I just don’t like spies.
I don’t mean I dislike them as one might dislike an opossum, as in, “Jesus, honey—those spies got into the trashcans again last night and shit all over the sidewalk. We need to set some spy traps.” I mean, I dislike them because they’re not interesting to me.
There’s nothing about a spy—the intrigue, the danger, the cool surveillance tools masquerading as household objects (A MUSTACHE COMB-CAMERA? COOL)—that holds my attention. James Bond stuff is boring, and I’d be more interested in the Rosenbergs if they opened a really authentic delicatessen in my neighborhood.
I feel like less of a man admitting this, trust me. For the most part, spies are an inherently masculine interest, falling somewhere on the continuum of youth between dinosaurs and girls. But like outer space and racecars, they just never became a “thing” to me. That said, I’m looking forward to FX’s January 30th premier of The Americans, a show about two Russian spies (Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys) and their children living as a normal family in a 1980’s Washington DC suburb. I’ll explain why. Continue reading →