments, we see Bond resigning from MI6 and then packing a bag. He begins to remove items from his desk…first, the knife and scabbard that Honey Ryder was wearing in “Dr. No”, then the wristwatch/garrote wire that belonged to SPECTRE henchman Donald Grant in “From Russia With Love” and finally, the tiny breathing apparatus from “Thunderball”. When each item is pulled out, a snatch of the theme from that movie is played.
If that wasn’t enough, at one point, Bond is being escorted (at gunpoint) to meet who he thinks is a Big Bad Guy (but who turns out to be an ally named Count Draco) we see a midget janitor sweeping up…and whistling the “Goldfinger” theme.
Subtlety, thy name is Whistling Midget.
This movie focuses on Operation: Bedlam which is all about finding Ernst Stvro Blofeld after he escaped from the exploding volcano in “You Only Live Twice”. Bond hooks up with this Count and agrees to marry his daughter (Tracy) is exchange for info on Blofeld’s whereabouts. Romance xmax.
After a montage, her and James fall in love and Bond discovers part of Blofeld’s insidious plot. He then disguises himself as a genealogist and is taken to Blofeld’s hideout/research facility/mountain getaway. We see Blofeld is now Telly Savales, but since Bond is now George Lazenby, no one says anything.
This actually bothers me a bit: at the end of “You Only Live Twice”, Blofeld (Donald Plesance in this movie) and Bond come face to face for the first time, yet when Bond meets him in OHMSS, there is no recognition on either part.
We get to check out the first of several ski chases, complete with crazy stunts and terrible blue screen and M’s home, where we learn he is into butterflies. How British…spearing and quietly cataloguing beautiful, dead insects.
Bond finds out that Blofeld is brainwashing a bunch of International hotties to use them to spread a plague of his own invention called Virus Omega. Sounds scary but…Telly Savales. Bond and Draco drop in on Blofeld and blowfeld the shit out of his operation. All is well until the end of the movie…
The end of this movie made me cry as a child and, to this day, I have only seen it three times.
Once when I was a child, once my sophomore summer at Fordham and earlier today.
As a child, my mom would take me to Couch Potato Video on 2nd Ave. between 69th and 68th (it’s gone now, replaced by something colder and more modern) and I would, like all 7-year olds, look at every fucking movie in the place, and then rent one of the 30 or so I always rented (Labyrinth, Care Bears, some fairy tale series that used big name actors and told the original stories without the Disney glammer, Police Academy movies, Little Shop of Horrors (musical version) and others). All the Bond movies were in the same place and each one was watched so often by me that they each had an emotion attached to it. I remembered feelings rather than scenes. Every time I saw the box for OHMSS, I became sad. I’m not talking about pouty sad, I’m talking about tears welling up in my eyes sad.
What is it that so traumatized little Paul you might ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
After a prolonged luge chase (only one in the series regrettably), Blofeld appears to have been killed and Bond is married to his love, Tracy.
While driving to his honeymoon with Tracy, he pulls over to change a tire.
Suddenly, Blofeld and his heanchcow, Frauline Bunt, roll up and pull a fucking drive-by on Bond and his new wife.
Now, obviously an adult, knowing the dangers of Bond’s career, would have seen this coming, but as a wide-eyed, innocent 7-year old, I did not.
When I found out that James Bond’s new wife was dead, killed by Blofeld, I was ruined. I cried and cried despite the fact that “it was just a movie, it was just a movie” as my mother kept telling me. I felt so bad for James Bond, who was the sun and moon to a kid like me, and I was so affected by the death of his wife that I didn’t watch the movie again for about 15 years.
Upon this reflection, a greater truth becomes apparent: I don’t think I am able to say with any authority that any of these movies are good or bad. I can only talk about them and how good I think they are. As in, they are all good, but some range from good to super good to good xmax etc.
Keep that in mind, if you would.
On Her Majesty’s Swollen Bellend…
OHMSS = 3 (Tracy Draco Bond—pre-assassination, British chick who was allergic to chicken that sort of reminds me of Frenchy from “Grease”, foreign chick who was allergic to potatoes)

