Who is your celebrity crush? Why?
Again with the celebrity questions. Haven’t we already hashed and rehashed the fact that I don’t know nor care about your celebrities? I don’t know who half of them are or why they are celebrities in the first place. I don’t know them; they don’t know me. They wouldn’t come over to my house on a Tuesday night to play poker. They wouldn’t come pick me up in Bakersfield at 4AM if my car died. They are not my friends.
Most celebrities are probably insane anyway. You have to be a little on the crazy side to want to go out and perform in front of people. Personally, I can imagine no worse fate than being on display. I don’t even like going to zoos. They make me sad to see all those animals living their lives in public view, but at least the celebrities chose their fate, unlike the zoo animals. I don’t feel sorry for celebrities since that’s the life they chose.
So, with all the blathering and I don’t cares out of the way, I do have some celebrity crushes from back in the day when men were men, but they’re all dead or impossibly old now, and consequently, not so crushable. I find this new breed of Hollywood stars to be ridiculous. I already wrote about sissy Hollywood movie stars in the post 10 Things I Hate, so I’ll just copy from there:
“Two words: Robert Mitchum. Name one star working in Hollywood today who’s comparable. Yes, there’s Clint Eastwood, but he’s like 90 now. And we still have Russell Crowe, but by and large, the masculine, manly stars of yesteryear, the Bogarts, Mitchums and McQueens, have all been replaced by girlie, hairless mini-men. Hollywood is populated by Lilliputian, teenage-looking, effeminate boys whose voices are higher and whose hair is longer than mine. Even their names are laughable: Leonardo, Orlando and Shia. Really? Where did all the testosterone go?”
It’s not just movie stars either. This emo, boy-band nonsense is pervasive. I’m very tired of these androgynous, pretty boy idiots that you see in everything from music to movies. I wish they would all take a long walk off a short pier. To quote myself again from the post If I Were In Charge…:
“If you are a supposedly heterosexual dude and you’re girlier than me, if your name sounds like a French pastry, if you’ve ever sung in a boy band, if your 90 year-old grandfather has more testosterone than you, if I can beat you up (and I’m a girl), you have to die. Sorry. Those are the rules. I don’t make them up. OK, in this case, I actually did, but it’s still a good rule.”