The one with Benedict Cumberbatch.

Despite how infrequently I blog, there are some things which are so important in my life that they will inevitably appear in my writing, even if only once. Because I can't help but talk about them.

I can't help but talk about Benedict Cumberbatch.

There are many reasons why I have been so captivated by him and believe him to be a gift to acting. I will spare you the comprehensive enumeration of them at this time, chiefly because doing so would likely dissuade all who see this from ever taking me seriously again. Fortunately, there is one particular quality that sums up very many of my reasons, which I will demonstrate for you with a couple of examples.

The man can wear a suit very well,

yet I once watched him in a video the entirety of which is a fashion disaster. Shirts that are frankly too big, a funny hat...crocs? See it for yourself.

Then there's this: the first time he goes to the Oscars, he's honored and dignified with the privilege of presenting an award, and he commemorates the occasion by making a fool of himself behind U2. 

In short, he's good - really, really good - but he doesn't care. Not one bit. And he's better for it.