Thunderfinger

11.14.06
3:20 PM
I think that’s better than “Goldenball”.
Anyway.
So, I have recently consumed “Goldfinger” and “Thunderball”.
“Goldfinger” sees the introduction of a lot of crazy staples that stick with the Bond franchise for years to come.
First, the car. Gotta love the car. This one was a hot little Aston-Martin with smoke screen, oil slick, machine guns, bulletproof windows and…a goddamn ejector seat.
However, Bond thought Q was joking as well, so the creators of the series aren’t so oblivious to the fact that an ejector seat is ridiculous.
Aside from the car, Q gives Bond some homing devices. One that fits in his shoe.
This encounter is the first time you see Bond getting sassy with him. I love their dialogue. Sooooo smarmy.
Next, we have the henchman. In this case, the huge, hat throwing Korean henchman named Oddjob. The less said about him, the better, but the tradition started by him is somewhat constant throughout the rest of the series. Before Bond gets to the Big Bad Guy, he must dispatch the Weird Henchman. Move over Countless Anonymous Hired Goons, this motherfucker can throw a hat, this motherfucker has metal teeth and this motherfucker is a robot vagina. Seriously.
Then we have the ridiculous names; two is this movie alone. First there’s the Big Bad Guy: Auric Goldfinger. Wow. As if this guy didn’t exude “I like gold” enough with the last name of “Goldfinger”. Ian Fleming had to have the first name include the Latin word “aura”…which means “gold”. So, James Bond…meet Gold Goldfinger…he likes gold.
And while you’re at it…meet Pussy Galore. She is a female activist. Seriously.
Actually, she is a pilot. In fact, she is the leader of “Pussy Galore’s Flying Circus”. Now, what do you think people are more interested in…the “flying circus” or the “Pussy Galore”?
Yes.
And, although Pussy is the first really ridiculous name, Honey Ryder (from”Dr. No”) is rather silly as well.
Now, this must be made clear: even though this chick’s name is an apt description of James Bond’s favorite food, she is portrayed as a very strong female character.
Not that that makes it all that much better mind you, but you know.
In this film we also see two of the most memorable Bond moments: Bond strapped to a golden table while a laser slowly makes its way towards his balls and Bond looking sexy despite (or because of) wearing a baby blue, one piece, terrycloth chemise. Rowr.
As for the Bang-O-Meter…
Goldfinger = 2* (Jill Masterson, who was later killed for sampling the forbidden fruit that is James Bond and after her, the one, the only…Pussy Galore)
*A record low, although it is implied that he nailed this chick before the movie actually started, but that’s not what this is about. Asshole.
Next up: “Thunderball”.

