To me, you’ll always be the near-perfect Bryan MacKenzie, fiancee from “Father of the Bride” – Steve Martin version.
You were charming, cute, enlightened (you were going to let Annie keep her maiden name – so very progressive for 1991), an all around nice guy. Oh sure, there was that moment of dumb-fuckery, when you bought her a toaster as an anniversary gift, and the wedding almost got cancelled, but then it didn’t. At the end of the day, you were a delightful guy, a road-map, if you will, for those of us who thought we might one day go on to marry men.
Didn’t see much of you after that.
But then, this week, I can’t get you out of my living room.
It’s been 17 years, and you don’t really look all that different.
On Monday, you were on “Criminal Minds”, playing a pedophile who teams up with his neighbor (and turns him into his lover) to kidnap young girls.
Tonight, you were on “CSI: NY”, playing a court officer, who murders his son’s wrestling coach.
What the hell?
Why are you so determined to take my pleasant, adolescent memories of you and replace them with ickiness? Why, George Newbern? What did I do to you?
Reply at your earliest convenience,