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...hope nonbelievers will use this book to explore their own beliefs more? I hope that it inspires people to be more conscious about what they believe. I had never stopped to think why don't I believe in God, or about a lot of my political points of view. Why am I pro-choice? Being around people who disagreed with me on almost everything, I had to re-examine every part of what I believed to make sure I believed it for a reason...
...been through the Large Hadron Collider. A story here, a story there, a link here to distract you from the narrative flow of the text. The magazine content also has to fight its way through reams of online stories and features just to be noticed. Even the photo-essays never really worked online the way they did in print. The hunched-over, "factory floor" nature of viewing content at a computer on a desk or a lap neither enhances nor encourages the enjoyment of more than a shortish text block or the occasional ravishing image...
...genial bachelor father, the unseen boss of Charlie's Angels, the put-upon plutocrat of Dynasty. John Forsythe's gift as an actor was that he never made it seem like acting - just like being the good-looking, confident, reassuring exemplar of something like American royalty. Just like being John Forsythe...
...said that a movie actor should have the musk of danger, and a TV actor the scent of security. The first is a hot date, the second the ideal dinner guest. That makes Forsythe the template of TV stardom. Unthreateningly handsome, never breaking a sweat, or causing one, he was rarely the most noticeable person in a movie or TV series. The young Ann-Margret vamped and held him hostage in the 1964 Kitten With a Whip - oh, if the movie were only as tawdry as its title - but his character survived, decorum intact. Lawyer Al Pacino spumed and ranted...
...accused of murder in the 1962 TV drama I Saw the Whole Thing, and seven years later, as a government agent in Topaz. Except for an interlude of rapturous Cuban deceit between a Castro type and a femme fatale, this is one of Hitchcock's few perfunctory botches, never escaping the inertia of its putative star, that cardboard continental Frederick Stafford. Forsythe suffered no collateral damage here; even as a spy, he does not skulk, he glides. (See the 100 best movies of all time...