First off, what the fuck is a thunderball? I’ve heard of a thunder clap and a thunder storm and even Rolling Thunder…but what the fuck is a thunderball?
According to the nearest dictionary: nothing.
That’s not true though. “Thunderball” is possibly one of the best Tom Jones songs ever. In fact, there is a rumor that after expelling the long, lusty and powerful last note of the theme song, he actually passed out. I’ll have to ask him one day.
The lead in to this movie has two more memorable Bond moments: the first is Bond beating the living shit out of a man in drag (who turns out to be SPECTRE #6) and then escaping with a goddamn jet pack.
This movie pulls it back a bit as far as gadgets and people with metal for hands. Bond is once again pitted against SPECTRE And we even get to see the full council. There appear to be about 11 members of SPECTRE, only two of which Bond has killed personally (that was Dr. No and technically, Bond didn’t kill him, the boiling radioactive water did and #6, the crossdresser whose neck Bond broke with a poker). The other three (#3, #5 and—at the end of “Thunderball”— #2) were killed by others.
In this meeting, we see that #5 has been replaced, but before everyone celebrates the full quorum, #1 fucking explodes #9 for embezzlement. Honestly, who in their right mind would steal from SPECTRE? #9 deserved what he got.
Anyway, there is a lot of maritime shit going on in this movie. The Big Bad Guy has a shark tank that Bond inevitably ends up in, a boat with an underwater hatch and a breakaway hull and the name Largo which, I think, means “lake” in Spanish or some other language.
Bond straight up calls him out as SPECTRE the first time he sees him and that was very interesting to see. Usually there is all this cat and mouse stuff until in the last half hour, SPECTRE is revealed to be the culprit and all hell and lasers break loose.
Not that there isn’t all that cat and mouse stuff in “Thunderball”. There’s plenty of that and it has made me realize that Bond villains are the best hosts ever. In four movies they have given Bond food, shelter, Pussy Galore and pussy galore.
Maybe for my 27th Birthday party I will play a Bond villain and totally lavish everyone up before killing them or something.
Just an idea.
In the end, Largo gets a harpoon in the spine. And I am okay with that. He is a douche.
This movie also marks the first naked-silhouettes-in-the-title-sequence.
Aside from a Geiger counter/watch, a pocket sized breathing apparatus, a mini flare gun, a homing device in a pill and *GASP* an underwater camera (!!!) there’s the same Aston-Marin from “Goldfinger”. He conveniently uses all of them.
Here’s a question: should Bond always use every single gadgets he gets?
On one hand, it’s a bit too deus ex machina if he is in a situation where he would be dead meat except for a very specific gadget, but on the other hand, what’s the point of giving him a case full of crazy spy shit if he never uses it?
I like the gadgets, but I like that Bond thinks of an interesting way to use them rather than following the instructions.
For instance, the grenade/pen from "Goldeneye" is a good one because you never know when you need a grenade, but some other things are for situations SO specific you are pulled out of the movie.
Almost forgot, this movie shows us Bond completely helpless for the first time. We see him as a human calling for help rather than a shiny spy robot. We don’t see a whole lot of that in the series (I don’t think), but I think they go into more stuff like that in the books. But this has nothing to do with the books, so fuck it.
And speaking of fucking it…
Thunderball = 3 (hot, little spa employee…in the steam room no less, smoking hot redhead SPECTRE chick who he says he fucked “for King and country” and that “he felt nothing”…I think I just found my wedding vows… and finally, Domino, the consort of the Big Bad Guy*…in an underwater sex (un)scene after which Bond comments “I hope we didn’t scare the fish”. Nice.)
*It always adds insult to injury when Bond fucks the Big Bad Guy’s girlfriend. Although it doubles back on Bond when the Big Bad Guy then kills the girl, although it makes a strong statement about Sloppy Seconds.
SPECTRE does not negotiate with Sloppy Seconds.

From Russia With No

11.13.06
3:22 PM
In preparation for “Casino Royale”, I am planning on watching all 20 (not including the tongue-in-cheek half-parody remake of “Thunderball” from the 80’s) original Bond movies.
I finished “Dr. No” earlier today.
Pure fucking Bond. No silly gadgets or ridiculous stunts and plenty of Scottish smarm.
Even the villain is somewhat normal. He’s just a typical half-German, half-Chinese evil genius who has metal hands.
Yawn.
It was excellent to see Bond using talcum powder and a hair from his head to determine if someone had been in his room rather than a tube of toothpaste containing nanites.
Not that there’s anything wrong with the toothpaste nanites, the laser gun/Polaroid or the wristwatch/buzz saw/electromagnet.
I love the crazy shit they come up with, but I also love the fact that Bond didn’t always have Q Branch to equip him with flying underpants and lemon-powered suspenders.
Anyway, I’m going to have an excellent week.
Why?
Tomorrow the 4th season of Family Guy comes out on DVD, the Sci-Fi thing I did should be up on YouTube, my copy of the Starwood VO is on its way, I’m expecting 6 items from Ebay and, to cap everything off, I will either be seeing the new Bond or…doing something really cool on Saturday.
Since I’ve mentioned it here and there, I’ll probably just being seeing the new Bond, but whatever, that’s a great second prize.
As a side note: anyone interested in going to Vegas with Lauren and I to see Prince on December 10th? Let me know.

