James Bond is a punk bastard

I skipped Christmas this year. Instead, I watched movies — so it’s like any other day really. Except with a lot more booze and a lot less faith in myself.

I put on a movie called Dr. No, a tale about a simple fisherman named Quarrel who decided to make a few extra bucks by taking some Englishman named Strangways out on his boat to collect some rock samples. You can’t blame a dude for trying to score some extra dough. Next thing he knows, he finds out Strangways has disappeared, along with his attractive “secretary”. Quarrel knows he’s in something deep, and this is proven when homeboy from Hawaii Five-O shows up and tells him “Guess what? You’re working with the C.I.A. now, bro”. Keep in mind that even though they’re in Jamaica, this IS the early ’60s, and you know what *that’s* all about.

Things get worse when this smug English asshole named James Bond shows up. They introduce him playing some French card shit with this hot foreign chick. She tells him that her name is “Chick….Hot Chick” (I can’t remember her actual name) and he fucking mocks her back when he tells her his name: “Bond…James Bond”. What an asshole. But this dude must be a big deal because even H5O kowtows to his Royal Highness. I’m telling you this guy would be completely insufferable if it weren’t for the fact that he’s got a way with the ladies — his way. Really, Bond gets around. He’s old-school too; he doesn’t ask or plead, he just takes a woman by the hand in a manner that seems to say “Listen girl. I’m the man and you’re the woman. Never forget it”, and they don’t either. They completely go for it. Supposedly back then, there were a lot more men around like this, and women dug it. Now every guy tries to play the sensitive card, and every woman wants to be “independent”, whatever that means. I have a feeling there were a lot more home cooked meals being made back in the good old days.

That reminds me of a pretty awesome scene in the movie. Bond has just finished banging his third or fourth broad of the day, this Asian chick. She’s putting on her makeup and he’s lounging back in bed, like the stud he is. He tells her he’s hungry. She offers to cook him a home-cooked Chinese dinner. Because she’s Asian. He declines, inviting her to an Italian restaurant instead. She’s says she wants to stay home and order in. Bond’s like “Listen Yoko, I said I want to go out for Italian”. She stand her ground, and he gives this shrug like “Whatever bitch” and calls a cab for her. Holy shit. I’ve never seen “my way or the highway” taken to such a literal level. You can’t hate a guy for being a player like that.

But you *can* hate him for ordering around our man Quarrel, which he does after smacking him and his alligator-wrestling friend around. You know how sometimes a kid will stand up to a bully, and next thing you know, the bully’s his best friend/lapdog? Well, I’ve heard stories about that kind of thing happening anyway. Or I saw it in a movie. But it happens with Quarrel. Rather than telling Bond to go fuck himself afterwards, he becomes his partner, if you can call indentured servitude a partnership. It’s pretty messed up. He gets to be the token Negro, hanging with Bond and H5O on their little adventure.

They end up hanging out at a nightclub, and everything seems cool until this chick does a piss poor job of trying to sneakily take a picture of Bond. J.B. thinks he’s such hot shit, like he’s Brangelina or somebody, and gets upset about this so he orders Quarrel to get her and the camera and bring them back to him. Now check this out: Bond is actually a few feet closer to this chick, so why can’t HE get his white ass up and take this chick? Plus, he’s James Bond; all he has to do is grab her by the wrist and give her the I Own You look, like he does to every chick and she’ll be too busy wondering why her panties are percolating and he can grab the camera. Noooo, this asshole has to show that he’s the boss and tell Quarrel to get up and get her, even though he KNOWS Quarrel’s going to have a harder time about it. At least be nice about it when you ask, jerk. To add injury to insult, the chick smashes a photobulb into Quarrel’s temple, which he just laughs off, wiping off the mixture of blood and smashed up glass from his face, even though you know the guy is crying on the inside. I wouldn’t blame you, if you just let it out, Quarrel. Shit like that can make you feel like the loneliest man in a crowded room.

So Bond, H5O and our man Quarrel get on a boat and head for this island called Crab Key suspecting there’s some bad guy nonsense going on there, even though Quarrel is scared shitless of taking them. He explains that no one goes to Crab Key because there’s a dragon there. Bond and H50 give each other a look like “Ha ha, what a silly Negro” and make him go anyway, dismissing that dragon crap as horse shit. Just island superstition.

As they get near the island, the boys set up a raft when H5O suddenly pulls some “I can’t go with you because my presence will cause an international incident” shit or something, I don’t know, I was getting pretty hammered at this point to remember. But you know he just couldn’t man up. Maybe if his balls were as big as his bulletproof hair, he might have gone. But no, this guy is really yellow under all that red, white and blue. So Bond’s like, “It’s cool. I’ll just take the Expendable Negro with me” and you know all Quarrel’s thinking at this point is “Fuck, I should’ve stayed in school”. I know the feeling, Quarrel. Don’t I know the goddamn feeling.

They get to the island and take a nap on the beach for a while, or at least Bond is, and he probably has poor Quarrel keeping watch the whole time. It’s not all about YOU, motherfucker. Bond changes into some faggy blue getup and creeps out this chick who’s collecting seashells by the seashore. I didn’t catch her name, but I would wager it’s Sally. She’s a healthy girl, this Sally. I miss it when hot chicks used to have honest-to-goodness bodies, and would occasionally eat a cheeseburger and allow nature to take it’s course, rather than using their fingers. That reminds me; Scarlett Johansson is in that new Spirit movie that just came out. She’s pretty fit, but I think I’m going to have to wait to rent that on DVD rather than spend precious, precious money on it in the cinema. That flick’s been getting TERRIBLE notices and it’s not like she gets naked in it anyway. Damn it. Nobody gets naked anymore, except guys in Judd Apatow movies. Fuck Judd Apatow.

