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On the death of Burt Reynolds

In my head Burt Reynolds and Tom Selleck are physically adjacent in that kind of way that their mugshots might be displayed just a fraction of a second apart while running a Photofit of a mustachioed criminal through a computer on a police procedural. The distance between them compressed in my memory by the fact that when I was a kid they were both middle-aged men with moustaches that drove fast — but not talking, flying or otherwise impressive — cars.

I never really saw much of Magnum P.I., but the Smokey and the Bandit films were on pretty regularly growing up. Weirdly, I best knew Tom Selleck from Runaway in which he plays a future-cop who has to duke it out with evil robots constructed by the lead singer of KISS. Regardless, he and Burt both occupied that vague position of hairy-lipped, open-necked, slightly grimy leading man in my perception of hollywood stars.

If you type both of their names into Google you'll get a collection of side-by-side images that'll make it clear just how dissimilar from one another they really are, bar the hair which, give or take, appears in the same position on their faces. Despite that, my observation in this tweet transpired to either be so completely trite, or (given the aforementioned distinctions) blandly baffling that it was, quite rightly, entirely ignored.

My understanding is that Tom Selleck underwent the Quickening yesterday.

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