Tag Archives: brad pitt

feb 5

feb 5
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I love you, Jon Stewart.  You are funny and handsome and grey in the right places.  You make me laugh at the most maddening instances of ridiculous puritanism and conservative rhetoric garbage.   You are normal and down to earth and self deprecating and smart.  Brad Pitt was on your show the other week.  I liked Moneyball.  I still think you are hotter.

Signed me.

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There is a reason epics are long

There is a reason epics are long
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I’m a sucker for an epic with ancient Greek battle gear.  In our house, Greek and Roman mythology is a topic often discussed.  My kids were well familiar with the gods long before they were familiar with God.

It is my husband that knows all about this – I will admit, I know nothing or next to.  But I’m first in line for men wearing a skirt and a breastplate.

So this past rainy weekend, we watched ‘Troy’.

Eric Bana is in it.  He is one of those actors who should be way more popular than Brad Pitt, who by the way is also in ‘Troy’.

Bana is Hector.  He is a prince and he’s perfect.  Works for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pitt is Achilles.

Achilles or Brad Pitt – one of them is annoying, I’m not sure which one.  Is it just me or does Brad Pitt suck?

 

 

 

 

Add to this smorgasbord of male actors one Orlando Bloom.

He is good fun as Paris.  He starts the ball rolling by falling for Helen, schtooping her and bringing her back to Troy.  After that, he looks really nervous or scared a lot and he doesn’t wear shirts.

I like that a pretty boy actor would take a not-so-attractive role.  Paris – in this version – is a complete wimp.

And there is Odysseus.  Odysseus is -

sigh Sean Bean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is better than ‘Lord of the Rings’.  Isn’t this supposed to be a movie about the most exquisite Helen yet yowsa look another beefy dude.

It is distracting.  This is a complicated plot for someone as unschooled in Greek mythology as I.  My mind wanders, as Sean Bean and I stare out at the ocean from our summer holiday cabin in the middle of nowhere or Eric Bana holds my hand (I hate flying) and soothes me as we land safely at the Sydney airport – I’m going to meet his parents.

I shake my head and come back and wonder:  Who is Agamemnon again?  I balance on my new yellow exercise ball a little longer and Odysseus flashes his Sharpe’s grin and I decide:  who cares?

 

 

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