Dreaming of George Clooney

Let's get something straight. I'm straight. It just so happens I can't get George out of my mind. Why? Because I'm a romantic, an adventurer, a bit of a scoundrel, a scriptwriter, and a raconteur, if you will - and I'm in love with George.

Not really in love with George, actually. Not really.

You see, I had a dream about him the other night, but I'm certain this doesn't indicate certain tendencies. I've been around for some time and nothing like that has ever come up, in a matter of speaking. I certainly didn't dream of George in that way, either.

It was George and Brad actually — in the dream — and myself. We three, we band of brotherly hell-raisers.

George has made Hollywood fun again. This might come as a shock to many. Hollywood = not fun? It might be that you'd mistaken the oft cited frolicking, which does go on, 24 hours a day, (as mandated by city charter) with “fun.” That's understandable. The media has completely clouded the fine distinction between fun and frolicking.

The former is achieved by people who know what life is really all about. The latter is attempted by an unending stream of idiots - many with their heads stuck so far up their a** they're catching glimpses of daylight out the other side as they mumble incoherently in the glare of camera lights on how they’re victims of some sort. I'm certain I don't need to name names here. We can all chant them by rote.

George has shown everyone how to be mature, engaged in the world, and still manage to get Danny DeVito stinking drunk in the wee hours of the morning before his appearance on The View.

Real men can pull that off. Metrosexuals need not attempt.

The dream was innocent enough, or so I think. Some of my boys are dubious about its possible meaning. I've noted a significant decrease in guy hugs, guy pats-on-the-back, or guy fake tackles either of the a) standing-around-waiting-for-something-to-happen variety or b) passing-one-another-in-the-hallway kind. This is understandable.

On the Serengeti Plain that is a man's psyche when the breezes suddenly seem to shift, one stands still and scents the air. You'll see the same reaction in us if the cable company suddenly mixes up the channel order. It can be tense times when the order of things even suggests a certain askew-ness.

Article Author: Marlowe

"You have a somewhat peculiar sense of humor,” he said.
"Not peculiar," I said. "Just uninhibited."

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