I believe in pandering. Any longtime reader will know this is true. This blog and pandering go together like red beans and rice.
Need proof? My very first post back on April Fools' Day 2007 was a few short sentences accompanying a picture of Indira Varma.
Earlier this week over at the Other Blog, there was a Brave Last Days alert for Anne Francis, star of Forbidden Planet and the portrayer of the title role on the 1960s TV series Honey West. By all rights, I should have had a massive crush on Anne Francis, because she certainly was a honey.
But in those days just before puberty kicked me around like an empty soda can, I already had a massive crush on Diana Rigg. What Indira Varma is to the Matty Boy on the cusp of grumpy old manhood, Diana Rigg was to the Matty Boy on the cusp of regular old manhood. There was not room in my pre-teen brain for another all-encompassing female obsession.
She had such a lovely face, and that little trademark smirk made me crazy. Then there's the British accent. I think Ms. Varma's accent nudges a little trigger that is still left over from my feelings about Diana Rigg back in the day.
And, oh yeah. She had gams. Mighty, mighty fine gams.
I know I wasn't alone. In the 1970s, I read an interview with Miss Rigg saying she considered finding the addresses of the mothers of all her underage fans sending a form letter to the effect of "Do you know what a little pervert your son is?" But we weren't perverts. (Or at least I wasn't. I didn't read the other letters.) We were young men in desperate love. Whether that is better or worse than being a pervert, I will leave it to greater minds than mine to decide.
Anyone else of about my age who also wants to admit his or her uncontrollable obsession with Diana Rigg is welcome to do so in the comments, because as I wrote already, I know I wasn't alone.