it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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From Kim Philby to Bill Cosby

Last week, my synchronistic haunt was Kim Philby. He was everywhere. Everywhere! I used him in a short story, and suddenly it was Kim Philby on every corner.

This week it's Bill Cosby. He's on NPR this morning, talking about weight management and cholesterol, and of course earlier I was stunned to discover that around the time I was born, he was incredibly hot.

Well, I compounded my trauma last night by watching the I Spy reunion movie. And I have to say, I am going to carry that image of Cosby naked in a bucket of ice to my grave. To my grave, I tell you.

It wasn't all that bad, exactly. At least it didn't make the mistake that The Fifteen Years Later Affair made--of separating the partners for nearly the entire duration of the movie. The bitchy, quarrelsome, cantankerous old married couple dynamic between Kelly and Scotty was intact--improved, even. (In fairness, the other kind of old-married-couple dynamic--the one where they finish each other's sentences and move like two limbs of the same animal--between Napoleon and Illya was also intact in the precious few scenes they got together in Fifteen Years Later. Four fine actors, all doing their jobs with aplomb, and a pleasure to watch in any circumstances--except perhaps naked in a bucket of ice.)

But. Damn. The only way the I Spy reunion could have been slashier is if they'd shown Kelly and Scotty falling into bed together (another image I will now carry to my grave. To my grave!). That wasn't subtext: that was a red flag.

I'm probably hyspersensitized to slash currently, having just spent six months in Kit Marlowe's rather smut-infested head. But.

Damn.
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