When I stitch Burt Reynolds, I always start with his mustache (yes, I have stitched him frequently enough to have a preferred method). I also refuse to stitch him post-plastic surgery. Why do celebrities feel the need to fuck up their faces? It never turns out well, and it ends up being a permanent manifestation of human desperation.
Still, I do enjoy some of Burt’s post-plastic surgery performances, namely his short stint on “My Name is Earl”. Kudos to Jason Lee for allowing the show to be cancelled rather than taking his writing cues from network executives, but goddamn I hate to see a good show get the axe. I suppose I should simply appreciate the episodes that do exist; however, I can only watch “Twin Peaks” and “Arrested Development” so many times before I find myself pining for the hereafter.
As for Burt, I prefer to think of him as the Bandit, J.J. McClure, or Stroker Ace. Those were clearly his best days – when his self-esteem had not yet pushed him into the vast chasm of Bro-tox and in-the-flesh Photoshop.