Le Samourai

Ass-Headed Bottom: Eh. I repeat: eh.

Slothrop: So at first I wasn't sure if Ass-Head was the tin-man, the scarecrow, the cowardly lion, or a munchkin. Turns out he's a Frankenstienian amalgamation of all of them, not even worth Delon's birdseed, let alone the bird. 

Koko: Here, here, Slothy. Because he spends his ass-headed mornings in the company of dreaded courtiers and assorted literary vagrants circa 1600, Dr. Bottom knows no solitude and is, therefore, wholly incapable of appreciating, much less embodying, the warrior principle of a tiger in the jungle. Nay, he is a donkey; his chosen domain lies among libraries and linoleum halls.

Slothrop: Koko knows sign language; therefore she, too, is right. But so allow Slothrop to get biographical for a moment here, please, in order to inform our dedicated readers that he bought a spaceship with money borrowed from Boris at a supremely usurious rate for the single purpose of getting just a little closer to unadulterated beauty. Those who have cock and pussy clamoring after it, know that when it comes to beauty, bigger is in fact more beautiful. And in many-a years that Slothrop's been a' watching his moving pictures, few have been more interested in beauty for its own sake as has Le Samourai and the bird. That ass-head reacted with such indifference is telling. As Mark Twain wisely warned, those looking for a moral should be shot. I'd take it one step further and tie him down and make him watch Dangerous Minds on endless repeat if he wouldn't enjoy it so much. What the fuck am I talking about? It's this: ass-head's style is to have none. 

Ass-Headed Bottom: Did I say "eh"? I meant "zzz..."

Ass-Headed Bottom: And look, it seems to me that you two are mistaking a tiger-hide throw-rug for the real creature, the one with organs, ferocity, metabolism, the instinct for play, the one that hunts not because hunting is beautiful but because hunger is deadly. But tigers remain cool despite mid-century French cinema and its poached metaphors. As for Mark Twain, he needn't shoot those of us looking for morals; he can simply show us this movie until we succumb to its superlative vacuity. This is an Audrey Hepburn movie for alpha-males. And I'm gonna kick your ass at pool, Slothrop. Grr...