However, I consider my complete ignorance of the inner workings of U2 to be the biggest compliment I can give them and their music. I could truly give two shits about them as people (and this is a compliment how?), but I have seen them in concert and cried those kinds of tears that squeak out of your surprised head while you sit there wondering if you’ve recently come to a sudden stop. One takes stock of the situation…am I injured? Am I sad? Intriguing, I should really be HOLYSHIT they’re playing City of Blinding Lights and now I’ve got goosebumps and need to go cry some more.

Aaand scene.

So I did a bit of research into U2 earlier today and learned that I did know a bit about them personally. I knew I liked that little beanie-headed bastid. How did I come to separate him from the out of focus guys behind bug-eyes?

Specifically, that little shrug at 3:36 after he gets the roses thrown at him. It’s funny what the nombrain will notice. I remember this song when it came out and I remember seeing the video, but until earlier today I really couldn’t place why I remembered it. Turns out, The Edge is a bit of cutie pie. Who knew? Presumably Mrs. Edge but certainly few others would delve beyond the idiocy of that name and who could blame them.

HOWEVER.

The man can play some damn guitar. And this is what strikes me as rather curious about U2 as a whole: they don’t seem an overly or overtly sexual band. They can rock the shit, they can certainly put out the babymaking tunes, but I’ve honestly never thought nekkid thoughts of any of them. Not even beanie. Not even NOW, when TRYING. This freaks me out a little because I will crush on anyone at the drop of a hat. Or beanie. Maybe that’s it, who knows. It’s weirding me out though, and it’s making me wonder if anyone else actually sees anyone in the band as the hottest thing since sliced mancake.

For instance, I’m seeing It Might Get Loud later this afternoon. Three guitar gods in a few different rooms, doing what comes naturally to them. I’m premagining some hot Page on White licks, some bold strokes from White back to Page, and all while The Edge watches on the sidelines, fiddling with his knobs. Jack White is teh sex. Jimmy Page is TEH SEX. The Edge is an awfully cute cutie pie who doesn’t seem to mind feet in his face. Curious. Maybe I’ll come out of the film with a better and more lustful appreciation for the man. I hope so; otherwise I’ll feel bad for just liking the music.

In the meantime (and HOLYSHIT I just typo’d ‘mantime’), I offer this selection of pictures of The Edge. Also, seriously….wtf’s with that name? Do people call him Edge for short? If this film answers anything it better goddamn well answer that.

I don’t even know what this next one is from, or why hot men who have been beaten look even hotter (even when it might not be obvious that they’re saying “you should’ve seen the other guy”), unless it’s to imagine the inevitable scene where he whips ten shades of shit back to the punter who dared think of escaping unscathed. Yeaahhh, that’s probably it.

I am a stupid fan of the movie Love Actually. I say this with no shame, because the movie is funny and hokey and Christmas-y and British and heartening and there’s just really no fucking way I’d be able to not be a fan. If I’m ever feeling bad I can watch this movie and it will actually make me feel better. This is absurd and the fact of it makes me cringe in all my other 2000 parts, but it is a fact. I like to think that FutureMan will find this one of my more endearing qualities, and he’ll laugh quietly as I’m quivering with barely contained tearful joy at the little boy running all over the damn airport.

And here’s where I bring it all back around to the man in question (because I KNOW I’ve lost you now). Obviously he’s in his movie (and how hard it must’ve been for Emma Thompson to act brotherly toward one she would rather be jumping. I love Emma Thompson; she really is *that* good an actor). He’s beautiful, but I think my favorite parts of his character are the ones involving him and his stepson and usually the dads don’t do it for me. Men at a dad age or beyond, fuck yes. But dads themselves? Not really. They aren’t specifically unattractive, but they’re not specifically attractive either, when in dad mode. But I want to jump Liam Neeson when he calls his stepson a wee motherless mongrel, and I want to jump him when he recounts to the boy how he and Claudia Schiffer would have to have sex in every room of the house including his. I’m sure there’s something not entirely healthy in these admissions, but fuck it. The film is not searching for any deep dark human secrets and neither am I. I’m just enjoying the Christmas candy, and my GOD there’s a lot of it there. [Effbit, we HAVE to do an entire post just on LA. It. Must. Happen]

So, to summarize (oh god, I almost spelled this with two S’s) (this makes me inordinently happy).

The man looks good with his clothes on.

The man looks good with his clothes off.

The man just looks fucking GOOD.

And Emma Thompson knows it, and respects it. She’s part of our club (though of course if she ever were, we would absolutely have jackets made up celebrating the fact) (Emma, kidding, we’d be totally chill, I swear).

A lot of my noms are of the black & white variety and you just can’t deny what some men look like sans color information. Especially men with silly blue twinkly eyes and crazy good acting chops. Can you imagine a world where Lawrence of Arabia is a leading man’s first film role?

And in fitting nomness fashion, he has spent his entire professional life playing the role of rapscallion and raconteur. A famous drunk (one of the few legends still living), he has turned down a knighthood, raised a ruckus when bestowed with an honorary Oscar a few years back (he should’ve won for Lawrence, although if you’re gonna lose then placing second to Peck in Mockingbird is fair enough), and can still bring the acting pain (witness Venus). And of course, there’s the whole smoking hot thing.

So, in honor of Effbit’s trip (where she better not be having too much fun), I will be posting under a theme. She was complaining that I never seemed to fancy her countrymen so for the next two weeks I plan to offer a selection of hawt Irish. Not sure if I’ll run out early or not (KIDDING) (I think?), but consider this the gauntlet having been thrown and picked up again because you really shouldn’t leave that sort of thing just sitting around because that’s how wars get started and Great Britain will get the blame, I just know it.