Tag: Chris Cuomo

Wet Newsmen

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It’s been ages since I posted about the only reason I have any idea what’s happening in the world around me: hunky morning newsmen. I’ve migrated almost entirely to The Early Show on CBS, having felt crushed and pissed on (not in the good way… if you’re into that…) by ABC’s epic failure to retain Italian stallion and star of many a fantasy of mine, Chris Cuomo. As sexy as I think George Stephanopoulos is (and I do), I just can’t help but feel bitter resentment any time I see his face behind the anchor desk that, by all that is holy and just, should have been Cuomo’s. CBS has partially filled the void in my morning lusts by assembling a team of hunks that collectively get my juices pumping almost as feverishly as Cuomo does anytime he goes fishing.
ABC’s Chris Cuomo and that Bastard Fish
It takes four CBS news studs to approximate the raw sex appeal of a certain curly haired Italian, but I’m not disappointed by the assembled beef and beauty (in descending order of my lustful affections): anchorman Chris Wragge, news reader Jeff Glor, correspondent Whit Johnson, and correspondent Ben Tracy. Sure, Cuomo could crush any one of these studs in a marathon bearhug until the lucky bastard wilted in the Italian’s pythons, slid to his knees, and was force fed a northern Italian protein shake, but the four of them operating in tandem could probably take the Italian bull down and make him suffer a serious beating in the ratings. Yes, yes, I’ve already started that story in the backlog of my homoerotic wrestling fiction works-in-progress.
Chris Wragge – Buttoned Down, Rouged, and Turning on the Charm
The newsman sitting oh-so-pretty at the top of the CBS morning heap of hunks is Chris Wragge. The gargantuan step up from Wragge’s predecessor to this blond beast cannot be overstated. He isn’t as classically handsome as Cuomo, nor does he seem to me to possess as much raw sexual energy. He has some odd, not entirely attractive quirks, like his frequently pursed lips and unilateral smirks. However, the reportedly 6’4″ blond, blue-eyed sexpot is unquestionably worth changing the channel for, for a little dose of morning adrenaline to wake up to. 
I’m not surprised at all the CBS decided to contrive a reason to follow Wragge around with a camera as he trots and bounces about in skin tight lycra. On Monday of this week, they aired a gratuitously long segment on his training and completion of the Montauk Mightyman triathlon. Yes. This is national news that a former college athlete (ivy league football? um, let’s just say he was a big man on campus), swam, cycled, and jogged his way across the tip of Long Island. What, you say? That doesn’t sound like national network news? Have you seen this man’s chest?
Chris Wragge bobbing and bouncing as he jogs in Central Park
So my caps of the whole bodyworship segment sort of suck, because CBS’s online videos of their materials are not in HD (those bastards). But a few things can clearly be seen if you take the time to watch the video (especially if you watch it multiple times… trust me on this). First, the shots of Wragge jogging in Central Park illustrate a few things we just don’t see when he’s suited up for The Early Show. For example, he’s sans make-up and hair gel, so if you want to picture what he looks like waking up next to you in bed, this clip is for you. More compelling still, he’s dressed in tight grey training trunks that clearly show those big, powerful thighs of his have a nice bulge hanging between them.
My first trip to the pause button, however, came when he jogs away from the camera. Wragge has got major league ass (probably necessary to balance out the impressive beef hanging down from the front)! Baby! Those big, round glutes pumping away suddenly make his credibility as a news anchor skyrocket… for me.

There’s a criminally brief and blurry shot of him training in the pool. It’s not entirely satisfying, but Big Boy is clearly sporting some big, bronze pecs with tight little brown nips. They may not be quite as lucsious as Cuomo’s, but I’d need to compare in a side-by-side pec-off, with lot’s of flexing and baby oil, to make sure.

Wragge clearly knows he’s the resident sexpot at The Early Show. I get the impression his self-consciousness at being extensively videotaped in muscle-hugging lycra isn’t exactly born out of embarrassment. Towering over his triathlon veteran buddy after the race, it’s hard to miss the cold hard fact that he’s a big, beautiful, muscled pretty boy who enjoys showing off his side cleavage, big round shoulders, and bulging biceps.

Just to prove the point, he’s posted this impressive shot showing off his grease painted race number down his rippling arm (yeah, sure… it’s the number he’s showing off).

