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I have a friend who's a devotee of Quentin Tarantino and who somehow
talked me into watching many of his films. Being the squeamish sort,
I prefer sex to violence. Now that I think of it, I believe I'd
prefer sex to violence even if I wasn't the squeamish sort. But I
digress. And I'm nowhere near the point of this post.
Anyway, after months of ignoring it, I finally put my friend's
Kill Bill DVD in for a viewing. And I was transfixed at what
Tarantino had accomplished. He had me from the opening credits, which
were accompanied by a (you should pardon the expression) dead on cover
of
Sonny
& Cher's Bang, Bang from this very album, Nancy
Sinatra's second. Which also offers
The
Last Of The Secret Agents, the title song of a
forgettable
movie starring the comedy stylings of Marty Allen and Steve Rossi.
Who are themselves largely forgotten. But not by Denny Hammerton,
whose tribute website recalls
their 60s catchphrase. And
not by me; this post has me just dripping with nostalgia for my
preteen years. Which like all good nostalgia has forgotten just how
unpleasant those years were. But I digress. Twice in one post!
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