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Tuesday, June 13, 2006

James Bond

This evening I half-watched part of "From Russia, With Love" on commercial television without sound. Wow. While this may not sound like a particularly scintillating experience, the women were still attractive (in fact, this movie includes a perplexing fight between two hot gypsy chicks - that's great cinema right there), the gadgets were still gadgets, the action scenes did not lose anything and I didn't feel like I missed any salient plot points by not hearing the explanation or even not paying attention. Except maybe the explanation for the gypsy chick fight, but who really needs an explanation for that?

Of course, I developed some quibbles.

First of all, James Bond never curses. What the f*^$. That kind of stretches the willing suspension of disbelief. Three Italian stewardesses want to have sex with you and a madman with a twelve gerbils on leashes is going to implode Toronto and all Sean Connery can do is suppress a smile and mutter a cute double entendre? Please. The Pope would have used f*&^.

The other thing that bothered me were the fight scenes. James Bond and some guy whose name I don't know because there was no sound get into a fight on a train. They try to garrote, strangle and gouge each other's eyes out in a fight that lasts about ten minutes (whatever), but neither one of them tries to kick the other one in the balls.

Dear reader, I have to warn you that if we ever engage in hand-to-hand combat to the death, I will be kicking you in the balls. Hard. Unless of course you are a woman, in which case I would be paralyzed by moral and logistical concerns. Or if you are a hot gypsy chick, then you can just win.

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