The towering stud bitched and moaned about the 20 minute swim, but otherwise he seems pretty proud of himself for muscling his way through Montauk. The joy of accomplishing an impressive physical feat is, I’m sure, something that he should be proud of. I suspect there’s a strong possibility that his self-satisfaction after crossing the finish line may also include a healthy dose of narcissistic delight in knowing that those pecs, massive thighs, and gorgeous, powerful ass fill out a wet suit exceedingly well.

Knowing that there’s some man loving waiting for him might also account for his success in sprinting all the way past the finish line.
So I’m painting Chris Wragge with my own brush, of course. The big, gorgeous blond could be deeply insecure about his rocking body. Critical comments about his pursed lips and one-sided smirks could possibly cut him to the core, as far as I know. I doubt it, but I could easily be mistaken. But more importantly for my purposes, in my homoerotic wrestling imagination, Wragge is a supremely cocky and confident news stud who delights in having his muscles adored, who lives to have a camera lustfully study every nook and cranny of his powerful physique, and who struts around with his entourage of Jeff, Whit and Ben just itching to kick some competition ass. So sure, one-on-one I’d put money on Cuomo to be more devastatingly beautiful and victorious in a wrestling showdown. But I don’t imagine Wragge as ever feeling the ethical obligation to deal from the top of the deck or show up with anything less than all guns (and flunkies) blazing.

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Joe

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A couple of weeks ago I invited several wrestling bloggers and regular neverland readers to author contributions to a summer series on the topic of “diverse tastes.” Readers frequently write to let me know how their opinions, tastes and turn-ons differ in small and big ways from how I describe my own wrestling kinks here on the pages of this blog.  My hope is that bringing together a chorus of voices from homoerotic wrestling fans will help celebrate our diverse tastes.


Kicking off this series, my friend and colleague Joe at Ringside at Skull Island pens the following fantastic insight into not only what turns him on, but his reflections on from where homoerotic wrestling tastes may emerge and how his tastes have evolved. I’ve added the pics and captions, but the rest of the text is 100% Joe’s brilliance. Thanks, Joe!    ~Bard
—————
DIFFERENT STROKES
A bit of trivia.  The first celebrity to give me wood was Mighty Mouse.  Yeah, the cartoon character.  I was maybe eight years old.  Weird, huh?
Bard asked me to write on the topic of diverse tastes partly because (I think) we both blog, and through these blogs we came to know each other and, early on, recognize that we have some mutual tastes, tastes we had once thought were ours all alone.  As bloggers, too, we get comments from readers who, like us, are intrigued that others share what they assumed were one-of-a-kind kinks.  These points of mutuality are fun to discover, especially if in the past we were led to feel weird because of them. 
News Anchor Chris Cuomo:
Wrestling Kink Inspiration?

But we also hear from readers who point out differences in taste, which are amusing but not surprising.  For instance, Bard has a taste for television anchormen that I do not get.  Bard and I acknowledge such differences and move on.  But occasionally, rarely, we are called to task because of our tastes.  We are told that we must like what we like because we are not right.  Because our tastes are wrong. 
Responders to my wrestling blog have accused me of being prejudiced towards beautiful young men … and prejudiced against them.  I can’t explain why different readers perceive my tastes so differently. I am strongly in favor of beautiful young men.  Not to be strikes me as phony-baloney smugness.  You might as well say you are against fresh, flavorful fruit.
Of course, individual tastes differ.  It took me a while to recognize and develop my tastes.  My opinion is that all my tastes were acquired through experience, although I was probably born with certain propensities. Years and maturity brought me closer to myself, away from received opinion and peer pressure and the influence of advertising.
Stoney Hooker – One of Joe’s Favorites