Bond tries to croon his way into Sally’s heart, but she’s not having it, because the chick’s packing a filero. I was like “Good for you, don’t fall for it like every other girl”, hoping she would maybe give our man Quarrel a little taste instead. It would serve that limey bastard right. But no, if anything, she freaks out even more and jumps into Bond’s arms when she sees Quarrel. What the fuck? Get over yourself, girl. Just because you’re a hot blonde doesn’t make every black dude O.J.. Bond doesn’t even help. Instead he says to Quarrel, “fetch my shoes”. I’m not kidding. He makes Quarrel run halfway down the beach to pick up his stupid ass footwear. What an asshole. He might as well call him “boy” to complete the package.

So later on, as they all get to know each other, Quarrel brings up how scared he is to be on this island because of the dragon. Just as Bond is about smack the superstition out of homeboy, Sally not only agrees, but claims to have SEEN this dragon. You should see the look on Limey’s face. Before, he was able to dismiss that dragon story because it was a black islander telling it. But now he’s got this hot chick, a white chick at that, saying she’s seen this dragon in the scaly flesh. Bond is able to handle it though, because a couple exchanges later he realizes she’s a bit of a loon and not the brightest bulb in the socket either. Example: Sally tells a story about some guy who wouldn’t leave her alone (probably a black guy, which would make sense with Ms. Aryan Dingbat over here), so she leaves a black widow spider to sting him, leading the unwelcome suitor to die over the course of a week. Bond gets all Dolemite and goes “Biiiitch, are you for real?” and she seems genuinely confused and asks him if that was wrong to do. Bond’s like “Girl, the only wrong thing you could do right now would be to say No….Dr. No”.

They get further into the island when they hear something. Quarrel takes a look and freaks out, saying it’s the dragon. Bond checks it out and finds that it isn’t really a dragon, but a tank with painted teeth in front and huge headlights for eyes and two flamethrowers on the side. Bond immediately takes action and tells Quarrel to shoot at the headlights, while he and Sally hang out somewhere safer and pretend to try shooting at it. Fucking asshole doesn’t even try to explain to Quarrel that yes, it’s deadly but it ain’t no dragon. He’s just like “shoot it, boy”. The tank gets closer, firing its deadly jets of fire toward homeboy. Quarrel shoots at it over and over again, proving he’s as skillful with a firearm as Michael J. Fox is with a game of Jenga.

Eventually the dragon gets close enough to Quarrel and…and…it’s fucking horrible. You can see the fright on his face as he realizes that his life is about to come to an end. The dragon exhales genuine Satan Breath from the pits of Hades and engulfs poor, poor Quarrel with it. We hear him let out one final, long painful scream as the fire burns him alive, giving him a taste of Hell before he goes to Heaven. Despite his constant begging and pleading not to go on the island, despite the many warnings of this dragon he and fellow fishermen fucking KNEW existed, the same dragon those two evil, evil white men mocked him for, he couldn’t escape his fate. All he wanted was some extra cash. Who among us, especially during this tough financial crisis our beautiful country is suffering through, wouldn’t sympathize? He didn’t even get to bang a chick, either — you’d think Bond would’ve let him have some of his sloppy seconds. Now, all that is left of him is a flaming crumpled up pile of fisherman.

Christ. Guy started as some mother’s son, lived life, and now look at what remains. Shit. I mean, what will be left of us, when our time comes? We’re all human beings and shit, and we all become fucking dust in the wind? Is that what that fucking song in Old School is about? God, I don’t even want to think about it. Excuse me, while I take another drink.

Ok, that’s better.

Anyway, you figure at this point that the movie has ended. Our hero is dead, and there is no reason to continue. But continue it does, for another half-hour or so, as we follow this piece of shit Bond and his dumb blonde as they are taken prisoner by Dr. No’s henchmen. You figure maybe the movie will give what the audience wants, and have Bond suffer for sending poor Quarrel into a situation he was ill-equipped to handle. Unfortunately, the most we get is a kind of half-assed Silkwood shower, and even then, Bond seems to dig it. He meets this Dr. No, foils his evil “toppling” plan, defeats him and ends up blowing up the godforsaken island of Crab Key — so now even Quarrel’s family can’t visit to pay their respects at homeboy’s final resting place. Nice work, douche.

The ending is pretty fucking revolting; Bond and Stupid McDumbchick are making out on a boat when from out of nowhere H5O cruises up in another boat with a bunch of Marines to congratulate him. Damn, if only those Leathernecks knew what a pansy H5O was, and how he sent a civilian fisherman to do Man’s work, they would probably tie him down and beat the yellow out of him with bars of soap wrapped in towels. I think even Bond’s lost some respect for the dude, because when H5O offers to give him a tow, Bond unties the rope. It’s almost symbolic, like he doesn’t want to be connected with a metrosexual who punks out when the going gets tough. It could also be symbolic for England not wanting to be connected with the United States. Sure, it’s real easy to talk shit like that after we kicked your ass and won our independence; “oh, we never wanted to be part of you people anyway”. Go screw, you bunch of cigarettes.

Tonight, I’m going to pour some of my drink on the ground for my man Quarrel. Rest in Peace, bro. See you at the crossroads.

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