Beaver Squee
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Okay, I’ll admit it: I like a man with some facial hair, preferably a full beard. I remember the instant my husband grew one I made him promise never to shave it off. I like me a bearded man, don’t care if it’s well-groomed or Civil War era hirsute.
So it’s no surprise that I’m having some major joyful squee when it comes to Jim Beaver’s continuing role on Supernatural. Some of you already know the flailing that I’m capable of when I think about Deadwood/Supernatural crossovers. But I’d watch Jim Beaver wash his dishes or trim his toenails. The man is that fascinating. Seriously.
I got it bad.
And I have a couple of marketing ideas tucked away - I want a Jim Beaver keychain. I want a Bobby Singer bobblehead doll AND a Ellsworth bobblehead doll. Shit, I want a Rumsfeld the Rottweiler bobblehead.
But joyful squee aside, the character of Bobby Singer makes Supernatural that much better. Here’s why: the boys need him. As the ever-prescient jmm0001 says, Bobby Singer has the potential to become Giles to our Buffy-boys. Well, she didn’t put it exactly like that, but still. Here he is, grizzled and taciturn, introduced by an image of him facing the ever-dangerous and equally grizzled and taciturn John Winchester with a shotgun in his scrapmonger's hands. But there's so much more: Bobby, good ol’ boy, grease-stained cap, heavy flannels, big dogs, scrap yard and hubcaps, that Bobby, has a house full of fucking books.
If it’s something I like better than a little whisker, it’s a learned man.
And not just ANY books, no. These are hard-to-read books, books in ancient languages, books that are probably just dangerous in and of themselves. I betcha anything that Bobby Singer LIKES to read. Sigh.
I confess to also adoring the Bobby character because of knowing the Ellsworth character. In case you didn’t catch Deadwood (and really, do yourselves a favour and get the DVDs and watch the whole fucking thing because it’s brilliant, brilliant, brilliant - and there’s loads of facial hair), Jim Beaver’s character on that was so dangerous and so noble and so sweet it made you want to name an ice cream flavour after him. The screen shone whenever he walked on, and that’s actually saying something, given the theatrics and sheer profanity around him. No spoilers, but he was the emotional heart of the show, and the nexus of finale action.
Back to Bobby Singer for a moment, if I may. Those Winchester boys have precious few shelters. We fans like it that way, but they need one or two soft spots to land. They deserve it. And, since the fandom in general seems to have little stomach for a Mary Sue or anything more than a one-night stand, we could do worse than grizzled and taciturn bearded men (oh, be quiet back there, slashgirls). I’d go on at length about Ellen and how much I like her, but she doesn’t have a beard. Or a houseful of books.
And she’s not played by Jim Beaver.
--
Okay, I’ll admit it: I like a man with some facial hair, preferably a full beard. I remember the instant my husband grew one I made him promise never to shave it off. I like me a bearded man, don’t care if it’s well-groomed or Civil War era hirsute.
So it’s no surprise that I’m having some major joyful squee when it comes to Jim Beaver’s continuing role on Supernatural. Some of you already know the flailing that I’m capable of when I think about Deadwood/Supernatural crossovers. But I’d watch Jim Beaver wash his dishes or trim his toenails. The man is that fascinating. Seriously.
I got it bad.
And I have a couple of marketing ideas tucked away - I want a Jim Beaver keychain. I want a Bobby Singer bobblehead doll AND a Ellsworth bobblehead doll. Shit, I want a Rumsfeld the Rottweiler bobblehead.
But joyful squee aside, the character of Bobby Singer makes Supernatural that much better. Here’s why: the boys need him. As the ever-prescient jmm0001 says, Bobby Singer has the potential to become Giles to our Buffy-boys. Well, she didn’t put it exactly like that, but still. Here he is, grizzled and taciturn, introduced by an image of him facing the ever-dangerous and equally grizzled and taciturn John Winchester with a shotgun in his scrapmonger's hands. But there's so much more: Bobby, good ol’ boy, grease-stained cap, heavy flannels, big dogs, scrap yard and hubcaps, that Bobby, has a house full of fucking books.
If it’s something I like better than a little whisker, it’s a learned man.
And not just ANY books, no. These are hard-to-read books, books in ancient languages, books that are probably just dangerous in and of themselves. I betcha anything that Bobby Singer LIKES to read. Sigh.
I confess to also adoring the Bobby character because of knowing the Ellsworth character. In case you didn’t catch Deadwood (and really, do yourselves a favour and get the DVDs and watch the whole fucking thing because it’s brilliant, brilliant, brilliant - and there’s loads of facial hair), Jim Beaver’s character on that was so dangerous and so noble and so sweet it made you want to name an ice cream flavour after him. The screen shone whenever he walked on, and that’s actually saying something, given the theatrics and sheer profanity around him. No spoilers, but he was the emotional heart of the show, and the nexus of finale action.
Back to Bobby Singer for a moment, if I may. Those Winchester boys have precious few shelters. We fans like it that way, but they need one or two soft spots to land. They deserve it. And, since the fandom in general seems to have little stomach for a Mary Sue or anything more than a one-night stand, we could do worse than grizzled and taciturn bearded men (oh, be quiet back there, slashgirls). I’d go on at length about Ellen and how much I like her, but she doesn’t have a beard. Or a houseful of books.
And she’s not played by Jim Beaver.
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