There’s lots of ugly in this world, and it’s no surprise that it gets talked about a lot more than the beautiful things in life. (Hell, it’s the love of ugly in the media the big reason why we hear more about violence and Donald Trump as opposed to good, happy news and a likable and qualified presidential candidate–is there one, by the way?) So I’m gonna take the time to appreciate a couple of beautiful things in this life–one currently in play, the other a bundle of lovely, unforgettable memories.
The SF Giants right now are a mess, and not of the hot, fun, Bai Ling kind. (If the team wants to get to that level, they need to start striking pseudo-fap poses to the paparazzi like what Miss Ling classily did recently. If they can’t make it to the postseason this year, this shit needs to happen. In fact, screw another World Series run; I’d kill for a snap of Madison Bumgarner faux-rubbing one off, complete with hot O-face.) Guys going down at the worst possible time, losing close games, blowing leads, and those ingrate Dodgers that keep on (I HATE to say this) winning and getting away with the division.
One of the team’s most significant player losses is a name who hasn’t played in months, and was expected to return by the start of this month. This name just happens to be one of my ex-boos: Tim Lincecum. The reports of him having season-ending hip surgery showed not only that things really can get more shitty for the Giants and their fans, but that The Freak (his nickname given to him for his unusual but crazy-efficient delivery and hippie appearance) can be mortal, after all.
And it’s just sad. I was really rooting for him to make a comeback this year, and show everyone that he still had it. And he did show that in some of his first games of the season. Hell, there was a time when it was him and Bummy as the two best pitchers on the team. It may sound laughable now considering Timmy’s pitching later on in the season, but maybe it’s wrong to laugh at it altogether. Looking back at those quality starts in April, May, and the first part of June, it may have been the last times we’ve seen Timmy bring back shades of the The Freak. And it is there that us fans of Timmy and the team should appreciate greatly. Especially after seeing how he struggled last year (and the year before, and the year before that), and how he truly wanted to turn things around this year.
One of the beautiful things in baseball is the Pitcher’s Duel–those tight, low-scoring, high-strikeout showdowns where the Pitch is mightier than the Bat. It’s great when your pitcher wins it, and how many of those has Timmy been a part of? Though it has been over four years since I last saw my ex-boo pitch in person, it was that one game (in May against the Dbacks in SF) that just happened to be a Pitcher’s Duel. No runs against him, and (I believe) nine Ks.
It’s also coincidence that when he lived up to that Freak nickname, he looked like something I wanted to freak up and down with. With no shame.
(THIS I would.)
Timmy and his game of old was quite a beautiful thing. It was him and solely him that really got me into baseball (which is all the more reason why PE/sports classes should NEVER be cut from schools, ’cause you never know if that kid that gets into baseball goes pro and gets successful and also happens to look like a Playgirl centerfold), and I can never forget that. Yes, there are reasons why he’s now my “ex-boo” and, nope, I just can’t hit it anymore like I used to–not even a sympathy hit-it, unless if he grows his hair back and shaves that ‘stache of his. Oh, and pitch 12Ks for 8 1/2 innings ten times when he comes back (for the Giants, of course). But maybe his boner-killing look was a little blessing; it made me appreciate Timmy more as an athlete, and less of a heartthrob that wussy me once stanned for, even when he lost 10-3 and gave up 6 runs in the first inning. And isn’t it a beautiful thing when one can appreciate someone for what they can do as opposed to if their looks get your panties in a bind? (Look, pa, I’m maturing!)
You know what I noticed in some of the actors that were hot in the 90s and 00s? They all went to crap, both in looks and personality. There’s Brad Pitt, who’s looking more like the scarecrow I saw at my local pumpkin patch last year. (Guess if that scarecrow can actually scare off crows, then I’ll doll my scarecrow up as today’s Brad Pitt, as part of my Halloween decorations this year. Because I hate crows.) There’s George Clooney, who used to be all about keeping a private life and now is fameho-ing it up with the broomstick he calls his wife. Here’s Ben Affleck now. (Yep, that’s all you need to know.) And there’s Johnny Depp, former ruler of my heart and libido that now never fails to get my panties dry and me repulsed with almost every move of his. These bitches used to be beautiful, dammit.
