Below is a sneak peek at this week’s Perpetual Post, which goes live tonight.  I am debating Ted Berg on the relative hotness of actor Christian Bale.  You can find his side of the argument here.

Christian Bale:  May be Batman, but he lacks Bat-Game:

It’s all too easy for me to picture a scenario in which I am forced to fend off Christian Bale’s amorous advances. The effortlessness with which I can imagine such an encounter leads me to feel strongly that it is not only a plausible chain of events, but a likely one. Any day now, our paths will cross and I will be forced to make the difficult but unavoidable decision to tell Christian Bale, “Thanks, but no thanks to sex with you.”

I don’t relish rejecting Christian Bale’s hypothetical advances, but reject them I theoretically will. Certainly I would be excited to meet him in person, and flattered by his speculative interest, but it takes more than scruffy facial hair and washboard abs that go on for days to turn my head. It’s nothing personal, of course. I would hate for the popular actor, with his boyish good looks and brooding gaze, to feel insulted by my predetermined refusal to consider a sexual encounter with him if or when the opportunity presented itself. Hopefully I can help Christian Bale to see things my way in order to mitigate any hurt feelings or ego bruising. After all, I hear he has a bit of a temper, and I’d prefer to be on his good side, even as I remain outside his pants.

I’m sure it’s not hard for Christian Bale to understand that I’m merely looking out for my best interests in preemptively refusing to consider engaging in potentially demanded future sexual activities with him. If it helps any, I’ll try to take some of the sting out of my anticipatory rejection by advising him that he’s in good company. There’s a pantheon of other actors I’d probably prefer not to sleep with if given the chance, whose hallowed ranks include Zac Efron, Gary Sinise, that guy from Wings, and Vince Vaughn. I’m still on the fence about David Caruso. That one might actually make a good enough story.

That’s part of the problem with Christian Bale-despite several enjoyable films in which he’s played violent, aggressive characters, I’m just not convinced that that’s him, which I find disappointing. I enjoyed his turn as a sociopathic serial murderer in American Psycho, and he made a decently angsty Batman, but in all honesty he looked a little more at home playing Laurie in Little Women. And if I wanted to have a one-night-stand with Laurie from Little Women, I’d be…twelve years old. Also, nobody wants to have a one-night-stand with Laurie from Little Women. He’s clearly relationship material.

Now, on the other hand, take someone like Gary Busey. While not as physically attractive as Christian Bale, the man still has a certain terrifying madcap charisma that is impossible to deny. You just know that an evening spent alone with Gary Busey will result in the kinds of stories your grandchildren will tell their grandchildren, once they’re over 18, if you survive long enough to have them. The same goes for Mickey Rourke. Crusty and frightening as they may be on the outside, on the inside those men are stark, raving lunatics who will probably request that you do it on a pile of live lobsters ordered from room service. Then they’ll pack your ears with grits and ride you like a kangaroo through Times Square. These men are the stuff celebrity encounter dreams are made of. Christian Bale, on the other hand, would probably roll over, stroke your bicep, and ask if you thought he was a better Batman than George Clooney. Feh. I wouldn’t even tell my dentist about that kind of encounter. Not even if he asked.

I guess what I’m saying is, you’re just not edgy enough for me, Christian Bale, not to sound dismissive. Even when you were recently caught on tape spewing a curse-laden diatribe at your director, you sounded more like a fuming private school father chewing out his son’s lacrosse coach. As I listened to that rant, I still saw you in my head as loveable scamp Jack “Cowboy” Kelly from Newsies, wearing a jaunty red neckerchief and kicking your heels in the air. I half expected you to finish your tirade with a forceful, “Headlines don’t sell papes. Newsies sell papes!” Not only that, but immediately after that rant was released you issued a public apology! That wilting sound you hear is my libido, Christian Bale. The iron doors have closed for you. You can take me off your list of normal people you would sleep with if given the chance. But if you happen to run into Pete Doherty, you tell that screwball where he can find me.