Dying to Win Any Election, the Left Eyeballs James Bond

Liberals are embracing a new cause. Stung by severe serial electoral whippings on peripheral issues such as war, terrorism, sexual behavior, family values, guns, religion, infanticide, the economy, taxes, entertainment, lock boxes, drugs, education, health care, language, manners, and the godly nature of marriage, the Left desperately has decided to flap its only wing over Bond . . . James Bond!

For four breathless decades, from England’s Carnaby Street to America’s Main Street, moviedom’s dashing, misogynistic, international super spy dazzled us mortals with his unlimited prowess while operating in speeding Aston Martins, rumpled beds, and other tight spots. He made male fans jealous and all females except uberfraulein Janet Reno squirm from a bad dose of unrequited love. Scots actor Sean Connery verbally burred his way into our hearts as the original 007, but his many forgettable successors never matched Connery’s sly charm and Greek-god good lucks.

His closest rival has been the most recent Bond poseur, a sophisticated son of Ireland, Pierce Brosnan. After four big-box-office performances, however, Brosnan lost his License to Kill. He demanded $52 million (a Casino Royale fortune) for the next Bond film and almost ended up being ejected at 50,000 feet over the hypothermia-inducing North Atlantic without a parachute. The real-life villain who axed Brosnan was the lovely Goldfingered holder of the priceless James Bond movie franchise, Barbara Broccoli (who, like her deceased father, legendary 007 producer Albert Broccoli, is better when steamed, not boiled).

Brosnan’s forced exit created a surprise opening for opportunistic liberals, who lust for anything that even resembles a winning issue. Enter from Stage Left the Guardian, Britain’s most notorious newspaper (it makes the old Pravda read like a garden-club newsletter) and publication of choice (edging out even the New York Times) for antiwar crazies during America’s Vietnam period. No different today (the Guardian, for example, is more sympathetic to al Qaeda terrorists than to their 3,000 victims of 9/11), the venerable journalistic rag recently raged–and this is not a joke–for a totally new 007 who would be either “a gay Bond, a black Bond, a paraplegic Bond, an obese Bond . . . any Bond but James Bond.”

The Guardian‘s cruelest bifurcated-tongue lashing was to liken author Ian Fleming’s alter-ego James Bond character to “an ancient gay dress designer.” (Question Number 1: Could anyone other than a memory-challenged liberal manage in a single breath both to propose a new, gay Bond and condemn the old Bond because he “acts” gay? Question Number 2: Could someone kindly reach New Jersey’s AC/DC ex-Governor James McGreevy and tell him to buzz Barbara Brocolli about a job?)

Meantime, on the U.S. side of the pond, the liberal showbiz bible Variety also has concluded that James Bond is pass???? ©, done in by the one-two movie punch of Mike Myers’ satiric Austin Powers and Gen X heartthrob Matt Damon’s “accessible” (whatever that means) super-secret-agent Jason Bourne.

Clearly, it’s time for the Hollywood-London cinematic liberal axis to forge James Bond anew in the cauldron of Political Correctness, to cast a truly modern, 21st Century man or woman with a modified name and radically re-engineered style, one who can Live And Let Live as a Leftist hero for the hapless, hip and hip-hoppers.

Consider these potential stars for filling Bond’s new Birkenstock sandals:

  • J.F. Kerry-Bond, who has “a plan” for humanity’s every ill, suavely speaks circumlocutions in fluent French and English, and always carries a ring-sized micro-video camera to record his spontaneous acts of bravery.
  • Jimmy Carter-Bond, connoisseur of renewable goobers, who wears a cardigan sweater while endlessly trekking across frigid Antarctica in pursuit of the crazed Dr. W, who is bent on killing all insurgent anti-democracy penguins.
  • Michael Moore-Bond, hirsute, Leviathan-sized, creative-genius gas bag who, disguised as a Hitler-era zeppelin, hovers over Red States and drops acid-filled water balloons on Christians and kindred evildoers.
  • Michael Jackson-Bond, the very gentle, loving, under-the-covers agent of NAMBLA who selflessly rescues little boys from a life of depraved heterosexuality.
  • Ellen DeGeneres-Bond, the very gentle, loving, under-the-covers agent of LESBOS who selflessly rescues little girls stranded by the little boys who were rescued by her nonbiological “father,” Michael Jackson-Bond. (This convoluted relationship will be explained in the 007 prequel, The Spy Who More Or Less Loved Me.)
  • Al Sharpton-Bond, who by day is a highly paid men’s-wear consultant for Gentlemen’s Quarterly but by night sports a smartly tailored white-on-white silk sheet in order to track the hordes of Ku Klux Klan members from the Bush Administration who plant fiery crosses on inner-city lawns in Blue States.
  • Howard Dean-Bond, mild-mannered doctor-turned-Swedish-folk singer and cat fancier whose female felines cry nonstop, as if in perpetual estrous, and serve as the chorus for his New England fundraising concerts on behalf of the United Nations, Democratic National Committee, and Save the Loons.
  • Hillary Rodman Clinton-Bond, garrulous owner of a New York cookie bakery on Park Avenue that is a front for the USSR Communist Party in Exile, whose heavily accented apparatchiks use the “ovens” after dark to manufacture Weapons of Mass Destruction for struggling Baathist liberators in Iraq.
  • Harry Reid-Bond (“The Senator”),not-so-secret agent for the state of Nevada’s grandest casinos who dedicates his life to hectoring customers at the roulette wheel to buy only government-approved red and black chips, not the unpredictable private Blue Chips, in order to secure their retirement years.
  • William Jefferson Clinton-Bond, a charming rascal who skillfully navigates through the perils tossed into his path by vile adherents of a vast conspiracy called TRUTH! (that is, “The Right Understands Thine Hillary!”); loves the ladies and a good cigar (sometimes simultaneously); is occasionally violent to his enemies, especially if his State Highwaymen catch them driving alone at night on an Arkansas dirt road, and cons huge amounts of cash out of other conmen. Oops! Forget this prospective 007 replacement; he’s too much like the James Bond we just ditched.