He is a fearless performer.
He dances like Bambi figuring out how to walk and then getting its legs slashed in half and then saying, “Fuck this, I’m not done” and then building new legs and walking on those better than his natural legs.
He looks amazing in skinny pants.
He can sing. He’s one smooth baritone. He thinks he’s not a good singer, and that just shows how humble he is. That’s another good quality.
He fell over an ottoman like 50 times and didn’t permanently injure himself.
He manages to be nonthreatening, handsome, goofy, and yet sexy all at the same time.
He diagnosed murder with incredible accuracy.
He played Albert Peterson for a year and a half in “Bye Bye Birdie” on Broadway and won a Tony. That shows commitment and skill.
He reprised the role in the film version and went on to admit that it wasn’t a very good adaptation and was basically made to be a starring vehicle for Ann-Margret. That shows honesty and integrity.
He aged damn well. He’s 87 now and looks better than your dad. Probably. I don’t know.
He served in the US Air Force. He enlisted – 3 times. He kept getting rejected for being underweight. That shows persistence and patriotism. And not that annoying kind of patriotism. The real kind.
He grew up during The Great Depression and maintained a sense of humor and positive attitude. That shows strength.
He quit smoking after 50 years. Probably so he can fall over more ottomans and not get winded.
He overcame alcoholism.
He was a fan of Stan Laurel’s so one day in his early acting years, he looked for Laurel’s number in the phone book and called him just to say he was a fan. That shows balls. Turns out, Laurel told him he was a fan of his.
He’s like a hot version the classic suburban dad. If you have daddy issues, it’s a big plus.
He didn’t appear in his first film until he was 36 and he still hasn’t officially retired. That gives anyone hope that anything can happen if you work hard enough.
He’s not a stuck-up jerk. When they unveiled his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and his name was spelled wrong, he laughed, took a pen out of his pocket, and corrected it. You think your beloved Frank Sinatra would do that? No way.
He and his pregnant wife were so poor starting out that they couldn’t afford rent, got evicted, and were almost homeless. That could break someone. But he never gave up.
He can do a British accent. A terrible one, but still. It counts. It barely counts. But stop. Just, stop. Let me have this one thing, okay? Just this one thing.