5:32 PM
I just finished “From Russia With Love”. This is one of the only James Bond movies that refers to an earlier movie. Actually, aside from “Die Another Day” (the 20th film and the film franchise’s 40th anniversary) none of the other films really refer to any others, aside from a mention of Bond’s dead wife here and there. This one had a great character named Kerim Bey. He was a big political guy from Istanbul and he and Bond had some great dialogue.
In this one, we get a more in depth look at S.P.E.C.T.R.E., the organization bent on world domination. We see their hierarchy and learn that its members are numbered from highest ranked (Ernst Stavro Blofeld) on down. We also see the end of numbers 3 and 5. Poor 3 and 5…
And we see (and by “see” I mean “it’s indicated”, we don’t get penetration or anything…regrettably) James Bond’s only threesome in the series…with two gypsies. Lucking fucking Brit.
This one ups the number of gadgets, but nothing too bizarre.
There is a briefcase that has a teargas bomb that blows up in your face if you don’t open it correctly, a throwing knife, a portable sniper rifle and some gold sovereigns. There is also a little device that let’s you know if your phone is being tapped. Again, nothing too crazy.
One thing I have to point out, Bond’s one liners are usually golden cheese. In other words, they make you groan out loud, but with a smile on your face.
For instance, in “Dr. No”, Bond is being chased by a bunch of assassins in a hearse. The chase ends with the bad guys flying off a cliff and exploding. Some guy comes up and says, “Hey what was that?” or some other generic bystander line. Bond looks at him, smiles and says, “I think they were on their way to a funeral.” You can actually hear the TING as the light glints off his teeth.
There are at least three or four of these in any self-respecting Bond movie, but one I must point out was so stupid it was hilarious.
In “Russia”, Bond is being chased by a helicopter. Long story short, he shoots it down, it crashes and explodes. He looks to the girl and says, “It looks like one of their aircraft is missing.”
That’s fucking hilarious.
It’s like he said, “I shot down one of their helicopters.” Brilliant.
And now, the count:
Dr. No Means Yes = 3 (chick he beats at cards, Chinese/American chick working for the bad guys, shell collecting girl who ends up as his companion until the end of the movie)
From Russia With A Boner = 4 (same chick that he beat at cards*, two cat fighting gypsies, Russian chick who betrays her country for lots of Bond cock**)
* This is the only time you see the same girl in two movies. I guess they abandoned the idea of carrying over women when they calculated just how many he would be dealing with.
**They scrumped multiple times (at least three), but this is about the number of women, not the number of orgasms.
In 20 movies, he must have banged at least 70 women and I’m pretty sure there was no mention of protection in any of these encounters. I’d like to think that some day, all the women he’s boinked and given an STD or child to will rise up against him and get their revenge.
I’m pretty weird though.

J to the Izz Ames muhfuggin' Biz Ond.

So now it's fucking summer again?!
FUCK YOU GOD!
Also, I just checked out the new Bond movie theme, "You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell. VERY solid.
When it comes to Bond theme music you can go terribly wrong very quickly.
You can pick the wrong voice (Sheryl Crow - Tomorrow Never Dies) or the wrong lyricist (Don Black -The Man With The Golden Gun) or just completely fuck up and go with the most popular artist at the time (Madonna - Die Another Day).
The key to a good Bond theme is to have a song that can fit into your usual catalog as an artist and be accepted as a (semi) normal pop song, have that whiff of cheese that all Bond movies must, by law, contain, have some strings in there somewhere (preferably playing the "Bond Theme" or something very close to it).
I think a few have met all these criteria. They include: You Only Live Twice (covered by Coldplay and Bjork), Live and Let Die (covered by Guns N Roses), A View to A Kill, The Living Daylights, Goldeneye, The World Is Not Enough and You Know My Name.
I have an affinity for most of them since I am a HUGE Bond fan. If I ever become a zombie, putting on a Bond movie would be a good way to distract me.
Speaking of which, would anyone be up for seeing the new one the weekend it's out (the 17th)? We could make a dinner and a movie thing out of it.
I'm craving a Dallas BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich...and human brains.

