The Name is Bond: A friend, who knew me when I was a James Bond fanatic, e-mailed to ask what I think of the new James Bond, Daniel Craig. I'll give it to you as straight as I gave it to him.

Christ, I so do not care. 20 years ago Pierce Brosnan might have saved this franchise from total self-parody. Now he looks nearly as old and effete (not to say homosexual) as Roger Moore did back when, flitting around as some ridiculous, over-the-hill "superspy" who's supposedly a sex machine with all the chicks. ("Hold on there as second, Fanny Spreadeagle. [Not a bad name for a Bond girl, eh?] You can seduce me after I unhook my colostomy bag.")

No matter who they get to replace him, this character is done. They've milked the humor to the bone, and the action you can get anyplace now. There hasn't been a decent Bond flick since "For Your Eyes Only," and that was the first decent one following a decade of crap. ("Moonraker"? "The Spy Who Loved Me"? Jesus. Did anyone at the home office bother to read these abortions they called scripts?)

So thanks, but no more helpings of this shit-n'-humiliation casserole for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just stay at home, with my kleenex boxes on my feet, and watch my DVD of "The Man with the Gold(en Gun) Fingers Dr. No's Thunderballs" (or whatever) again.

Uh, me? Bitter? Why do you ask?

Or, as I remarked to Razor:

A blond Bond? They might as well have picked a chick.