Poet William Carlos Williams once wrote, “To kiss Danny Glover is to be stroked by the moustache of God.” There was more, but the Shoney’s napkin it was inscribed upon was too smudged to make out any further musings. Regardless, I think the holocaust allegory is clear enough for us to glean his meaning, if not gleam his cube.
It does makes me wonder, however, as so many non sequiturs do, what it’s like to be Steve Zahn: Professional Sidekick. I imagine that exact title is printed on his business card alongside a picture of him from Resuce Dawn. Or Happy, Texas. He looked pretty much the same in both, really. Though I imagine it’s a lot more bearable to play second banana to a Bale than a Northam. That might have been rough. Yet we cry not for Steve. No. life’s not all bad for the Zahnster. Man was in Bandidas. As fine an achievement as ever there was. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that I could make a fairly compelling argument for Bandidas being the greatest work in the history of cinema.
Well, that or Airborne, 1993’s love letter to inline skating. Either/or.
I took a nice five-minute break between that sentence and this one. Passed the time by singing “Mahna Mahna” to myself and wondering how the Muppets would go about adapting Tristram Shandy. Perhaps Fozzie as Uncle Toby? As always, I leave the dream-casting to you, dear readers.
Let us close this entry, then, as it began, with another choice quotation. This time from famed Abraham Lincoln historian Carl Sandburg on the inexplicable nature of desire: “Oh, yeah. I’d totally bang Illeana Douglas. Any day. I’m not saying she’s at the top of my celebrity “To-Do” list, but if the opportunity arose, I would plow her right atop Nicole Kidman’s icy grave. I guess I’ve just always been a romantic.”