Gwan.

11.06.06
7:26 PM
I’m sitting here minding my own business, reading my book (Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett) when I hear three what can only be zoologists discussing the ground speed and endurance of a cheetah. Why (you may ask) am I so sure of the vocation of these three individuals? Well that’s simple: because they all sound so ABSOLUTELY SURE of themselves. They aren’t guessing the speed of these magnificent beasts, they are asserting (in the way only a professional in the field under discussion can assert) the speed of these magnificent beasts.
Can you just imagine how slack-jawed with surprise I was when I realized that these three professors of Cheetahtology were, in reality, three security guards here at the Hospital? I don’t know if you can, folks. I don’t know if you can.
The only thing more surprising about their dichotomous occupational history is that there are actually three sides to said occupational history.
Not only are these men security guards AND Cheetahtologists, but they are also political scientists. Twelve minutes around these intellectual giants will tell you that.
I feel dwarfed by the IQs in this room. I mean, I only went to college for four years (and for ACTING! How fucking pointless/useless is THAT?!) and I don’t even remember a quarter of what I learned during my time there, but these guys didn’t even GO to college and yet they have mastered three aspects of our modern society.
Fuck, man.
Holy fucking fuck.
I’m sorry to revert to plain old vulgarity, but that’s what they teach us faggy actor types at our faux educational institutes.
Not like the security/Cheetahtology/political science institutions. That are real. Totally real.

On a topic having nothing to do with smarm: I bought another slew of vinyl again today.
Bad Paul-with-super-combustible-money!! Bad!!
I do enjoy the aesthetic of the medium though.
I love having a 12” by 12” versions of the cover art to my favorite albums.
And I’ve discovered that Beck was made for vinyl. The gentle whisper underlying each track goes so well with his voice.
Anyway, I’m learning to shop smarter for what I need, so I’m burning less money.
At least my fear that I would never use the records/record player I bought has been allayed.
I use it, and I enjoy it.
And that is what life is all about.
Enjoying.
So, please, whoever you are, enjoy life for just a moment.
Thanks.

The place to be.

11.3.06
4:31 PM
Very, very excited about tomorrow’s shoot. I just got off the phone with Ray and we have birthed yet another idea. Fucking rock.
Also, today I finished 99% of the filming for “Donation” and the titles and background have been sketched out as well. I’ll need Chris to reshoot something from before and then it will be ready for editing and authoring.
This forward momentum is like some wonderful drug…administered anally by beautiful French women.
Holy blue!!
I have had the “Green Acres” theme song in my head all day and I believe it comes from the tail end of a dream I had last night. That worries me, but only a little.
I found out about 25 minutes ago that I have Tuesday off. Something about an election. I don’t know.
So unless you want me just lying about all day, masturbating to “Green Acres”, get in touch and maybe we can do something…like watch “Green Acres”.
Within a few hours (knock four-leafed rabbit’s foot) I will have a full length, pro shot They Might Be Giants concert ready for burning.
But the best part of everything is that over the past few days I have been having a very interesting pain inside my right arm. It felt like something was trying to push its way out of a long, thin crack in my femur (that’s the upper arm bone, right?). Anyway, the best thing about all this is that the pain has ceased. That makes me feel happy. Happy and invincible, like usual.
That low thrumming noise you hear is my heart trying to vibrate its way out of my rib cage.
It’s a good feeling.

