GQ Gives Us the Photos We Want

As noted elsewhere yesterday, this month's GQ places its gay gaze upon six young quarterbacks tagged -- though not necessarily destined -- for stardom in the NFL.

These photos are not to be underestimated. GQ is the magazine that gave us Tom Brady hugging an adorable baby goat, which we bloggers appreciate, as years of goat-fucking jokes have helped us cope with Dreamboat's three Super Bowl rings and model-banging ways.

So, with Dreamgoat as our benchmark, let's take a look at the photos and see which ones will stand the comedic test of time.

Oh, Brady Quinn. It's not his fault he's this good-looking, you know. Here he evokes the classic brooding handsomeness of James Dean. Sadly, despite Cleveland's offensive line, football protective equipment is too effective for us to realistically expect a tragically premature death.

Am I the only one not sold on JaMarcus Russell? Here he is walking away from the jet he couldn't buy because he hasn't signed a contract yet. This picture won't be truly funny unless Russell is a colossal bust and ends up a pauper. And given the state of the Raiders, I like those odds.

Who invited Nick Lachey to the photo shoot?

Cowboy Tony Romo as a cowboy. This photo actually wasn't set up by GQ; Romo is a ranch hand in the offseason in order to maintain credibility with girlfriend/country star Carrie Whoever. It's also the best job a degree from Eastern Illinois can get you, unless you actually want to be a high school music teacher in Nauvoo.

Matt Leinart lounging at the pool with a hot chick? It's a little hard to believe, but I guess I can go along with it. Here's part of Leinart's interview with the magazine:

GQ: Okay, what’s the biggest perk of your job? And don’t be like, “I get to play in the NFL.”
Leinart: Well, you get a lot of free stuff. You get free clothes, and you get people who want to give you free suits.

GQ: Okay, but your suits are too big on you.
Leinart: You’re crazy.

GQ: I’m crazy? I work at GQ.
Leinart: No, you’re right. I’ll take your advice on that.

I love the way Leinart comes off as an easily swayed simpleton. It's part of his charm, I'm sure.

Ben.

Ben, Ben, Ben.

Somehow I'm not buying into the smooth film noir private investigator image. Is it the drunk photos all over the Internet? Is it the Miami of Ohio background? The helmetless motorcycle crash? The too-carefully-groomed goatee? The organ failure? Yes. All of that. Plus I think this (surprisingly) not Photoshopped picture more accurately portrays the man who steers the Black and Gold:

I choose to disagree with your shirt, sir.

(Thanks for putting up with all the gayness in the post. Here's a cheerleader for your patience. Her name is Keela Harris, and it's best if you not try to figure out if her head has been superimposed on the picture.)