Braff is the sort of cuddly pseudo-hipster who substitutes having an ironic Three’s Company lunch box and listening to Frou Frou for an actual personality. You know, just because you aren’t a date rapey jock doesn’t mean you need to be such a weenie. We here at deadman/party are living proof. Even if we wanted to buy Mr. Braff a beer, we think he would probably decline and invite us instead to a slumber party where we could wear choo choo train jammies, make s’moores in an easy bake oven, and play an ironic game of Chutes and Ladders. If we’re not mistaken, Braff does a voice over for a golden retriever puppy in some kind of commercial. He is perfectly cast in this role but even though we love puppies, they do not share many qualities with grown men with whom we want to drink.
It is not all bad for Mr. Braff. He seems like a nice enough fellow and if you needed a babysitter or a designated driver, he would be near the top of the celebrity list. If the Thanksgiving table was full, we are sure he would gleefully pull up a Fisher-Price chair to the kids table with nary a complaint (we bet Braff loves mashed potatoes) and if we need to know where to get a horn or a replacement banana seat for a vintage Schwinn cruiser, he would be especially useful. In spite of this, we still believe our friend Annie’s Myspace profile says it best: “People I Would Like to Meet: Girls who don’t list Garden State as their favorite movie.” You did this Mr. Braff, and for that you have earned a punch in the face.