First of all, nobody asked me to vote. Secondly, no one nominated me, either. That's why it is no shock to me that Johnny Depp was named this year's "Sexiest Man Alive." Leaving aside, for the moment, all further discussions of the polling process, there is still a matter of that modifier: Alive. Just how would Mister Depp stack up against a phalanx of dead male celebrities? Keeping in mind that Johnny has been awarded this somewhat dubious distinction twice, the first time six years ago, one wonders just how many more he might have in store before his sexiness begins to ebb.
George Clooney and his "Ocean's 11" pal Brad Pitt have been honored by People magazine twice for their live sexiness. All three of these guys have made a point throughout their careers of not trading on their looks: Pitt in "Twelve Monkeys," Clooney in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" and Depp in just about anything aside from "Chocolat." So what is sexy, man-wise? Pirates? Psychos? Chocolate Manufacturers? Movie-star good looks are a nice start, but a willingness to wear a funny set of dentures couldn't hurt.
Still, I find myself returning to the initial question: Who is voting for this stuff? The staff at People magazine seem to be uniquely qualified to make these kind of discernments. The most, the best, the worst, the year in review. Is there no epitome upon which these scions of journalism are unable to pontificate? Then I am reminded of the description Jeff Goldblum's character gives in "The Big Chill" of the journalistic integrity of People magazine. He suggests that every article needs to be just about as long as it takes one to make a trip to the loo. Come to think of it, that's pretty sexy too.