Serendipity
Bond, bugs and boxing
Unlike Bond's drink of choice, not only have I been feeling like a vodka martini that's been shaken AND stirred (Bond prefers his shaken but NOT stirred), but I'm also close to weeping tears of blood (ala Le Chiffre) in frustration. I have been cooped up in my room for days now, knocked out like Morales in a battle versus an army of stubbornly resistant "superbugs". Whatever these bugs are, they're having one hell of a victory party at my expense.
But let's backtrack a little. Before I was colonized by these ingrates, at least I was able to watch the latest Bond film. I don't know if I could call myself a Bond fan but I grew up watching Bond movies because of my Dad who's an inveterate 007 fanatic. Now what's so different about Casino Royale is the fact that this is an adaptation of Ian Fleming's first book and it explains how Bond became the Bond that we know now. Forget the gadget-happy, jetpacking, womanizing, no-hair-out-of-place-even-after-getting-slugged-by-six-thugs Bond. This Bond is for real. Like Shakespeare's Shylock, he bleeds, he laughs (even after getting whipped), he gets his revenge. The only difference is, he doesn't die even after getting poisoned (thanks to one nifty defibrillator which is perhaps the only gadget in the whole movie -- but wait, I'm revealing too much here).
Daniel Craig, who took the reins from the dashing Pierce Brosnan is perhaps the best Bond since Sean Connery. I guess those die-hard Bond fans who were so outraged at the thought of the blond Craig playing the 6th 007 agent can now sleep soundly at night knowing that their favorite character is in good hands. Craig portrayed an edgier, meaner, more human and more believable Bond and the movie gave new life to the Bond franchise that was already at the brink of being irrelevant and trite. Trust me, but this latest Bond caper is a keeper and can very well make fanatics out of critics.
And speaking of critics, all of Pacquiao's detractors (Ok, that includes me) temporarily shut their mouths last Sunday after Morales was beaten to a pulp and knocked down in a shocking 3-rounder game. I couldn't believe three things last Sunday: one, why the much-anticipated fight was too fast and short (3 rounds? Are you kidding me? I never even got to microwave the popcorn! Boohoo to the TV stations, the advertisers and sponsors who wanted to earn more millions...); two, why Morales never put up a worthy fight after declaring to all and sunder that he was in his best form; and three, why after all the diversions, distractions and controversies (recording albums, commercial endorsements from sukang puti to a burger chain, ostentatious cars, mistresses and paternity issues), Pacquiao was still able to pull through and how. Well, some people are just born lucky I guess. They get punched a bit and they come home a hero (not to mention a few million bucks richer).
As for me, I may not be as lucky as the famed Pacquiao what with these "bugs" taking residence in my body. But with a good doctor, some mean antibiotics, plenty of rest and TLC, I think I'll survive and win this round.