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Empire magazines worlds sexiest actor is...


MadameChaos

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benedict cumberbatch is a pan dimensional being, accidentally summoned to earth by george lucas.

lucas, while prepping for episode 1, created a wormhole at his skywalker ranch using the same fusion reactor that powers jake lloyd. the tear in the fabric of space time revealed a being of unimaginable evil. this being has no name, but chose to communicate with lucas using the "benedict cumberbatch" nom de guerre, as a kind of ironic jab at the futility of naming the blobs of chaos we call bodies. the dark lord cumberbatch ordered lucas to begin systematically destroying all major hollywood franchises. lucas refused, but cumberbatch poisoned his mind, promising him trillions if he could just take down every major property in hollywood.

he would begin...with his own.

pleased with the failure of the prequel trilogy, cumberbatch sent a holographic projection to earth. this projection was called j.j. abrams. a pleasantly jewish mosaic of popular nerd trends, abrams would present the trusting face of cumberbatch's horrific plan to enslave humanity. cumberbatch also created a number of screenwriting algorithms with names like lindelof, orci, and kurtzman. they began to dismantle every franchise they could find, capitalizing on every american's greatest weakness: nostalgia for their own shitty childhoods.

finally, cumberbatch appeared in human form, as a plastic faced amalgam of all the great screen actors. it was capable of delivering a single tear at any moment, a pensive monologue or an assured dramatic line reading. it could play a villain or a hero. it was "classically trained". it was handsome, yet somewhat androgynous. women came to late night talk show appearances and tossed panties at it. men dropped its name to sound "with it" to their dr. who loving anglophile girlfriends, pointing out how much they enjoyed its portrayal of khan or how parade's end "looks cool, maybe we can watch that after we're done with downton abbey season 3, honey". the world was its oyster.

the hologram abrams had destroyed the star trek franchise with one successful film to snare an audience and one terrible film to make that audience decide that star trek was just not that cool, brah. it was time for phase two. abrams signed on to direct star wars, promising to make up for the trilogy that the now brain dead lucas had unleashed on his fanbase.

the people were ready. for more than a decade, they had sat through remakes, reboots, sequels, prequels and spinoffs. moviegoers were saturated with advertising. they had acclimated to a creatively bankrupt world. presales for star wars were in the billions of dollars. governments shut down. james cameron, realizing that he was no longer king, shot himself in the eye with a harpoon and fell to the bottom of the marianas trench, hoping to be found by some enterprising young director in the future.

star wars premiered in 2015. it was simulcast in every country, online, in imax, in liemax, projected onto the moon, and fed as data to unborn children. the hologram abrams walked out onto a stage and introduced it, smiling in a trustworthy way, offering a firm handshake and a guarantee that he'd make his bottom line, and then flickered off. instead of an opening crawl, it consisted of an infrasound wash designed to weaken the mind of the already stupefied moviegoer. an image appeared of cumberbatch, reptilian features coalesced into a grin, followed by the sound of a giant zipper unzipping. a great white phallus appeared on screen, pointed at the stars, jerked off by many simian hands. audiences watched, enraptured. the phallus finally came, spraying green detritus over everything. an orgasmic moan, more like a clarion call to arms, sounded in thx surround sound. many audience members began to disrobe. women fingered themselves. men reverted to a primal state and began killing the weak among them. the naked masses began to build a tower out of bodies. soon there were many towers, reaching into the stratosphere.

all the while, a low hum grew into a thunderous worldwide chant. cumberbatch, cumberbatch...

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benedict cumberbatch is a pan dimensional being, accidentally summoned to earth by george lucas.

lucas, while prepping for episode 1, created a wormhole at his skywalker ranch using the same fusion reactor that powers jake lloyd. the tear in the fabric of space time revealed a being of unimaginable evil. this being has no name, but chose to communicate with lucas using the "benedict cumberbatch" nom de guerre, as a kind of ironic jab at the futility of naming the blobs of chaos we call bodies. the dark lord cumberbatch ordered lucas to begin systematically destroying all major hollywood franchises. lucas refused, but cumberbatch poisoned his mind, promising him trillions if he could just take down every major property in hollywood.

he would begin...with his own.

pleased with the failure of the prequel trilogy, cumberbatch sent a holographic projection to earth. this projection was called j.j. abrams. a pleasantly jewish mosaic of popular nerd trends, abrams would present the trusting face of cumberbatch's horrific plan to enslave humanity. cumberbatch also created a number of screenwriting algorithms with names like lindelof, orci, and kurtzman. they began to dismantle every franchise they could find, capitalizing on every american's greatest weakness: nostalgia for their own shitty childhoods.

