So I thought it'd be a swell time if we took a look back at the Bradster and reminisced (judged) his evolution and provided some commentary (insults). Come with me friends. Come with me down the Pitt highway, littered with old highlight color containers and completely void of old deodorant sticks since apparently the Jolie-Pitts are against it. Sticking butt fat into your lips however is apparently perfectly permissible and natural. Anywaysssss....
-Ahhh yes. The floppiness. The scruffyness. The tucked in shirt with the belt buckle. This picture is positively screaming youthful exuberance and a cocky confidence that can only be held in that bizarre and often zit-filled time known as adolescence. We don't see any of Satan's white-tipped mountains chaining young Bradley's face though, do we? Nay. For this photo not only begs the question, "My choice of ear decoration clearly indicates I like pirates, but do I love Jesus ironically in a foreshadowed nod to some Whole Foods loving hipster successors, or am I genuine in my choice of clothing and accessories? You'll never know as my mischievous smirk and Smeagol crouch make me both appealing and untrustworthy. Bahaha I giggle at your quandary adoring fans!". No no this photo also says what every Neutrogena sponsor happily yells at you; it says, "Go wash your face, and maybe one day, you too can flop your hair over to the right and be in a movie with Susan Sarandon...and maybe you'll even get to drive off the cliff."
-The early 90s. The tops were shorter, Tonya Harding was beating down the competition, and Norway spurned the E.U. "Speed" and "Four Weddings and a Funeral" had just come out, and people were afraid. Afraid that they were doomed evermore to watch bumbling protagonists with hair that flopped NOT in a B.P. kind of way; protagonists who filmed entire action movies on buses and blinked a lot at Sandra Bullock who could not drive. Protagonists with thick rimmed glasses who continually looked like an idiot in front of Andie McDowell, like ALL the time, and always played the same charming polite British guy but secretly picked up prostitutes. People needed a hero. Someone to inspire them to blaze their own trail. A rebel. A rebel who said, "I'm gonna be in a movie about not belonging, with a really deep and unrelated title like "Legends of the Fall". It'll be a period piece, beautifully filmed in Canada, but you'll think it's Montana; CAUSE WE CAN. I'm gonna break stallions, have a socially unacceptable marriage, and wrestle bears because I JUST DON'T GIVE A DAMN. I'll drive the only woman I've ever loved to suicide and I'll enjoy doing it because LOOK HOW LONG MY HAIR IS. Sure, maybe I just didn't want to cut it after "Interview with a Vampire", but mostly it's to ensure that in my next role I get to beat up a bartender and then vengefully massacre some Irish bootleggers...why?...because my hair can be put in a flipping PONYTAIL that's why. Go be who you need to BE world. Because my lucsious full-bodied hair COMMANDS it."
-Peroxide will murder everything you love.
-And now, we come to some more recent events. So many questions. Why can we no longer understand your movies? Why are they all 12 hours long? What's it like to be Benicio Del Toro? Do you even know what you're doing? Your hand gestures suggest you would like someone to come up to you and explain A) what "The Tree of Life" was about and B) why you felt the need to pour bacon grease on your head and then "style" it. The one sad and sorry lesson in this photo, folks, is that anyone, ANYONE, can become a cautionary tale. Just ask Brad's forlorn and forgotten piece of chin-hugging facial hair. He'll tell ya. Tell ya all about the glory days when Jennifer Aniston kept him in a healthy supply of "Just For Men Gel" and fine-toothed combs. Now it's caution to the wind, since Angie keeps the man too busy what with all the rain dances and backyard bunny sacrifices to ensure plentiful harvests. If only 90s-era Brad could see himself now...