What I resent is somebody trying to make me feel guilty about what attracts me.  It’s not as if I choose what makes my cock stiff.  If I am mainly attracted to men, am I a sexist?  If I am mainly attracted to men of European descent, am I a racist?  If I am attracted to young men, am I an ageist?  If I am attracted to men who behave in traditionally masculine ways, am I a self-loathing homophobe?  I don’t think so.  Not necessarily, anyway.  Sexism, racism, ageism, and homophobia are about treating people differently because of their outward appearance or natural propensities.  Sexual attraction is a part of who I am, as an individual.  It says more about me than about those to whom I’m attracted.  It is not about bigotry or treating other people as anything less than free and equal individuals.
If I were attracted to the kind of person I am “supposed” to be attracted to, I’d be into middle-aged white women, exclusively.  Sure, you might say that my tastes are superficial, narrow, and unimaginative, even self-destructive, and I might even agree to a certain extent.  How much better and easier my world would be if I were attracted to (and attractive to) all kinds of people, not just a select few.  With different tastes, I might even like Brussels sprouts and chicken livers, but for the life of me I cannot even guess why it would be anyone else’s business what I do or do not like. 
Adam’s Apples, Firm Convex Bellies,
and Strong Shoulders
Where did my tastes come from?  Early childhood experience seems a plausible explanation.  Why do my tastes change over time?  They do change, fairly frequently.  I guess they change because I acquire new experiences.  I had a boyfriend for several years who was not at all what I had previously thought “my type” was.  How I became attracted to him is an utter mystery.  But he broke the mold and changed my type from that point on. 
I like, and have always liked, tall men more than short, though short can be fun too.  Dark more than fair, though fair is what I’m in the mood for sometimes.  (I’m fickle.)  Irish, Jewish, Italian, yes.  I like strong backs, strong shoulders, strong limbs.  Six-pack abs do little for me anymore, if they ever did.  I even prefer a firm convex belly, just not too convex and not too soft.  Adam’s apples delight me.  I like hairy chests.  I like big noses and small ears.  I’m not particular about penis size, but let’s say no shorter than my thumb and no longer than my foot.  I like arrogance, but I prefer strong, silent types. I am turned off by fussiness, pretentiousness, and anal retentiveness.  I like men I can laugh with. Bright but not necessarily intellectual men.  I hate whiners.  I hate yes men.  I hate men dressed for success.  I like men who are at ease in their bodies, whatever those bodies look like.  The acid test is whether a man will strip to naked without apologies.  The acid test is whether he wrestles.
What turns me on now is not what turned me on years ago.  I can’t explain it.  But it’s a good thing, or else I’d still be waiting for Mighty Mouse.

-Joe at Ringside at Skull Island

Jo FX: Tall, Dark, and Hairy-Chested

Wet Newsmen

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In the midst of my recent rush of productivity and, basically, kicking ass at work, I didn’t even notice that neverland turned 2 years old. Sometimes, it feels like I’ve been building this monstrosity for most of my life, so just ticking off a 2nd anniversary seems impossibly short. It’s been about 95% pleasurable, which is pretty damn good odds in my experience of past-times. In honor of the beginning of year 3, and taking us back to my homoerotic wrestling blogging roots, here are some pics from a Men’s Health feature on ABC News’ Chris Cuomo. Chris was the subject of my first topical post two years ago. Specifically, I snagged a capture of Chris in a dunking booth, his white t-shirt soaked and plastered to his rippled torso. These latest pics are of Chris, once again soaked (as he ought to be in every photo he ever takes), this time in muscle hugging lycra competing in his first triathlon. Chris commanded a whole lot of attention around these parts for about 8 months, until the point that Good Morning America passed over my favorite Italian stallion news muscle hunk and instead promoted George Stephanopolous to the anchor chair. Those bastards. I’m still bitter. Until Matt Gutman does a shirtless newscast slathered in baby oil, I will continue to resent ABC and refuse to return to my loyal GMA viewership.
My lust for newsmen muscle led to Chris Cuomo and five other news crushes of mine appearing in a fictional homoerotic wrestling tournament in my imagination. Chris was an early favorite in that tourney, though things didn’t quite go his way in the end. Because it seems like I can never get enough of fantasy-Chris, he did prevail in a five-way battle-royale in the serial News Division wrestling broadcast in the Producer’s Ring.

What Chris’ journey through my homoerotic wrestling imagination and through his real life evolution as a “serious” ABC newsman illustrates, and what my experience of blogging for two years confirms, life is full of change. For all that’s changed and all that’s stayed the same, for good friends and fellow kinksters, for hot homoerotic wrestling hunks, both real and imagined, I’m grateful for the past two years.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #5

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If you were tracking my musings this time last year, you may remember that I did my own “best of 2009” countdown. I’m reprising the tradition as I reflect back on another year of finding a ridiculous quantity of things to say about beautiful men, wrestling, and especially beautiful men wrestling.