P.S. I am going to celebrate my happiness with a huge fucking burger from Burgers, Inc. (Phat Burger that was) and maybe some crazy, heart-incinerating side dish like chili.
God bless beautiful downtown Grozny.

O Menina

11.2.06
10:?? PM
Is it fucking winter yet? God damn.
Either this weekend or next weekend, Leah is coming to town for brunch. Woo! I enjoy Leah.
This weekend, I am shooting the “Snack Tragedy” portion of the Doritos commercial.
You know, one of the greatest things about having Ray as a friend is that when he and I come up with a great idea, we actually follow through with it. It goes from idea to realization in the blink of an eye when compared to a lot of ideas I have collaborated with people on. Was that terrible grammar or what? Check me out.
Now, just to elaborate: that comment about idea realization was not a shot at Phil or Will, (with whom most of the best ideas in the world are created. They are hundreds and hundreds of miles and several hours away from me and when we are all together, we are so limited as far as time that we end up just having excellent fun rather than slaving over the blast furnaces that are our collective minds. I’m sure if the three of us were allowed a much longer period than one measly weekend together that we would carry out one or several of our ideas and sink a continent or two. Or cure AIDS. Or both. Perhaps we would find a way to gather all the people with AIDS onto a continent, and then sink it. Hmmm...)
No, this is less of a negative comment towards anyone as much as it is a positive comment on how wonderful it feels to have an idea and then see the idea brought to its full potential within a set time period.
I feel like people who sit around and say, “Oh! Dude! We should TOTALLY film that!! That would be AWESOME!!!” and do nothing about it are maybe a dot above the wastrels that are potheads.
Fucking idiot potheads.
Stealing my oxygen.
Anyway, it just feels good is all.
Like me with the short films.
I am still working on the second cycle but I just can’t seem to find all the scene partners I need.
I might also need a guest cameraperson again.
But within a week or so “Donation” should be released.
I honestly don’t think it’s as good as “Taken From Me”, but then again they come from two totally different places in my mind and both were written using different methods so who knows.
Certainly you don’t.
Ball.
Had an excellent shower today.
Refreshing.
On a totally unrelated note, I watched “Transamerica” a few days ago. Very good movie. It was a lot less heavy than I thought it would be. That’s good.
I finished the second most new Gaiman book (Anansi Boys). Not American Gods by any measure, but it was pretty good. I’m going to read some Pratchett before I read Fragile Things, the new Gaiman (a collection of short stories). His short stories are some of the best I have ever read. I mark a good short story by how much I want it to continue. Gaiman scores high.

To my "friends".

