Let’s All Be James Bond
I watched the first episode of VH1’s “The Pick Up Artist” a couple days ago. It’s not a good show per se; it’s a “reality show,” not a documentary. But it is relevant to my interest.
At the beginning, there was a running “joke” with the name of the Indian guy on the show: white people had trouble pronouncing it. It wasn’t funny and it got old quick. The name wasn’t even that difficult to say.
My aunts did the right thing by giving me and my sister “American” names when we moved to this country. (They are legal names. Our Chinese names are now kind of our middle names.) I don’t want to waste time repeating myself.
Anyway.
More awesomely, there’s a Chinese guy on the show, from Portland, OR! He’s only slightly older than me. Represent!
When asked how would he want his life to look if he can be anybody in the world, he responded with “I want to be like Jame Bond.” Good answer. The perfect answer actually. A+.
But, you are doing it wrong. Here are some tips.
PROTIP #1: James Bond doesn’t wear a green t-shirt with a cartoon bear on it. Have you ever seen Bond wear an ill-fitting or ill-matching outfit? Dude’s shirt doesn’t even wrinkle after he fist-rape some bad guys’ faces.
PROTIP #2: Stop your nervous gestures. That kind of shit probably get James Bond killed. Fortunately, he doesn’t do them. (”A freakin’ lazer pointed at my crotch? What-the-fuck-ever amirite?”) But you do.
PROTIP #3: Lose some weight. You are Chinese for Mao’s sake!
PROTIP #4: If you can manage it, don’t be Chinese. Or Asian. Name one Asian male sex symbol in the U.S. media. You can’t. Neither can any women in this country.
If there are any women reading this and have seen the show: what do you think of it?