The Pasta Carbonell

Over 400 years prior to publishing of Twilight, William Shakespeare famously wrote, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Of course, he was speaking from the perspective of a suicidal teenager. 

Today we at the Pasta Carbonell pose the following inquiry: does that which held true for the original emo-couple also hold true for the finest thespian of the 21st century? Should the words of a character who offed herself before she could even legally purchase a beer be applied to a man who is figuratively and literally immortal? 

Consider the following.....

Nestor, a name truly fit for a titan, is composed of the letters N,E,S,T,O, and R. 

What do we know about these letters? Let us begin with N

N as in Nocturnal 

Nestor, while quite adept at fulfilling all daytime needs, is actually more effective at night. It was at 8:30 pm on Thursdays that he first breathed life into the situational comedy that was Suddenly Susan, turning pedestrian photographer Luis Rivera into a haunting Don Juan who (according to 2000 census data) would soon appear in the dreams of 71% of Americans ages 15-48.

E as in Electrifying

Sure we could have gone with Eyes or Eyelids, but clearly our last post thoroughly covered Mr. Carbonell's baby browns. Consequently, the electricity that bursts from Nestor's piercing glare has been known to keep villages in rural Nevada warm when the Hoover Dam can't quite cut the mustard.

S Sophistication

It has been hypothesized that in a past life, Nestor likely served as a Duke or Earl ruling nobly over a small feudal society, too regal for peasantry but too humble for kingship. As we know him today, the Bestor brings his quiet grace and urbane essence to the silver screen. Taking roles like the aforementioned Luis Rivera or Richard Alpert (who in the hands of a hack like Simon Baker would likely been killed off by season 4) and elevating them to demigod status.

T as in TOTAL FOX

Oh come on, like you weren't thinking the same thing? Even those of us born with a Y chromosome know it. When the man walks in the room, the mirrors take a bow. 

O as in Oasis

Much like the dying man in the desert who is saved by the lone spring in the vast ocean of sand, the mere sight of "Nestor Carbonell" in the opening credits make amends for the countless hours wasted on your Belushis, Carusoes, Cool Js, or Mario Lopezes. 

R as in Realistic

Sure we at The Pasta love to speak of Nestor in laudatory, almost heavenly terms, but that isn't why we love him. It's not the olive complexion, the Brando-esque screen presence, or the Harvard-trained wit. Nay, it is his accessibility. When I look at Nestor.The Carbonell, I do see a deity, but I also see a man. It as if I walked into a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf and Thor, the God of Thunder, is sitting across from me reading the Economist. I can see Nestor and I roasting portabello mushrooms on the grill discussing the final inning of my daughter's softball game. To know Nestor is to know reality, and to know reality is to truly be alive.

So by another name would a rose smell as sweet? Perhaps the better question is: If a Carnation was called a Carbonell, what would you buy your wife for Valentine's Day?

So, it's a killer sunday, and I'm chillin here, got the old chemical war gloves on, finishing up Preparation AG-873 of Nestor's soon-to-be-sponsored hair wax with Cement Hold (tm) called CarboGEL (put all the empahsis on the final syllable) - AND WHAT THE DICK DO I FIND JUST HANGIN OUT ON THE INTERNET????  

Nothing else but the following picture.  

You might want to put your earplugs in now so as to muffle your own screams.

(long dramatic web reading pause)

Last night it finally happened.

The thing I feared most finally occurred and with it came a shocking realization of my own mortality.

It was 8:45 PST and the water in my bubble bath had begun to head just south of lukewarm. I was deeply engrossed in the final chapter of Captain Corelli’s Mandolinwhen suddenly...RRRRINGG!!!....my alarm went off, reminding me that I only had a brief fifteen minutes until LOST started.

I quickly threw on a robe, slipped on my Uggs, and threw the Jiffy Pop onto the stove….oh how I cherish Tuesdays!

Sixteen minutes later, when I was cuddling under my Attack of the Clones sleeping bag, watching a rerun of Dancing with the Stars, and scraping my jaw off the floor, I remembered.

LOST was gone….and with it, so too was Nestor.

Thus, “Network TV”, of you I propose the following inquiry: Will the rainbow that is Nestor Carbonell end with a pot of gold or a cauldron of heartbreak? The choice is yours…..

Sometimes I imagine that Nestor and I are two pterodactyls at the end of the Cretaceous Period.

All at once I feel every pycnofibre on my wings stand directly on end.

I peer behind me and it’s him flapping his wings….my Nestorsaur.

“KRRRRAW” he sings, and I slowly nod my head in his direction. It’s time to take flight.

We ascend to the North, soaring higher and higher like a child’s discarded balloon on a summer’s day.

It’s 220 million years ago, the end is near, but we don’t care….we are free.

There will be singing! There will be laughter! There will be bagels!