Again, if you were tracking my musings this time last year, you may also remember my bitterness at the end of 2009 as a result of Italian adonis newsboy Chris Cuomo getting shafted (linger on that image a moment…) and yanked off of my morning television into the oblivion that is 20/20… or is it 60 minutes… or Dateline…. one of those news programs that I have far too much of a life to be watching on a weekend evening.
To kick off my 5 most favorite moments of 2010, I’m reflecting with deep appreciation on the new crop of news hunks that the networks are now beginning to harvest. I was sure it was going to happen, but it seemed like an eternity before hot new meat popped up to catch my eye in the morning news. When Matt Gutman showed up on ABC covering the oil spill in the gulf, suddenly the morning news grabbed my attention like it hadn’t managed to do since Chris’ exile.

So my discovery of Matt is the “moment” I’m appreciating, but I’m also happy to have seen plenty more of Matt on the oil soaked beaches of the gulf, and then covering the tornado ravaged Southeast, and more recently in harms way as Haiti rioted. I’m pulling for Matt to get a desk job soon, so that he can be a more regular fixture of lust and we can see those dimples up close. As long as he continues to keep his shirt unbuttoned to give us a glimpse of that hot, hairy chest, he will remain my favorite new fantasyman from the world of journalism.

Matt’s debut in my homoerotic wrestling fiction (it was inevitable) was at first glance, perhaps, inauspicious. He submitted to David Muir in a Mexican Ceiling hold variation, despite the ringside encouragement of his mentor, Chris Cuomo.


When Chris’ nemesis, Carter Evans dives into the ring looking like he’s eager to take a bite out of the beaten rookie post-match, Chris intervenes in defense of his protegé. Matt cements himself as an anti-hero object of my lust by Pearl Harboring his now-former mentor and double-teaming the Italian Stallion with his new BFF, Carter. I expect to see more of all parties involved showing up in my homoerotic wrestling imagination in 2011, needless to say.

And I’m delighted to add that there are a bevy of newsboys ready to join them. A real life shake up at CBS’ The Early Show has catapulted Chris Wragge and Jeff Glor into my sights. I’ve also been taken with the appearance of CBS newsboys on the rise like Ben Tracy and Whit Johnson.


And did you see that Thomas Roberts is clawing his way up the ladder, now over at MSNBC? True fans will remember Thomas made a delightful debut in some of my very earliest wrestling fiction posts, including taking his tag team partner, Rob Marciano, by surprise in singles competition, illustrating that Thomas is a wrestling kinkster and erotic sadist in his own right (welcome to the family, Thomas!).

Indeed, Matt Gutman broke a bitter drought for me in newsboy infatuations, completely earning him my #5 most favorite moment in blogging in 2010. As the new year approaches, I’m toasting to Matt’s good health, unbuttoned shirts, muscled arms, and a lively News Division in 2011!


Italian Hotness in Siberia

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New readers to this blog may not even know of my obsession with Chris Cuomo. Chris has been off my radar for a while now, particularly since his departure from Good Morning America ripped him out of my cozy, rousing morning routine. Banished to Siberia (aka 20/20), Chris has just been out of sight, and thus not popping up often as a subject for me to obsess over here.

I recently caught up with Chris’ twitter account, where I was directed to his new Facebook page and behind-the-scenes video prep for 20/20 over at ABC. It’s not a lot, but it made me swoon all over again. There’s not a lot new by way of pics, but a few choice photos are making me fantasize about grabbing those big Italian pecs and squeezing.

I note that there are fishing pics, but not the shirtless pics that showed the world Chris’ hard, smokin’ hot bod a year and a half ago. He can play coy all he wants. Now that we’ve been given a taste of what lies beneath, we’re all filling in the gaps in what we don’t see with him in a suit and tie. He remains an object of lust, a character in fantasy, and completely wasted on Friday night newsishness. I’m glad to see that he’s got a PR machine keeping him and his hotness in the public eye, though.

Of course, in my imagination, we last saw Chris escort his ABC news protege and fellow news stud, Matt Guttman, to the ring in a young news stallions match against Abercrombie boy, David Muir. The match is between Matt and David, and David comes out on top, but somehow, it’s Chris coming out on the bottom.