Which is all the more reason why I’m all too grateful for the graceful, ageless presence of (get ready for it…get ready for it…) Keanu Reeves. I’m happy to see that he’s still happening, 30 years after his start in Hollyweird. He’s one of the few actors/celebs today that seemingly has his head on straight, is not a fame whore in anyway, and knows that actual definition of “private” in “private life.” *side-eyes George* He’s also one of the few that has aged wonderfully. *side-eyes all actors mentioned in paragraph above* The stud just turned 51 a few days ago. Fifty-fucking-one! To wit, here’s how he looks today…
And here’s Johnny, just a year older than him, also taken earlier this week…
And while much has been made of Keanu’s acting, I’ll tell you this: I enjoy his work. I could care less if others think he’s no good at what he does. (And I’ll let you know that a few of his nay-sayers at a gossip website I frequent happen to have “crushes”–like, actual, I-cream-my-panties-for-these-sexy-beings crushes–on assholes like Sean Penn and Shia LeBeouf. Yeah, I’m going “whaaaa?!” over it too.) I liked almost all the movies I’ve seen from him so far (I say “almost” because that “Johnny Neurotic”–typo and it stays–flick was a mess to watch. A fun mess, though.). And I much rather would take an actor who at least entertains me and has a good soul in real life, as opposed to favoring an actor who can supposedly act…but happens to be a total cunt asshole in real life or has been so in the past. Plus, look what he once did with his movie money! This kind of act that would make the little bitty brains of the Kuntrashians explode. (In this case, maybe Keanu should do something like this right in the front of that cunt klan, so they can finally be rid of from this Earth for good! But who am I kidding; the beauty of Keanu is so immense, that just walking past by them–Jessica Lange-style, of course–would make their faces melt and ass implants explode out of being unable to take such beauty.)
I can also not forget some of the hardships my man (shut up, I know the truth) faced in his life. His father abandoning him when he was just a baby. His sister contracting cancer. Him losing both his one child and his girlfriend in the same year. To another, that would warp the mind tenfold. But somehow he’s managed to maintain class throughout adversity. Nevertheless, he’s considered to be one of the “most hated men in Hollywood.”
Hor me still would with him in that pic.
The same site that offered you such knowledgable clickbait has given us this golden nugget as well:
I may like Sharon Stone, but here’s some crap she said recently. SheBudgets.com, you misspelled “grumpily” in your hard-hitting headline there.
As much as I adore the hell out of Keanu, I refuse to be too doting over him. I say this given some of the celebs I’ve followed for years and once adored to no ends, only to see them turn into repulsive train wrecks, thus having me question my love for them in the first place. Who knows if one day he may suddenly 180 on us and turn into a nutjob. He may make a stupid remark. He may start hanging out with the likes of champion creeps Terry Richardson or Justin Beaver (intentional typo). (This matters, OK? It’s like suddenly seeing two piles of shit littered on the shores of a secluded Hawaiian beach, and no one bothers to clean it up.) He may hook up with a no-talent fame whore and marry her. Or maybe he won’t do any of those things. He may just remain the same, serene piece of fappable wonder, unlikely to be tainted by absurdity or malice of any sort. It is this that makes us
psycho loonies fans of him all the more thankful that he’s still around and still the same guy he’s been for years. Keanu can school some of these young celebs how to be a real star, and they’d still flunk his class. His one-of-a-kind gracefulness is something you can’t teach.
May this man never make me regret a nice word I’ve spoken of him. Seriously, that better not happen, or else that’s one more bit of ugly in this world that doesn’t deserve more of it.