finally, cumberbatch appeared in human form, as a plastic faced amalgam of all the great screen actors. it was capable of delivering a single tear at any moment, a pensive monologue or an assured dramatic line reading. it could play a villain or a hero. it was "classically trained". it was handsome, yet somewhat androgynous. women came to late night talk show appearances and tossed panties at it. men dropped its name to sound "with it" to their dr. who loving anglophile girlfriends, pointing out how much they enjoyed its portrayal of khan or how parade's end "looks cool, maybe we can watch that after we're done with downton abbey season 3, honey". the world was its oyster.

the hologram abrams had destroyed the star trek franchise with one successful film to snare an audience and one terrible film to make that audience decide that star trek was just not that cool, brah. it was time for phase two. abrams signed on to direct star wars, promising to make up for the trilogy that the now brain dead lucas had unleashed on his fanbase.

the people were ready. for more than a decade, they had sat through remakes, reboots, sequels, prequels and spinoffs. moviegoers were saturated with advertising. they had acclimated to a creatively bankrupt world. presales for star wars were in the billions of dollars. governments shut down. james cameron, realizing that he was no longer king, shot himself in the eye with a harpoon and fell to the bottom of the marianas trench, hoping to be found by some enterprising young director in the future.

star wars premiered in 2015. it was simulcast in every country, online, in imax, in liemax, projected onto the moon, and fed as data to unborn children. the hologram abrams walked out onto a stage and introduced it, smiling in a trustworthy way, offering a firm handshake and a guarantee that he'd make his bottom line, and then flickered off. instead of an opening crawl, it consisted of an infrasound wash designed to weaken the mind of the already stupefied moviegoer. an image appeared of cumberbatch, reptilian features coalesced into a grin, followed by the sound of a giant zipper unzipping. a great white phallus appeared on screen, pointed at the stars, jerked off by many simian hands. audiences watched, enraptured. the phallus finally came, spraying green detritus over everything. an orgasmic moan, more like a clarion call to arms, sounded in thx surround sound. many audience members began to disrobe. women fingered themselves. men reverted to a primal state and began killing the weak among them. the naked masses began to build a tower out of bodies. soon there were many towers, reaching into the stratosphere.

all the while, a low hum grew into a thunderous worldwide chant. cumberbatch, cumberbatch...

c'est incredible!

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it's all about marketability. agencies will push their most marketable stars at the best time possible.

 

previously it was Michael Fassbender, before that Tom hardy and now it's Benedict.

 

i find it encouraging that someone as unconventional as Ben is in the position.

 

having said that he really needs to make the most of this while it lasts...

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I was perhaps a bit mean-spirited with some of my comments (I don't really want to punch him the face), but I still maintain that he is not a 'sexy' guy.

 

Do you find him sexy Madame? At all?

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I'm still wondering why he played Kahn in the last Star Trek movie. Kahn was Indian.


Benedict Cumberbatch isn't anywhere close to being Indian.

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lol doofy Texans

 

alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright alright ok now ladies!

 

 

fixt

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I heard bummblerblatch on cnn or something being interviewed about his role as assange, and he was quite erudite and reasonably sympathetic a character. So i don't hate the man, i just think that he looks feral, his eyes are too far apart and so forth.

 

SUPERMAN SPOILER MAYBE

 

Also, i watched part of the new superman movie last night, and from his shirtless scene that new superman should totally have been voted most sexy, omG manmeat stud syrup. With his shirt on though and close up his face is a bit yam, but whatever, that lois lane is less than the visual ideal anyway. Sure they'll make a great pair (don't tell me what happens !!)

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I was perhaps a bit mean-spirited with some of my comments (I don't really want to punch him the face), but I still maintain that he is not a 'sexy' guy. 

 

Do you find him sexy Madame?  At all?

Not even remotely. No.

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celeb-closeup-2-benedict-cumberbatch.jpg

 

I always feel awkward looking at such up-close celebrity pictures like that. Like I'm invading someone's personal space or something. No one should have that much detail put out there, urghhhhhrghgrh.

 

 

unless it's porn of course

 

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celeb-closeup-2-benedict-cumberbatch.jpg

 

I always feel awkward looking at such up-close celebrity pictures like that. Like I'm invading someone's personal space or something. No one should have that much detail put out there, urghhhhhrghgrh.

 

 

unless it's porn of course

 

 

Dudes got some gingivitis creepin' on them teeth.

What an ugly chap.

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