Style Over Substance: aka Mitch Pileggi is HOT!

Hello again, everyone,

Well, I was stumped for a rant this month. There were so many tempting targets: losers with cell phones, losers with SUV's, losers with SUV's who talk on their cell phones when driving, telemarketers, high movie prices and crappy movies, even crappier summer re-runs, the freaking heat wave that is slowly driving me insane, George W.
The list was endless.

But instead I think I'm going to tackle a subject near and dear to our hearts, ladies: Beefcake. Stud muffins. Hunks. Hotties. Babes. Honeys. Gods.

I'm talking guys.

Because, you see, this weekend I had a revelation--a discovery, if you will. A life-altering moment of clarity. Okay, maybe that's stretching it, but it was a goddam shock, I can tell you that! Now, what I'm about to reveal may not be news to many of you, but it hit me with the force of a Mack truck barreling down Rt. 95 at 100 mph.

Mitch Pileggi is HOT.

Go ahead. Laugh. I can hear you all snickering out there. But you know what? I don't care. I may not be the swiftest on the uptake, but I do eventually 'get it'. And if it took me all this time to see what a total robo-babe this man is, well, at least I finally figured it out.

It all started so innocently--a couple of Mulder/Skinner stories by Goddess Michele here, a couple more by Diana Williams there, my accidental bumbling into Xanthe's webpage--and suddenly I was trapped like a fly in a spider's web. A spider wearing black leather pants and wire rimmed glasses, burly and bare-chested--domineering, controlling, masculine and manly.

Mitch Pileggi is HOT.

Now, understand. I've watched the XF for some time now, and Walter Sergei Skinner did nothing for me. Zip. Zero. I was too busy lusting for Mulder and dreaming of running away to join The Lone Gunmen in their quest for JFK killers to even give a second look to the beefy scowling figure sitting behind that massive desk, signing his name to stacks of papers, only taking time out to glower at his agents. When I started seeing all these stories with him and Mulder, I didn't get it. Surely Fox could do better than A.D. Skinner.
Oh, boy, was I wrong!

Mitch Pileggi is HOT.

Why this fact should surprise me I don't know. There's something about the men of The X-Files that just seem to bring out the inner-slut in its female fans. Whether it be Mulder or Skinner, Doggett or The Gunmen (my babies), Krycek or even CSM (for some of you out there), we've hooked onto our favorites and love them passionately.

The odd thing is, with the exception of Nicholas Lea, none of these men are exactly beefcake material. Even Mr. Duchovny is handsome in an unconventional way. His features--the big nose, the large mouth, eyes a bit small and close together--taken individually doesn't say much, but put all in one package works quite nicely. (VERY nicely, might I say!) Then again, they're all sexy in their own quirky unorthodox way, and we've responded in kind. We're not talking Brad Pitt or George Clooney or Tom Cruise or any of those media created so-called 'sex symbols'. These men don't fit our standard definition of 'hunks', what we've been dictated to all our lives that makes a guy attractive. They're either 40+ or close to it, not overly muscle-bound (well, with one notable exception), faces like those you'd encounter everyday in your neighborhood--not chiseled out of stone--indeed, there's nothing really special about them.

So what is it, ladies, that make us go all weak in the knees over the men of the X-Files? I've been pondering the question for about 5 minutes now, and I think I have it figured out. It can all be summed up in a three-word phrase first quoted to me by my friend, Minna Harper:

Thinking Woman's Crumpet.

The men of the X-Files are mysterious, complex creatures with secret lives and numerous skeletons in their closets. All are troubled and broken in some way or another, usually through forces outside themselves that they have little or no control over. But beyond the desire they provoke in us to steal them away and shelter them from their pain, to a man they are all intellectually brilliant in one way or another. Whether they use that brilliance to fight for justice, (the good guys--Skinner, Mulder, Doggett, The Gunmen) or for their own evil purposes (the bad boys--Krycek, CSM), hardly matters to us.

They are men of substance, men with a mission, men you know you could have a conversation with that wouldn't litter it with talk of beer, wrestling, or Jean Claude Van Damme movies. They dazzle us with their intelligence, their leaps of logic, and their flights of fancy. They make us swoon with their knowledge on such a diverse range of topics, and wrap us around their little fingers with their wit and insights, forcing us to come back week after week for another fix.

Okay, so they may not be GQ material, but who cares? We recognize their sexiness anyway. We've shown that we're sick of baby faced Gen X actors with three names and little talent. OUR men are real men, with real names like David and William and Bruce and Tom and Dean. . .not just some dime-store, a penny-a-dozen, cloned plastic Ken dolls with wimpy names like Justine and Seann and Bryan and Ashton shoved down our throats by the Hollywood star factory. And we discriminating chicks have responded to that. We have made our voices heard, sisters…SMART IS SEXY!!!
Then again, it could be all that black leather the boys wear. (WOOF!)

That's all for this month. See you on the flip side.
Peace,
J.D. Rush

P.S. Did I happen to mention that Mitch Pileggi is HOT???