Which James Bond Am I?

Your results:
You are Daniel Craig

The sixth actor to play Bond in the movies promises to be a more realistic, down to earth and not so perfect James Bond, while still being a sexy womanizer.

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Daniel Craig?

Here I was being "realistic," thinking I'm Jimmy Bond (Woody Allen, "Casino Royale," 1967). We dress alike (pajamas with snappy brown shoes) and, let me put on my glasses, you're not supposed to hit a guy wearing glasses.

Yes, I am "down to earth." It's the extra 50 pounds of Goo Goo Cluster goo. I can hardly pick up my feet off the planet.

I admit I'm "not so perfect," but I compensate with the abundance of factory-seconds dimples.

Me, a "sexy womanizer?" This could cost me a fortune in tux ties and Tic Tacs.


Click here to take the "Which James Bond Am I?" quiz.

Even More Shameless Movie Tie-Ins

"Before the Shark there was the Whale."

Yeah, sure.

I'm still annoyed by that 30-year-old ad campaign comparing dissimilar "Moby Dick" to "Jaws."

Coming soon:

Before the Savior there was Ben, Hurt.

Before the Saw II there was the Sauté.

Before the Shark there was the Whale.

More Shameless Movie Tie-Ins

In the 1970s, an advertising campaign was developed which unjustly positioned the film "Moby Dick" as a companion piece to "Jaws." The posters screamed: "Before the Shark there was the Whale."

It must've worked, though. The Hollywood parasites are back.

Before the Saw II there was the Two for the Seesaw.

Before the Casino Royale there was the Casino Royale before there was the Casino Royale.

Danny, Before the Foyer there was the Flyer.

Deep Leap

While researching "Moby Dick" for a previous entry, I discovered this shameless reissue promotion involving the all-but-forgotten 1956 film.

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After the huge success of Steven Spielberg's "Jaws" in 1975, the whale tale was brought back from the bottom of the cinema to cash in on the phenomenon.

"Before the Shark there was the Whale," spouts the ad copy, but the two stories are essentially unrelated in construction and tone.

What's next?

Before the Feet there was the Gilmore.

Before the Cars there was the Carson.

Before the Borat there was the Borax.

100 Things About Me #88

Beam Me Up, Moby

In the comments section of "100 Things About Me #87," reader Paros Shepherd asks about my rather fast transition from playing with a toy slide projector to a career as a movie projectionist.

"Do you know what attracted you to projection in those early years?"

I've always been attracted to show business, but there was no cable in the womb, so I popped out and waited for Sinatra tickets.

My favorite form of entertainment is the movies. Inside a theatre, I feel an ever-present excitement. I'm sure the tiny me was taken by the screen bigness, the colors, the action, and the elaborate storytelling.

Plus, theatres were where they kept the Jujubes.

My parents never told me the title of the first film I attended. My bio proudly states it was "Rover Dangerfield," because that makes me 35 years younger.

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My earliest distinct theatre memory stretches back to age four. The film was "Moby Dick" (1956) with Gregory Peck confronting the notorious white beast. I recall sitting alongside the folks, taking in the wondrous new world of sticky auditorium floors and seat gums.

Dad was into the fishy tale, shaking Natural "Fleur De Sel" Sea Salt with Fennel from Noirmoutier Island into his bag of Oyster Crackers, while his other hand clasped Green Olive Spread Tapenade in case there was Dick on a Stick.

Mom held his hip waders and harpoon.

I do remember images of the whale, but my focus was elsewhere. I have a vivid recollection of turning away from the giant screen to peer through the chairs at the powerful, flickering light beam which splayed out of the projector behind me. I was mesmerized by that spectacle. It was an omen.

Jump ahead 20 years, Gregory Peck was in "The Omen."

Jump ahead 40 years, I was sitting in my projection room at work. It's spare time. With my back to the screen, I flipped over the page of a book to Chapter Two, "Moby Dick."


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But Not That

I am a man, so my job description requires I be brave.

I have traveled, gone everywhere.

