Why Hollywood Hasn't Returned My Calls

There are too many James Bond movies. They keep getting redone, newer, better, bigger, and shinier. The James Bond format is a parasite draining creativity out of Hollywood's scriptwriters and only giving stupidity and cliches in return.

I have a solution. Give me the next James Bond movie. I'll write the script; I'll even direct it. And to show how my way would solve this problem, I'll give a sample of my script-writing.

Bond: My name is Bond. James Bond. I have a stupid way of introducing myself, but you're going to sleep with me anyway.

Stupid Woman #1: Yes, I will, even though I'm dating/living with/married to the bad guy and know that you're working to discover his evil plan, because I think that I can actually get something useful out of you.

Bond: Heh heh. By the way, I'm very picky about my drinks. I might kill you if you get it wrong.

Stupid Woman #1: That's okay, my lover/husband will kill me in the next scene anyway. Now let me tell you about a mysterious lair (could be factory, mansion, launch site, or just a well decorated cave) where the unknown as yet evil plan will begin/become unstoppable.

Bond: Gee, thanks! That saves a lot of trouble.

Stupid Woman #1 dies horribly.

Bond's Boss: Very interesting, Bond. Now that you've gotten us the information, let us send in the experts to take care of it.

Bond: But I must have screen time! The people love me! They need me!

Stupid Woman #2: Why don't you sneak in without telling anyone? And oh, look, I have a boat/airplane/helocopter/jeep you can use to get there. But you have to promise to take me with you.

Bond: You will undoubtedly get me caught and nearly killed, and you're almost certainly in the pay of the bad guy, but sure! Come along! The CIA always involves civilians in its operations. Besides, you're cute.

Stupid Woman #2: Sniffle, wiffle, wiff. I'm sorry, James. He has my uncle/aunt/parent/relative of your choice/the mortgage on my business/friend/fiance/child/pet cat. I must betray you now.

Bad Guy: Bwa ha ha! That will teach you to trust stupid women!

Bond: Curses! But don't worry, Stupid Woman #2; I know you're actually a good person, even though you're getting me killed. When I break out I'll come to find you and we'll escape together. Because I'm the good guy, and couldn't possibly leave anyone to suffer the consequences of their actions, and because we haven't slept together yet.

Stupid Woman #2: Now that I've given you what you want, pay up!

Bad Guy: Oh yes! How silly of me. Here- take what you deserve!

Stupid Woman #2 dies. Horribly.

Bad Guy: Now, Mr Bond, let me tell you everything about my plan, exactly how to stop it, and also just how terrible my childhood was; because having a neglectful parent (or any other significant/insignificant) justifies and excuses killing lots of people. Because you are truly the only person who could ever understand me. And because Bad Guys have a built in inferiority complex that demands that we bask in constant admiration and receive validation of ourselves and our goals from everyone and anyone.

Bond: escapes.

Stupid Woman #3: Bond! Quick! The big red button to stop the evil plan is this way!

Bond: But I don't know how to push a button! What will I do?

Stupid Woman #3: I'll give you step-by-step instructions if you promise to take me with you when you escape and to love me forever.

Bond: But we just met.

Stupid Woman #3: I've admired you from afar ever since I figured out that the Bad Guy is a sinking boat, and rats are survivors. To the red button!

Bond: Okay! But just to warn you, I'll discard you the moment the movie is over. And of course, once we've slept together.

And there you have it. I hate James Bond. And no one sympathizes. But if this script hit the theatres, I'm sure the eyes of the people would be opened.