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Movie Review: The World Is Not Enough

“Do you love yourself?”

Somebody asked me this question the other day. Not the first time I’ve heard it.

My immediate answer is “No”. It’s like I don’t even have to think about it. Do you love yourself, mikE? No. Automatic, just like that.

Normally, I’m convinced of it. Why don’t I? I’m never satisfied with anything I do. Everything I write I think sucks. I don’t think this website is very impressive looking. I can never get my apartment organized. I wish I had a more fashionable wardrobe. I don’t read as fast as I would like. I’m not as politically active as I think I should be. I don’t talk as much or act as social as I could. I can’t draw.

I am rarely happy, satisfied or content. Then, ergo, I do not love myself.

But you know what, that’s horseshit. And “Do you love yourself” is a meaningless question.

It sounds like a ’90s kind of question, a result of living in an empty consumer culture. Products don’t make you any happier. Stockpiling TVs, blenders, microwaves, DVD players, stereos, computers, etc. doesn’t make anyone happier. They may provide a false sense of comfort. But if you can stand amidst all the junk you own but still feel like you can proudly claim “I LOVE ME!” then it’s all worthwhile.

You know, I’m kinda suspicious of people who claim they love themselves. A person shouldn’t be able to answer a question like that so easily. And I was duped into answering the question easily, too, and made to feel bad about myself because I had given a negative response.

I probably love myself more than anybody who responds to that question positively. If I thought I was a wonderful writer would that make me love myself? No, it would make me a pretentious prick. If I was happy with everything I did or created, I think it would make me a bore. I would grow stagnant and lazy. If I loved everything I wrote, then I really would suck because I’d stop trying to get better.

I’m the same way at my real job. I’m always afraid I’m doing a shitty job and on the verge of getting fired. I’ve been at my current position almost two months now and I never feel like I’m doing anything right. But my boss comes up to me the other day and says, “I’m really impressed. You’ve taken a lot of initiative with this job.” Did I bask in the compliment? No, I got right back to work praying to God my boss doesn’t discover what an incompetent moron I really am.

Yeah, I’m hard on myself. Forgive me. Does it make me a bad person? That’s for other people to decide. I don’t think it does.

Take James Bond, for example (*whew*, even I was wondering if I could tie this into the movie somehow). There’s a cat who truly acts like he loves himself.

Not that the meaning of life lies with sleeping with women (or men, if you’re a woman reading this), but Bond knows how to get laid. Any woman he meets, he takes one look at her, knows he’s going to have sex with them, the women know it and BANG! they end up having sex before the end credits roll. Even the hardest, coldest, meanest bitch he runs up against, he weasels his way into the sack with them.

But does Bond really love himself? Is he truly happy? Or is his confident exterior simply a façade he uses to get pussy? I mean, this is his job-to get information out of people. He HAS to act confident. The villains would always win if he acted like a wuss. They would feed off his fear, so Bond has to pretend he’s smugly superior to them and that has defined his relationships to all people, including babes he wants to nail.

It’s my contention that Bond hates his life no matter how many chicks he gets. Pierce Brosnan plays a good Bond because he gives him a terrific emotional depth. This poor guy isn’t allowed to be human. In ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE, he finally meets the love of his life and decides to settle down. But the bitch gets iced ten seconds before the movie is over. Yeah, Bond has saved the world a dozen times over, but every time he experiences a little taste of a normal life it all gets blown up right in his face. THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH is a good sequel to ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE, even though there’s been a gazillion Bond films in between.

So, if I were ever hired to write a Bond film, I’d probably re-write a famous Bond scenario. Tied down to a metal table, a laser gun aimed right at Bond’s nuts, the villain asks, “So, Mr. Bond, tell me. Do you love yourself?”

Bond replies, “Ye…” stopping himself mid-answer. He seriously thinks about it for a split second and starts blubbering like a baby when he realizes what a pathetic sham of a life he’s been living all these years.

The villain cackles villainously as the laser starts burning the hair on Bond’s balls. But Bond uses his watch gizmo thing to free himself before his genitals are fried, swings the laser around and cuts the villain in half.

Bond then pulls a handkerchief out of his suit pocket, dabs his eyes, blows his nose and mutters, “Oh well” before heading off to find some chick to bang.

The end.