I have seen much ado.

I know the horrors that men leave behind.

Therefore and nevertheless, I shan't be able to bring myself to walk through a door marked "Flushed Aw."

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah, Blah

Morty the Cat's love for the "Greg the Bunny" show has revived mine, too.

I enjoy the program's celebrated character actor / vampire, Count Blah, who comes from the Bela Lugosi School of Performing Arts, meaning he frequently throws an extra "blah" into his patter. Here's a quotation:

Greg: Wow. Count Blah, can I just say that you scared the piss out of me. And I mean that from the heart, sir.

Blah: Please. You may call me Blah, blah.

Greg: Okay. Blah Blah.

Blah: No. Just Blah ... blah.

Greg: Just ... Blah Blah.

Blah: Blah! My boy, it is simple. Just Blah ... blah.

Greg: Just Blah ... Blah.

Blah: Look, don't turn this into a frickin' Abbott and Costello routine, okay? Just call me Blah, and leave it at that.

Blah.

I think my favorite Count Blah bit is a sight gag we see when he visits his wife's grave. (How in the world a vampire's spouse died in the first place was not explained.)

Her tombstone:

MALDORA BLAH
BELOVED WIFE, BLAH

R.I.P.B.

Parenting 101

I caught Morty sneaking a look at a saucy bedroom scene on "Greg the Bunny."

I guess it's time we had that little talk.

Probably, past time. Lately, his meows sound like Barry White.

How Morty found the show, I don't know. That's the last time I buy a Catnip Universal Remote.

The Birds With the Golden 'Feet'

<sup>Weekend Box Office Estimates: Nov. 17-19, 2006
1. "Happy Feet" (Warner Bros.): $42.3 million - opening weekend
2. "Casino Royale" (Sony): $40.6 million - opening weekend
3. "Borat" (Fox): $14.4 million - 3 wk. total $90.5M
Source: Box Office Mojo</sup>

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I was surprised penguins, cartoon penguins beat Bond, James Bond at the movies over the weekend. While 40 million dollars is a good take in general, it's lackluster for a vehicle producers were gambling to be The He-Only-Lives-Twice Second Coming.

The rule of thumb expectation going forward is diminished box office returns each week. I bet there is a lot of Maalox (guzzled not stirred) being consumed at Sony and the EON Productions offices today.

To be beaten by a kiddie flick seen by far more reduced-admission eyes has got to be the cold finger, especially during the current family film glut plaguing the movie industry.

Don't motion pictures still need to gross three times their initial costs to break even? "Casino Royale's" $250M production / marketing investment could take forever say forever to recoup.

Meanwhile, diamonds are for flippers.

M

100 Things About Me #87

Forever in the Dark

The most sought after Christmas gift I ever received arrived in 1961. I had simply told my mother I would be getting the Kenner's Give-A-Show Projector.

I simply told her several times per day for several months.

She obeyed. I found the show-business-in-a-box under a dangling Santa stocking, much to my stunned surprise. I still can't believe how lucky and excited I was!

Basically, this item was a flashlight, which allowed poorly drawn slides of cartoon characters to pass through the bright white beam. Images akin to a newspaper comic strip could be projected anywhere, onto a wall or a ceiling, or a baby brother.

The whole set-up was pretty lame, actually, but offered a pleasurable diversion, seeing a behemoth Huckleberry Hound hiking a haunch on his hat or something.

I was nine, embarking on a path of escalation.

Less than two years later, I was apprenticing as a professional 35mm motion picture machine operator at the neighborhood theatre.

By 13, I ran the Saturday films all by myself -- for pay!

Within months, I worked in two area theatres each weekend.

I had become a keener give-a-show projectionist.

That was a childhood. I had the best one I could imagine -- plus endless free popcorn, James Bond flicks, and real cartoons. Acquiring unrestricted access to a movie theatre and its projection room is possession of the greatest toy.

I continued to show movies throughout the school years and the bulk of my adult life. I tell people the superb "Cinema Paradiso" is my story. Except for the parts about growing up in Italy and looking adorable in knee pants, the picture is amazingly me!

