Sure, die another day, but at least return my phone calls
For weeks, I heard from you always. I couldn't move without you there. Everywhere I turned you were there. Halle, Pierce, James, Q. You were on every talk show, in every magazine. I heard you tell me fondly how you grew up on Bond films. How you love the role.
How Bond women are really strong women, not just floozies that are picked up and dropped off before the next film.
Halle, you were on "Revealed with Jules (Ed) Asner." And I was there. Halle, you revealed everything about yourself. You joked about crying a lot at the Oscars. YOU WERE REVEALED!
Pierce, you talked of being a young lass rushing to see the latest Bond movie, all excited. I pictured you dressed all Angela's Ashes running through the woods with your mates all wearing those caps that you wear.
You said James Bond was the greatest thing growing up. You opened up to me. You finally knocked down that wall and talked, and it was real.
Then there were the specials. "Bond Women," "Making of Bond," Bond, Bond, bond sndkskfjsdfjfsldklss..
Then every magazine had you guys on the cover. Even talk of a spin-off. Yes, talks of a Jinx spin-off with Berry as a female James Bond. What an honor! (Did you know that the Fleming estate never approved of a spinoff before? This is special. You're special.)
Then...BOOM! After the opening weekend, you were nowhere to be found. Nothing; not an interview or a special.
YOU USED ME! YOU USED ME! After the opening weekend you were gone. Not a word. You got what you wanted and left. You got your precious #1 at the box office/biggest opening of a Bond film and turned from me.
I feel so dirty.
When the DVD comes out, will you call me? Or at least appear on Craig Kilborn?