Sunday, January 22, 2012

And the Golden Globe goes to...

George Clooney for best actor in The Descendants.

Reading just doesn't include novels, memoirs, non-fiction and cereal boxes but magazines as well.

Talking on the phone other than for work is a task that has found it's way onto my communication scrap heap, along with fax machines and postage stamps but during a  rare phone conversation last night, a dear friend and fellow reader suggested I read an interview of George Clooney in the January edition of Esquire.

Although apprehensive to read it  as I'm not a big Clooney fan, his movies are slowing growing on me. Up in the Air was fantastic as was The American and who can forget his leading role in the Coen Bros. movie, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, so I thought well, we'll see.

With Sunday morning coming down, I wandered aimlessly through a local used book store picking up a first edition of a Stephen Ambrose book called,  The Supreme Commander: The War Years of Dwight D. Eisenhower and a signed copy of Alan Greenspan's The Age of Turbulence, when nothing else tickled my literature funny bone. Then as serendipity would have it  I ambled by the magazine rack and  there was the issue of  Esquire that my friend recommended, right on top of the rack, yelping for me to read it much like Clooney's best friend, his dog Einstein.

Whether you like his politics or not, Clooney does have a down to earth outlook on life and how to live.  Interviewed by Cal Fussman back in September 2011, Clooney tells why he pushes some limits,  "... right now I can, and while I can, I want to do it. So when you're eighty years old and they ask you what you did, you can go, ' When I had the keys to the car, I drove it as fast as I could and as hard as I could. I took it to places the owner didn't really want me to take it.'" All the while he understands that one day they'll come to  repossess the car.

Learn how he chose his dog Einstein for a furry friend and a practical joke he and  Richard Kind pulled on Harry Hamlin. Politics don't make the man and clothes don't either, although Clooney does have quite the wardrobe.

Fussman opens Clooney's intellectual closet not all the way, but just enough for you to see his turkey meatball smothered shoes.

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