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Are the real Ian Flemming James Bond books really this based and worth reading? The covers for the 2000's Penguin reprints look really aesthetically nice.

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@Stoner Metal Are the real Ian Flemming James Bond books really this based and worth reading? The covers for the 2000's Penguin reprints look really aesthetically nice.

I actually have some of those Penguin reprints (6 or 7, I'd like them all) and I read bunch of them in summer 2020. I can attest to how based they are. The phonetic speech for some of the black characters in Live & Let Die was genuinely hilarious and would never fly today. I'm honestly surprised they were reprinted, even back then.



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There's a photo of MLK hugging his wife. It's supposed to be that, but only their arms.
But depending on the angle, it looks like him eating her out, her holding his massive dick, or her holding an enormous turd.

Artists, man
You mean the wife he cheated on, and who (allegedly) cheated on him?

Holding a turd seems perfectly descriptive. I applaud the artist's candor.
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Good thing islam its a feminist religion, or so I been told by radfems.
The absolute state of finngols. Worst part is he actually has a chad-ish face unlike most incels, so he could at least get an asian chick.
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Would be much better with a way smaller moon in the crown and like 1/3 of the stars. Only a dumb bimbo like this would agree to wear all this shit in public.

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Are the real Ian Flemming James Bond books really this based and worth reading? The covers for the 2000's Penguin reprints look really aesthetically nice.
Yes. They're trash but really fun trash. They're also terribly dated but as pointed out, in ways that make it funny if you aren't a butthurt SJW.
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>Turn Velma into a nigger.
>Bitch can't math.
Now that's accurate representation.
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She's ackshually a Pajeet in this version, because she is a thinly veiled self-insert for Mindy Kaling, the show's creator. Which honestly makes it even more egregious.

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This excerpt is not a picture, but there would be no benefit to a screenshot of the same text.

Live and Let Die, Ian Fleming CHAPTER V - NIGGER HEAVEN

Bond picked up the menu and leant back in the booth, studying the Special Fried Chicken Dinner at $3.75.

'Cmon, honey,' wheedled the girl. 'How come yuh-all's actin' so tahd tonight?'

'Guess ah jist nacherlly gits tahd listenin' at yuh,' said the man languidly. 'Why'nt yuh hush yo' mouff'n let me 'joy mahself 'n peace 'n qui-yet.'

'Is yuh wan' me tuh go 'way, honey?'

'Yuh kin suit yo sweet self.'

'Aw, honey,' pleaded the girl. 'Don' ack mad at me, honey. Ah was fixin' tuh treat yuh tonight. Take yuh tuh Smalls Par'dise, mebbe. See dem high-yallers shakin' 'n truckin'. Dat Birdie Johnson, da maitre d', he permis me a ringside whenebber Ah come nex'.'

The man's voice suddenly sharpened. 'Wha' dat Birdie he mean tuh yuh, hey?' he asked suspiciously. Terzackly,' he paused to let the big word sink in, 'perzackly wha' goes'tween yuh 'n dat lowdown ornery wuthless Nigguh? Yuh sleepin' wid him mebbe? Guess Ah gotta study 'bout dat little situayshun'tween yuh an' Birdie Johnson. Mebbe git mahself a betterer gal. Ah jist don' lak gals which runs off ever' which way when Ah jist happen be busticated tem-poraneously. Yesmam. Ah gotta study 'bout dat little situayshun.' He paused threateningly. 'Sure have,' he added.

'Aw, honey,' the girl was anxious. ' 'dey ain't no use tryin' tuh git mad at me. Ah done nuthen tuh give yuh recasion tuh ack dat way. Ah jist thunk you mebbe preshiate a ringside at da Par'disc 'nstead of settin' hyah countin' yo troubles. Why, honey, yuh all knows Ah wudden fall fo' dat richcrat ack' of Birdie Johnson. No sir. He don' mean nuthen tuh me. Him duh wusstes' man 'n Harlem , dawg bite me effn he ain't. All da same, he permis me da bestess seats 'nda house 'n Ah sez let's us go set 'n dem, 'n have us a beer 'n a good time. Gmon, honey. Let's git out of hyah. Yuh done look so swell 'n Ah jist wan' mah frens tuh see usn together.'

'Yuh done look okay yoself, honeychile,' said the man, mollified by the tribute to his elegance, 'an' dat's da troof. But Ah mus' spressify dat yuh stays close up tuh me an keeps yo eyes offn dat lowdown trash 'n his hot pants. 'N Ah may say,' he added threateningly,' dat ef Ah ketches yuh makin' up tuh dat dope Ah'll jist nachrally whup da hide off'n yo sweet ass.'

'Shoh ting, honey,' whispered the girl excitedly.

Bond heard the man's foot scrape off the seat to the ground.

'Cmon, baby, lessgo. Waiduh!'

Bond put down the menu. 'Got the gist of it,' he said. 'Seems they're interested in much the same things as everyone else - sex, having fun, and keeping up with the Jones's. Thank God they're not genteel about it.'
 
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