Home Art COVID High Time for a New James Bond? A Dr. Pasteur Bond?

COVID High Time for a New James Bond? A Dr. Pasteur Bond?

Since the inception of the James Bond literary franchise – a series of novels and short stories, first published in 1953, the world has been set in its need of a charismatic savior. COVID time is no exception.

 James Bond, often referred to by his code name, 007, is a British Secret Service agent, created by naval intelligence officer and author Ian Fleming. The first of the 12 novels appeared in 1953, Casino Royale;  all written at his Jamaican home Goldeneye and published annually.

Since COVID has arrived, the need for a savior has only increased though nothing indicates that there is any one ready for this job.

That doesn’t stop us to talk, though.


  1. Dear TPV,

    If you were crossing the street (careful please if so) wondering, if so, who your second camera person is.

    I’ve been watching little bits of action / adventure movies on YT when I don’t have the initiative to write or practice and have seen a few minutes (literally) of Daniel Craig, as JB – I think what they say, and I agree, is that he brings some kind of, there’s one word and I can’t think of it – so I’ll say gritty realism, which is to say that it isn’t like the real world, but less cartoonish than what Bond had been, it’s like a regular action movie (versus a James Bond movie). He gets into serious movie fist fights, there real (movie) pain when people get hurt and die – I’m thinking, in contrast, of an earlier Bond where there’s a fight, Bond is losing and then he throws some liquid into the face of the indestructible bad guy who, surprisingly, falls down dead, we see that the liquid is Bond’s urine sample, but then the bad guy (having fallen) is revealed to have all sorts of broken glass (from the lab) stuck (as improbably as the killer urine) in his back.

    Anyway, what I really liked were the stories you two told about failing calculus reading the Bond books.

    I’m surprised (if I heard right) that Mickey didn’t like the women, they certainly passed the test of being ridiculously good looking (the Robin Byrd standard) thinking of Ursula Andress coming out of the sea but also a pair Bambi and Thumper – one with a secret cassette in her bikini bottom.

    I also really liked the – for the love of it, her love of it (not the students) story, I would have thought the idea that Mickey couldn’t bring himself to attend was a little over the top (like the urine) except I, who took it all much too seriously, had a similar teacher, I think he had medical (substance?) problems, old guy, Form and Analysis class, he would stand at the board holding chalk to write something, shaking. He would give us assignments like “take a piece of paper, put on a time signature” and something meaningless, at least as I remember it, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

    They also let me graduate, a very long story and I’m out of time – but my private lesson teacher also had a medical problem (nervous breakdown we called it at the time, he self medicated with alcohol) he was a very cool, nice, overall, GREAT guy. Anyway, he assured me a certain teacher would be fine on my jury and he wasn’t – at graduation I got a black folder with “Sorry” written inside, instead of a diploma.

    I told the school I’d be happy to come back to have those lessons made up and try again, but I wouldn’t pay – somehow they found a way to send me a diploma – at least I think so, it’s still unopened in the mailing tube, sitting proudly over my father’s fireplace.

    If you know someone who’d like to buy a Master’s degree, low price, never been used…

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