A Fourth Brief Intermission

I'm back from vacationing in good ol' Tejas. Unfortunately, the only thing I didn't get accomplished was my review. Rest assured you'll see it in two days time (which will leave only my Requiem Mass unfinished, Mr. Schauer).

However, I just wanted to share this quick story before I post the aforementioned. It seems like a good one on which to end the year.

I went for a walk late on the evening of December 25. Having had a decent Christmas with my parents (which, at my father's behest, included a viewing of that holiday classic, The Dark Knight), I took a constitutional, as I am wont to do when I'm back in Corsicana.

On the way to the park where I take those frequent walks, I passed 4 kids playing with some sort of dart guns. While I didn't pay much attention to them--enough only to keep from getting shot at--I'd say their ages ranged from about 5 to 9.

Here is the conversation that I overheard. Keep in mind that I didn't respond to them; I just strode onward, collar on my peacoat turned up, a small smile upon my face.

Kid 1 (referring to me): "Is he a bad guy?"

Kid 2: "Nah, he's not a bad guy."

Other kids: "No. No. He's not bad."

Kid 2: "He's Batman."

Other kids: "Aw, wow! Batman!"

Kid 1: "Nah, he's not Batman."

Kid 2: "Well, who is he?"

(Pause)

Kid 1: "He's just...a man."

I'm just a man. Truer words...




Alright. I hope you've all had an enjoyable holiday season. This QOS review and I have some unfinished business. See you back here in two days time.

Quantum of Solace: Great Bond? Or the Greatest Bond? Part 1

So, my friend Brad (one of only 8 people I know who unabashedly likes the film) poses the question to me, "So is your Quantum of Solace review going to end up as the great unfinished magnum opus of your career?"

Damn near, kids. Damn near.

The reason? Appropriating a line from the short story of the same name, allow me to let Ian Fleming explain:

"The prospect, which had previously interested, even excited him, was now edged with boredom and futility."

In earnest do I attempt to retrieve my interest, my excitement, for the few of you who, you know, give a damn.

Part 2 to follow at an indeterminate date (i.e. after you've all forgotten the film), in which I vehemently instruct the nay-saying sections of Bond fandom to listen to reason (i.e. my opinion) and, ultimately, to chill the fuck out.

And much as I loathe ending sentences with prepositions, I'm pretty sure I can let that one go.