As Jeff mentioned, Charlton Heston died last night. Heston was, of course, a total asshole. Which is something we had in common, as I am a total asshole, too. Or he would have thought I was, if he'd known of my existence, and, given that he was a gun-loving asshole, it's probably a good thing he didn't.
At the end of his life, Heston was as conservative as I am not conservative, and equally as vocal about it. And, so, despite having a profound dearth of respect for the opinions he held, I always had a begrudging respect for his willingness to publicly air them. He was a Great American, in the tradition of loud-mouthed political assholes who make generous use of our freedoms to say what the fuck we want, and I don't imagine it will come as a surprise to anyone who's spent any amount of time hanging around this juke joint that I found him pretty diggable for it, even as I daydreamed about kicking him in the junk.
Metaphorically, natch. I mean, the guy had lots of guns.
And Heston wasn't just an asshole; he was talented asshole. Sure, he chewed the scenery and turned "bulging neck tendons" into an emotional prop, but he was damn compelling. So compelling, in fact, that I could watch one of his films and forget altogether for two hours or so that there was very little I actually liked about the guy.
"Take your stinking paws off me, you damn, dirty ape!"
He was an epic film star with an epic personality, and I loved to hate him as much as I hated to love him. That might not sound like much of a compliment, but it is.
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