10.18.06
5:10 PM
I took a short nap today and it was fucking awesome.
I went to work at 4:30 today and when I stepped outside to head over, I noticed that the weather was perfect. No, wait…Perfect. Yes, Perfect, with a capital “P”.
It was so Perfect that it brought back every memory of every Perfect day I have ever had in my life, climatically speaking.
Days in Central Park mostly, although a few in Florida popped up as well.
I smiled a six year old’s smile and dug it. Dug it xmax.
On a less Perfect note: myspace.
I have several friends. Some friends I consider closer than others. Some people started off as friends of friends and then became friends. I don’t need to explain this.
People I see on a regular basis I usually consider close friends, although there are some friends I see once or twice every few months, and yet they are closer than these friends I see on a weekly or even bi-weekly basis. Then there are the acquaintances. I consider these people the friends of my friends that I never became friends with. Are you still following my gravy train (avec biscuit wheels) of thought? There are people I hung out with who hung out with other people. It’s these other people I am talking about. I don’t hate these people, or even strongly dislike them for that matter, but I certainly don’t consider them my friends and in some cases, I don’t really know them very well at all. They are friends of my friends who never became anything more or less.
Now, in the case of NEW friends of my friends, there is still a very real possibility they might become my friends if my friends and their friends and I continue to hang out together, but in the case of the friends of my friends in college, for instance? That ship has pretty much sailed. You had four years to get to know me, to befriend me, if you will.
Now, I’m sure the smarter among you can see where this is going, but for the friends of my friends’ friends, let me break it down:
As it relates to myspace, I now have these aforementioned “other people” sending me highly coveted and seldom awarded “friend requests”.
I was just then being facetious.
I wonder if there was ever a moment, even the briefest shimmer of an instant when this meant something, ANYTHING to anyone before it became as unimportant and banal as deleting dick enlargement spam from your inbox.
I wonder if anyone out there over the age of twelve really believes that when someone sends you a “friend request” that they care about you as much as friends are supposed to.
I wonder of anyone still (or ever) gives a second thought before sending out dozens of these nonexistent, meaningless “friend requests” a day.
Don’t misunderstand, if I was someone’s acquaintance in school or at some other point in my life, sure, send me a “friend request”, but if you were a friend of my friend who knew my thought them and didn’t really hang out with me unless they were around because in reality you didn’t really like meat all, why the fuck would you send me a “friend request”? So that all the names on your friends’ “friend list” match up with yours?
Fuck that.
You don’t want to be my friend. You could have done that easily back when we were hanging out with the same people for the better part of four years (college) or six years (high school). You want the poor, bored bastards who trawl the Internet at three o’clock in the morning waiting for their Hentai to download so they can bust their greasy nut and go to sleep to see your “friend list” and fucking balk. You want them to say, “437 friends?! I don’t even KNOW that many people!” Chances are that you don’t either though.
You don’t know them, but they’re your “friends”. They leave comments and messages and blogs and they all know you and love you.
You’ve certainly met them all face to face and had long-lasting, meaningful relationships with them.
You’ve read all their journal entries, you share all their interests and you know everything there is to know about them.
In fact, you probably know them so well that you don’t even NEED to see them face to face or even talk to them on the phone! You know them so well that you can just click and clack on your keyboard and that relationship just gets stronger and more meaningful with each and every click of the mouse.
Hey, you profile picture and the song you have on your page say it all. We were meant for each other.
I fucking loathe what things like myspace have done to human relations. Myspace has actually managed to make the word “friend” mean less. That is fucking amazing.
Sure, you can now hang out with people you didn’t hang out with in high school, but what the fuck for? If you really wanted to see someone, you’d see them. If you really wanted to talk to them, you’d call them. You wouldn’t have to Google their goddamn user ID and cross reference it with their AOL screen name. And DO NOT mumble any weak shit about how it takes so much time and effort to keep in touch with people when your spending HOURS of your life pimping out your fucking blog.
Myspace has made it even easier to not give a shit about people.
Just “click”, now you’re my friend and I don’t have to do anything else.
It’s depressing, but then again, it’s where we’re headed.
I can bitch and bitch and post my angry little entries right here on myspace AND the underappreciated and Amish-by-comparison LiveJournal and the best part is that no one will ever read it.
Why would you? You’ve got more “friend requests”, e-cards, e-vites and video posts to make.
Well, prove me wrong “friends”. All you people on whose periphery I was when you knew me as a flesh and blood person and not as a picture, screen name and headline, read this and tell me why I’m your friend. Why the fuck do you want a whiny, hypocritical, Luddite, spastic ganglo-freak as your friend? Is it because you’re trying to rival that unspeakable techno-twat Tila Tequila? (If that is the case, by the way, kill yourself) How about I just assume so until you prove me wrong.
If you prove me wrong, excellent, I will hopefully find in you a new friend and our surface relationship that we’ve had thus far can deepen into something that means something.
If not? Fuck it. It isn’t like I’ve seen you in years, ever see you now or plan to see you ever again. You’re not even going to read this because it’s more than a paragraph, you lazy anus.
True friendship matters to me.
A true friend is more valuable than anything in this world.