Hubby is intently watching James Coburn in “Our Man Flint.”
In the scene he is watching, Flint encounters an erstwhile woman friend/agent, staring glassy-eyed straight ahead and repeating (in a Russian accent, or anyway in what self thinks might be a Russian accent), “It is an honor to offer my body for the pleasure of the galaxy.”
Flint then says, “Repeat after me: I am not a pleasure unit.”
The friend/automaton repeats Flint’s line. Then Flint snaps his fingers. Voila! Female friend is immediately freed from eternal bondage to the galaxy.
But, she still has to pretend she is a “pleasure unit.” So she joins a line of other marching pleasure units (attired in a bright red bikini).
“Pleasure Unit 736!” calls out a male voice.
Flint’s friend moves forward with an expression of utter joy and gladness, as if ready to fulfill the desires of the galaxy.
Meanwhile, Flint continues his exploration of the pleasure palace and finds himself in a room designed to resemble a drive-in. He circles among the parked cars (all convertibles, with the tops down), saying to the female occupants: “You are not a pleasure unit.” Upon which, all the women in the parked cars snap to it and get out of the cars and embrace each other with joy and gladness. A short time later, the freed women escape from the evil place by getting into steel drums that Flint then seals and pushes into the ocean, where they are later retrieved by an American ship.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.