Regular readers here know that I maintain lists of what I call “Bokanovsky Brats,” movie stars and at least one athlete who bear remarkable resemblance to one another. One group is called the “Matt Damon batch,” after the lightly-talented actor who’s had far more success than his face, acting and “writing” skills warrant. (He and Ben Affleck were credited with writing the script for the 1997 movie Good Will Hunting. I do not believe it.)
One member of his Batch is quarterback Tom Brady of the New England Patriots.
I cannot speak to Brady’s skill as a quarterback other than noting that the Patriots, while sitting atop the league since 2001 and suffering low draft picks, still managed every year to assemble a Pro Bowl-caliber line to protect this slow-footed GOAT. Some sort of magic, fraud or fakery must be at work there.
But forget football. Like all sports, its outcomes can be rigged.
I recently watched a Netflix TV series called Living With Yourself. That link is to the two-minute trailer. It stars Paul Rudd, whom I’ve never been able to place in any of our batches, and whose talent I enjoy. The premise of the series is this: Rudd plays Miles Elliot, a man who is struggling with life. He’s unhappy, uninspired, unsure of himself. He hears about a service offered in a local mini-mall., where they (illegally) offer to clone people, making new and better versions while discarding the old. In Miles’ case, while they place his old body in a plastic bag and bury him, he survives, so that there are two of them. His wife figures it out, and that is the basis on which the eight episodes were based. Rudd does a superb job of playing both the dreary old and dynamic new Miles.
What I am showing below is a small snippet from episode one. Miles is debating whether or not to go forward, sitting in front of the storefront that houses the cloning clinic. You explain it to me, as when I first viewed it, I was stunned.
The man has a classic shit-eating grin as he gets in his chauffeured limo. The “six times” must refer to his six orchestrated Superbowl victories. Otherwise, why even insert that line?
Draw your own conclusions, but I think they are mocking us – not me, not this blog, as we are too small to matter in that way. Rather, they are mocking all of us. Tom Brady is fake, fake, fake. His marriage to Gisele Bündchen, a Brazilian model, must have been added to make his public image seem more real. I doubt that behind the scenes they even share the same home. I wonder if he is gay, sterile, impotent, or even all of the above. These people, these Brats, are not real people.
This just in: Rudd bears a strong resemblance to Jennifer Lawrence, which would place him in the Helen Mirren Batch. Just … ever so not quite.