A small, horny blessing: This week, The New Yorker published a lengthy profile of Barry star and broad-shouldered man Bill Hader. As the Cut has previously established, Hader is Totally Kind of Hot. He seems to have a high level of emotional intelligence, he looks like the hottest guy at your office, and even his impressions really Do It for us. Before I go on, I’ll give you some time to enjoy the New Yorker profile for yourself. It should only take you about two years.
Are you done? If you are, or even if you got only halfway through and then emailed it to yourself to finish later, you have learned, or reconfirmed, that Bill Hader is extremely hot. Here is what is so hot about him:
Hader’s face—lupine smile, wide blue eyes, and accent-mark eyebrows—is at once transparent and supremely controlled.
Lupine. Supremely controlled. Hot.
Snacks, in general, are hot, and someone who appreciates a variety of high-quality snacks is extremely hot, because it makes me feel like I could say something really vague like, “I want … something? Food?” and that person could go to the bodega and find the exact perfect snack for me at that time. What could be sexier?
According to the New Yorker piece, Hader’s friends from his hometown of Tulsa accuse him of having gone “Hollywood” because he doesn’t drink or smoke anymore, he drinks chaga tea and kombucha, eats sprouted bread, and meditates. But he also still sees himself as the guy who, “writing unproductively at 4 a.m. at ‘S.N.L.,’ slunk into the Gristedes downstairs and gobbled an Entenmann’s coffee cake in the aisle.” A true polymath of snacks.
His practical approach to lightbulbs
Hader tells The New Yorker, “All the girls I liked growing up loved the Chris Pratt kind of guy who was in the woods with a chainsaw. He’s a fucking man, and I am not. If the light bulb is out, I say, ‘Oh, I should call the light-bulb guy.’”
The “storm deep in his eyes”
At one point, director Greg Mottola says, “I would see flashes of anger in Bill, a storm deep in his eyes, and I’d think, Oh, man, I hope he doesn’t turn that at me. And then he’d contain it and be back to his gentle, Midwestern nasal twang.”
Bill, you hot, stormy man, thank you.