Here we go. A breath of fresh air before announcing what's been on my mind for almost exactly one year. A joke to clear my throat:

Joey's Official Nomination

And now the hard part. Close your eyes, would you please, and imagine you are seated in a living room in Hollywood, California. The date is Thursday, November 27th, 2008 and we are all basking in the warm accent + smirk combination of a fresh Cary Elwes. Let me set the scene a little more: a rumble vibrates from the couch cushions and Lowell lights a match; Mr. Fahrenheit, having moments earlier defied the laws of gravity, is zonked out on the recliner in the back row in an embarrassing display of drunkenness. We pop in a movie highlighting our honorable mention, Keanu Reeves (thank you very much Joey), and as it rolls on we are compelled by the pathos, the ethos, the true grit that manifests before our eyes as our man falls into a pit of bank robbery, sky diving, and debauchery. And it's great, the turkey is great, the movie's great, Keanu is great. But there's one man, someone else-- not Keanu, not Elwes-- who we just can't get out of our heads.

Blond.

Body.

Stud.

A chest that refuses to quit.

As I began to scavenge my psyche for a 2009 star, it seemed a no-brainer, almost too easy. I reflected and pondered as the year waned toward the season of thanksgiving (my reason for living). I drew his name over and over in my journal, growing ever more confident in my would-be-nomination. And then suddenly, roughly a month and a half before open nom-season, tragedy struck. After a hard fought battle with pancreatic cancer. My hero died. My heart goes out to his family and friends who stood by his side throughout the devastation.

Fans gathered to pay homage to his beloved, colorful, and decades-spanning career. I admit that in the wake of all this, I feared, selfishly, that so much celebration would in fact weaken the strength of my nomination, since our committee gathers every year to give voice to the voiceless. And so I began to ponder other possibilities. Emmanuel Lewis, Bronson Pinchot perhaps, Cuba Gooding, Jr.... In a moment of weakness I dialed Lowell's number and uttered the words Carrot Top. But still, my mind lingered on another.

Stallion.

Sexy.

Moves.

Excitement.

Sometimes we need to join the crowd to express the true pangs of our hearts.

Swayze