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Okay, I was being modest about the knee pants.

2006: A Space Heater

It finally dawned on me why Morty Cat was spellbound with "2001: A Space Odyssey."

2001: A Spaced Kitty

I've been sharing my love of movies with Morty. He's surprisingly attentive for a cat, watching from the warmth of my lap.

Saturday, we viewed Carroll Ballard's buried treasure, "Duma," the excellent cheetah adventure, and Morty liked that one a lot, but he was wowed by Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" even more.


Morty scurried over to the television for a closer look. He was fascinated with the epic's opening prehistoric sequence, yet he lost interest when things turned to science fiction.


He takes after me. Special effects are so over.

Film historian Frank Thompson, who keeps up on important cinematic matters, writes:

"Did he throw his catnip mouse into the air in slow motion?"

Nope, as you can see, Morty had lost interest by that point of the movie.


No meat left on the bone.

Borat v. Barr

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Viewers of "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan" might appreciate this item.

During the early minutes of the film, the former congressman Borat interviews is Bob Barr, who, from 1995 to 2003, represented the 7th District of Georgia in the U.S. House of Representatives. The men share a snack from Borat's bride.

Before his public service days, Barr was a partner in my wife's law firm.

Donna says he's invited to the Christmas party. I'm going just so I can offer him the cheese.

100 Things About Me #86

Down in the Humps

As previously confessed, I am morally and emotionally weak, due to the despair of living a vegetarian hypocrite's existence, closeted animal cracker eater that I am.

My self-loathing gets worse.

I have a compulsive predilection for camel twos.


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100 Things About Me #85

The Shame

Since 1989, I have been a strict, dedicated vegetarian, yet it grieves me to admit I have not been able to curb my addiction to animal crackers.



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I Love R.N., But...

We saw Randy Newman in concert with the Atlanta Symphony several weeks ago. The music is still whirling through my head.

Good show, two hours, yet strange. No "I Love L.A." No "Monk." No "Ragtime" soundtrack. We got suites from "Toy Story" and Mel Gibson's "Maverick."

He sang lots of two-minute songs that all sound alike after halfway into the first one.

He jokingly acknowledged the problem.

These brief tunes make you wonder, "Um, Randy, do you ever complete a premise?" Much of his vocal material seems underwritten, like he simply lost interest and moved on. Short Attention Span Theatre.

At other times, I'm thinking, "Um, Randy, this lyric repetition thing is working well for you, huh? Working well for you. Working well for you. Working well for you. Working well for you. Working well for you. Huh?"

I like the guy; don't get me wrong. I did think his program choices put him in a disappointing position. I mean, he had a full, world-class orchestra sitting idle at his feet, song after song. What was he doing playing so many solo pieces at the piano?

That orchestral chunk from "The Natural" made the world right, though. It is still thrilling and inspiring.

Hell, I'm going outside and whittle me a ball bat....

Duck Feat

   Dramatic recreation with an actor duck.
   Thespian pups not budgeted.

We heard unusual splashing noises coming from our creek the other morning. Stepping outside onto the porch, I could see two big dogs, a German shepherd and a boxer, acting odd in the cold, rippling pool that collects where the water turns a sharp right to continue downstream.

The reason the animals had entered the creek became apparent when a duck paddled into view to assume refuge atop the deepest spot. The dogs circled the bird and barked, but were only willing to proceed a few yards into the frigid liquid to trap their prey. The duck wasn't overly concerned with the woofing brutes, but he wasn't eager to leave safety either.

A few minutes of canine sloshes and yelps passed until the dogs chose to hop out of the stream for a breather and synchronized body shakes. The duck took notice and beaked away.

"Look," Donna said, "he's making a run for it."

"I love you, my dear, and it grieves me to correct you," I expressed with remorse. "He's making a float for it."

More Fall Foliage Photos IN COLOR

Here are several pretty pictures from our place.

Oh, and it is official...


I have turned into my mother.