This is Andersoon Cooper. I love him because, because, because…
…of that gray hair.
…of those eyes!
…I imagine that he and I could be BFFs? Based solely on the fact that we could totally riff on everything pop culture? I don’t know. I just feel it. Does that count for anything?
…of photos like the one above. All of AC’s pics look the same. He looks like a matinee idol. Like he’s posing for Matinee Idol Weekly, which is not a real magazine, but should be.
…when he went to New Orleans to report on Katrina, or when he went to Haiti to report on the earthquake, I didn’t get that another-reporter-searching-for-ratings vibe. He waded through water and walked through the rubble and I just somehow felt his sincerity. It’s a big word to use for someone in the media, but that’s just what I felt in those moments.
…he seems like a nice guy.
Speaking of Matinee Idol Weekly, my ideas for those who would grace the cover of this fake magazine, starting with the inaugural issue:
Is it any wonder? Cary Grant. If there was ever an embodiment of the dashing, classy, handsome matinee idol, here you go. (See The Philadelphia Story. One of my top 10 favorite films. Of ALL time. Yeah.)
The number 2 cover. Clark Gable. Dashing, classy, handsome matinee idol. Just like above. There’s no difference between the two, really. I’m personally convinced that Cary Grant and Clark Gable were one and the same. Were they ever in the same room at the same time? I challenge someone to dispute this. (See Gone With the Wind. Scarlett O’Hara, to me, is the most annoying character to inhabit the screen, but I have to admit that I truly enjoyed the movie, solely because of Mr. Gable.)
My love for him knows no bounds, as has been discussed. Paul Newman, sigh. (I invariably sigh after either writing or saying his name.) I love him. Sorry, future hubby. We will be sharing our lives with this man. (See Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, which will stoke the Paul Newman fires. And to make it better, it’s a beautifully acted, beautifully complex film based on a Tennessee Williams play. Excellent, excellent.)
The picture above? Says it all. Denzel. I heard someone say once that if Denzel Washington were a nobody, a simple guy walking down the street, no one would care. I can arguably and honestly say that if he were a nobody, a simple guy walking down the street, I would follow him to his destination. And once we reach said destination, my love would be professed. There. (See The Pelican Brief, Much Ado About Nothing, GLORY, John Q, Deja Vu, GLORY…to understand the Denzel love and eternal admiration for his raging talent. And, um, his strut. Yikes, it’s powerful.)
Seriously, he’s the Grant/Gable of this generation. Clooney. I mean…wow. (See Ocean’s Eleven-Thirteen for overwhelming proof of the previous statement.)
What can I say? Robert Redford. His nickname, at one point in time, was The Golden Boy. The Golden Boy. He will also be sharing a life with my future hubby, myself, and Newman. Sorry again, future honey. And the fact that Newman and Redford were in two films together—heavenly casting, really. (See The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Way We Were, Barefoot in the Park, The Electric Horseman, All the President’s Men...and fall in love, one scene at a time.)
Perhaps there’s a way to get them all on the cover? Every month? Can someone come up with this magazine? Anna Wintour? Anyone?
Um, this ends this crazy, entertainment-y post. Happy Monday.