Good God, he still does things to me…

Drama

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The first wrestling fiction matches I wrote featured newsmen going at it in an elimination tournament. I do enjoy imagining news personalities ripping off their suits and ties and getting down and dirty in no-holds-barred battles. My latest upload to the Producer’s Ring is my take on a pro-style battle between ABC news hunks, Matt Gutman and David Muir.
These two beautiful boys made catastrophic oil spills seem somehow sexy this summer. I’m not sure who sexed up man-made environmental disaster more. For that reason alone, I tossed the two of them into the ring in my imagination to battle down until one of them comes out on top.
Because ABC News seems to be out front in maintaining a stable of lustworthy newsboys, Matt and David each arrive with a cornerman to watch their backs. Matt’s hitched up with my perpetual newsboy object-of-lust, Chris Cuomo. You knew Chris would be making another appearance in my wrestling fantasies. Don’t act surprised.

David shows up with giant man, Bill Weir as his mentor. I get the hit that Bill isn’t a simpleton news reader, and smarts are sexy, if you ask me. So in my imagination, he’s a master tactician and brains-behind-brawn, coaching young David with masterful skill.

And, as always, Carter Evans is your host with the absolute most. I’ve noticed that in real life Carter looks like he’s been putting on a few pounds lately, which could force some character adjustments (still sexy as hell… just with the beef outweighing the pretty… that could reshuffle his potential in one way or another). Carter takes advantage of his monopoly of the microphone to continue his psychological assault on the man he humiliated for the pilot tournament championship, Cuomo. Drama, drama, drama… as seems entirely appropriate for a homoerotic pro-style wrestling fantasy.

I’m a Twit

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It appears that I am crawling on my hands and knees into another corner of the virtual time-suck of social networking. I’ve had a Twitter account for a while, but haven’t managed to figure out what to do with it, really. It’s like a pet. Sure, there’s initial excitement and interest, but when that wears off, will I still feed it and clean up after it when it defecates in the back yard?

Okay, so perhaps the pet metaphor is a bit overdrawn. In any case, having released myself from the sense of obligation to post daily here starting last month (though I’ve pretty much been doing that anyway), I’ve reconsidered Twitter. The medium is probably completely passé now. Being a chronically late-adopter, I’m accustomed to running into the party just as everyone’s moving on to the next big scene. But I’m twitting now, and having a little fun with it.
I’ve set up my blog updates to be uploaded automatically. I’ll be posting about my writing projects, both in-process and recent uploads. I’ll probably try to restrict my political opinions to Twitter, in order to restrain myself to 140 characters and perhaps not blow a gasket, as I’m prone to do when I froth at the mouth, incensed at social injustice.
I’ve already found a few gems through Twitter that make me happy. The triathalon pic of Chris Cuomo and his ready-for-primetime pecs that I posted yesterday was a Twitter-find. This video of Carter Evans reporting for CNN popped up via a Twitter feed, and as readers of my wrestling fiction know well, I’m a major, huge, let-me-be-your-groupie fanatic of CNN heart throb Carter Evans and his bedroom eyes and deviated septum. The next time we see Carter do a report on swimming pools, though, he really needs to be wearing swimwear to lend credibility to the report.


At the moment, almost no one is following me on Twitter. I’m not surprised, since I’ve been actually using it only recently. But in case you’re a twitterer, look me up. I just showed up to the party, and I’ve found myself standing alone in the corner with drink in hand and no one schmooze with.

He’s Bringing Sexy Back

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So Google tells me that the number one keyword reference for this blog is “wrestling.” That makes sense to me. Can you guess what the number 2 word is?

“Chris.” I find this pretty hilarious. Clearly, multiple posts referencing people like Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans play a part in this. But obviously, my recurring obsession with the travesty that was Good Morning America letting Chris Cuomo slip through their fingers most likely is the driving engine behind the keyword prominence of “Chris.”
Despite no longer getting a regular injection of Chris into my morning routine, I’m still a fan of Chris Cuomo. I tuned in last Friday to watch Chris guest-host GMA while George was out. Biggest crowd ever for a GMA summer concert turned out to catch a sight of Chris (okay, Black Eyed Peas also probably had a little to do with that). It was a little glimpse of the fine, fine world that could have been. Everyone was all smiles, laid back, comfortable. Sam Champion was giddy, and Chris was stringing him along with easy humor as always, like a good, hot, straight friend man-crush should.
I recently ran across this pic of Chris from the end of the New York Triathalon. Sweet man alive, look at the size of those pecs! Okay, now just try to tear your eyes away from them… I dare you. Can’t do it, can you? His nipple outlined through the fabric stretched taut across his left pec is such a sweet tease. When you can eventually refocus, you’ll also appreciate his massive shoulders and baseball biceps. Damn it! Now I’m obliged to write a new News Division match in my wrestling fiction.
ABC News is clearly led by fools. Every appearance Chris makes on GMA as their “legal expert,” and every time he’s tapped to substitute when the straight-laced little Greek is off set, they really ought to be playing him in with some Justin Timberlake. ‘Cause for those brief, glorious moments, he’s bringing Sexy Back (and those other motherfuckers don’t know how to act).

