I just watched
Diary of a City Priest, a DVD I'd finally located (used, former rental copy, licensed but no case or artwork, man this thing was hard to find) after a year or so of poking around. It's hardly a blockbuster, but it was a moderately interesting look at both the day-to-day realities and the inner life of a middle-aged Catholic priest in
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Oh, and while for some reason he entirely fails to ping my hot-o-meter, I have come to a conclusion watching Profit: Adrian Pasdar should never be allowed to wear clothes again. His body is truly awe-inspiring in the proper sense of the word. Why I'm not hot for him, I honestly cannot tell you, but he needs to be naked at all times.
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http://www.govindagallery.com/pages/exhibitions/seliger_05/seliger_gallery/images/david_bowie.jpg
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Sorry. Lost control for a moment. Mr. Bowie has that effect on me.
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And I'm right with you on Pasdar. I like him, but I don't particularly lust after him. He's one of those people I think I'd really enjoy meeting and just chatting with for a while. And if he happened to be shirtless -- or better yet, naked -- at the time, well. It would be rude not to look, now wouldn't it? *beams*
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I think the theme here is an air of authority. That mesmerizing charisma, you know? By the way I am so right there with you about David Bowie.
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I have ALWAYS had a crush on Sam Neill, and he was fabulous in Ivanhoe, wasn't he? In fact, we borrowed a whole bunch of A&E stuff from a friend, and one of them was (a different) version of Ivanhoe, and it was in no way as wonderful as that one with Anthony Andrews and Olivia Hussey and SAM NEILL, and I really want to get that one to see again but I don't know where or how I possibly can.
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And, to let you in on an unexpected bonus of your post, I was just googling The Sting and came across the New York Times review for it. Although the following comment was surely intended to prompt discussion on a number of gender issues in media, it also sounds a bit like the film was so freakin' slashy that the reviewer felt compelled to defend its heterosexuality:
"The Sting" is not the kind of film that takes its women very seriously, and the continuing popularity of these male-male co-starring teams should, I suppose, probably prompt some solemn analysis.
It is not, I suspect, a terrible perversion of the romantic movie-team concept idealized by William Powell and Myrna Loy, Clark Gable and Lana Turner but, rather, a variation on the old Dr. Gillespie-Dr. Kildare relationship, with a bit of Laurel and Hardy thrown in.
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HAHAHA! Terrible perversion! Hah! Lone Ranger and Tonto, Batman and Robin...Butch and Sundance, etc. ...there's a very long list.
Ray: "Does this conversation sound strangely familiar to you?"
Fraser: "Oddly, yes."
I love that you pointed this out. :)
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I <3 you, spuffyduds.
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