George Clooney, King of Hollywood

Ocean's Thirteen?

Why?


Actually, that's a dumb question, especially since I already know “why”.


It's gonna make lots of money, that's why.


But you understand my confusion, don't you? I mean, Ocean's Eleven was a big, lighter-than-air soap bubble of a movie. When the light caught Steven Soderbergh's mischievous caper the right way, it was like watching a rainbow explode. As your eyes happily widened in delight and you gasped, “Ooohhhh”, it popped quickly out of sight, leaving nothing behind but a smile.


What happened? Uh, something about a robbery, I think. They looked like they were having a great time, too.


So what the hell, let's do Ocean's Twelve. More of the same, except less of it.


Which brings us back to:Ocean's Thirteen. Why not? We can't stop now, boys! Not as long as they keep giving us checks!


And why should they stop? After all, it isn't as though George Clooney has been making terrible choices lately. To use a metaphor Danny Ocean would appreciate, Clooney is like the guy in Las Vegas at the poker table with a Mt. Fuji-sized mountain of chips in front of him. And he's smiling because he knows he's not finished yet.


Look at how well Syriana worked out for Clooney.


Wow, an Oscar for best supporting actor? Quite a step up from Return of The Killer Tomatoes!, I'd say. Good for him.

I'm glad Clooney won. As my wife would say, He's a real mensch. Dammit, he's handsome, successful, intelligent, sexy, generous to his fellow actors, articulate, and a tough, hard-knuckled Liberal With A Capital “L” who isn't afraid to punch a loudmouth punk like Bill O'Reilly in the mouth. In the Hollywood community, he's James Bond - without 007's bad, messy, psychotic habit of killing people, of course.


As the new King of Hollywood, Clooney wears his crown well. And it's well-deserved, because he made the right choices.


Sure, that's all. Just like Hank Aaron hit a few home runs. And Einstein was real good at math, too.