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #4

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As 2009 coasts to a close, I’m looking back at the distance I’ve covered this year. Just between you and me, I’m happy with life. I’m surrounded by love and friendship. I’m still employed and have health insurance. And I’m oddly proud of this bizarre discipline I began this year, to write a daily blog centering around my fixation with beautiful men, wrestling, and all things (well most things) gay.

For the final four days of this year, I’m counting down my top four favorite moments in blogging. This is entirely an ego trip. It’s all about me, reflecting on me, and casting my sole vote for what happened to me that I find most memorable. I realize how egotistical this exercise is. Feel free to comment on your own favorite 2009 moments (yours or mine) if you’d like.
Now, back to me. My fourth most-favorite moment in blogging this year is my capture of Chris Cuomo getting soaked in a dunking booth way, way back in May. The video of this GMA episode is no longer live, and I haven’t seen this cap anywhere else. So it’s become a cherished treasure of mine. I wonder if Chris had known then that he’d be passed over for a promotion behind George Stephapoulos before the year was out, if he’d have been so game to take Robin Roberts place in the dunking booth and show off his rippled abs. Probably… he’s such a Boy Scout.
Of course, the year-in-Chris has been full of heart wrenching drama that confirms Chris as a most memorable character for 2009 overall. His shirtless deep-sea fishing pics are, undoubtedly, the high point of the arc of the story of Chris in 2009.
Sadly, the low point was surely Chris’ announcement that he was abandoning me in the mornings and leaving GMA. I’m still bitter and a little weepy, but I’m getting over it. Matt Lauer has not filled the hole left by Chris’ absence. But, in addition to my fictional wrestling match in which Chris utterly destroys his competition in hot and sweaty action, I’m also left with an unflinching faith in the mass media to pick out some new eye candy to earn my loyal viewership before long. Like death and taxes, sex in the morning is a certainty. So my first New Year’s toast is to Chris Cuomo, soaking wet and/or shirtless, and to the masterminds of network news who are even now, I’m certain, auditioning gorgeous hunks to spice up my morning routine anew. Ching-ching…

Picking Up the Remote

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Now that Chris Cuomo is moving to 20/20 at 10 pm on Friday nights, I’m not expecting to have very much to write about him any longer. They don’t put 20/20 anchors into dunking booths to show off their stacked pecs in wet t-shirts. 20/20 anchors don’t tend to allow themselves to be photographed in shirtless hotness deep sea fishing. And, frankly, I’ve got a life, and I’m generally living it around 10 pm on most Friday evenings.
So yesterday’s send-off of Chris Cuomo on GMA will probably offer the last nuggets of Italian studliness for me to obsess over for a while. The montage of Chris-moments on GMA was pretty sweet. Chris’ interviews with Mattie Stepanek really were incredible (more because of Mattie than Chris, but regardless…). Mattie was an unbelievably wise and graceful human being, and Chris did a beautiful job of helping to tell Mattie’s story (have tissue in hand if you want to learn more about Mattie). But of course it wasn’t the journalism that caught me eye in yesterday’s retrospective of Chris’ greatest hits.
I have no idea how I missed the fantastic moment captured in the montage where Chris rolls back his short-sleeve shirt to cockily pump his massive bicep. Sam Champion is laughing, pretending not to be totally aroused. Seriously, check out the size of that arm! Personally, I’d like to see that bicep wrapped around George Stephanopoulos’ head until the little Greek cries. But that’s just me.
They call Chris’ move a “promotion.” I’m skeptical that it’s going to work out well for either my favorite 6’3″ Italian attorney-turned-journalist hunk, or for Good Morning America. As of Monday morning, they’ve already lost one loyal viewer.