Before I begin, I just want to clarify: this isn’t a list of portrayals of actual presidents in films. You’re not going to see Daniel Day-Lewis’ Abraham Lincoln or Frank Langella’s Richard Nixon, or the 53 actors who have played JFK. These are all fake presidents, which should be abundantly clear.

This is specifically for MOVIE presidents. Fictional TV presidents would be an entirely different list, but if you must know, it would have Martin Sheen’s President Bartlet at #2, AFTER Laura Roslin of BATTLESTAR GALACTICA, because I’m the worst. David Palmer of 24/Allstate would be 3rd place.

Many old men in Hollywood have practically made a career of playing the POTUS. If you’re a grizzled character actor with a nice clump of white hair and you ooze authority, you’ve likely played the thankless role of a president in a film.

Ronny Cox  (above) wins the award for most portrayals, with four, including the craptacular 1990 CAPTAIN AMERICA, MARTIANS GO HOME, MURDER AT 1600 and NADIA’S PROMISE. Since MARTIANS GO HOME came out in 1989, he’s played a President in 4 different decades, and is still doing it. NADIA’S PROMISE came out this year.

JAWS’ Roy Scheider played the President three separate times. As did Gregory Harrison. Stanley Anderson (Michael Bay’s first call, for ARMAGEDDON and THE ROCK), Henry Fonda, Louis Gossett Jr., Sam Waterston, Leslie Nielsen, Peter Coyote, Jonathan Pryce and David Rasche have each played a POTUS twice on the big screen.

TRIVIA TO IMPRESS YOUR FRIENDS: Jeff and Beau Bridges aren’t the coolest sibling duo who have both played presidents. That award goes to Dennis and Randy Quaid. Dennis for AMERICAN DREAMZ…

Whereas Randy Quaid had the country in the palm of his hands in the classic MAIL TO THE CHIEF. The movie came out in 2000, six years before Dennis ever sniffed the oval office.

14 years ago, Randy Quaid was playing the President in Disney movies and I thought I’d play for the Kentucky basketball team. Life’s weird. Speaking of…

…Charlie Sheen was the President in MACHETE KILLS.

Eric Roberts was the head of state in FIRST DOG. I don’t want to look that movie up to shatter the illusion of what it is in my head (AIR BUD + White House).

Terry Crews was the President in IDIOCRACY. His name was Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho.

Robert Rodriguez’s SPY KIDS movies didn’t fuck around. In the second film, Shooter McGavin himself played the President. Then they took a step down in SPY KIDS 3-D, opting for a little guy named George Clooney:

Lame. Far superior was the fake but judicious U.S. population who elected Jack Nicholson to the White House, right before the world became under siege by aliens in MARS ATTACKS!

Is Jack not exactly who we want making the all-important decisions for our country?

PRESIDENT THAT WON’T SNIFF MY BALLOT:

Chris Rock as Mays Gilliam in HEAD OF STATE (2003). I just hate this movie. Maybe I’m just mad that I actually paid to see this one in theaters.

HANGING CHADS/SNUBS (in no particular order):

Michael Douglas (THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT, a redundant title), Kevin Kline (DAVE), John Travolta (PRIMARY COLORS), Alan Alda (CANADIAN BACON), Tim Robbins (AUSTIN POWERS 2: THE SPY WHO SHAGGED ME), Henry Fonda (FAIL SAFE), Jeff Bridges (THE CONTENDER) and Stephen Colbert (MONSTERS VS. ALIENS). Yeah, I blew it.

5. Billy Bob Thornton as the President, LOVE ACTUALLY (2003)

Billy Bob Thornton exudes sleaze and a stinky odor that can only be described as pure, unadulterated America in the brilliant British romcom. It’s a master stroke of casting, as arrogance and charm seep out of Billy Bob’s pores in this small role. He’s inappropriate with Hugh Grant/the Prime Minister’s squeeze, he’s a bully, presumably a philandering alcoholic, and he’s exactly what the Brits and the rest of the world think of American politicians. And they’re probably right.

I’d still vote for Billy Bob Thornton in a heartbeat.

4. Morgan Freeman as President Tom Beck, DEEP IMPACT (1998)

James Earl Jones delivered the first depiction of a black president in THE MAN (1972), although Sammy Davis Jr. dreamed of being the black president as a 7 year old in RUFUS JONES FOR PRESIDENT (1933). You could make a convincing argument that 24, DEEP IMPACT and other pop culture entries featuring black actors as the President paved the way for Barack Obama. It shouldn’t have required that, but Morgan Freeman’s portrayal in DEEP IMPACT might be one of the most influential of its kind. It doesn’t get any more regal, comforting, stately and presidential than “The Voice.”

Like in life, when everything seems lost, or when humanity is on the brink, we need heroes the most. Or at least, that’s what the movies teach us, and in DEEP IMPACT, a comet could destroy the planet. Leave it to Morgan Freeman and his voice to soothe our worries, and lead the way.

3. Peter Sellers as President Merkin Muffley, DR. STRANGELOVE (1964)

In Stanley Kubrick’s hilarious black comedy about the Cold War, nuclear paranoia and the folly of politics, Peter Sellers gets a new high score. He plays three of the main characters, including the titular Dr. Strangelove, a maniacal mad-scientist role that overshadows his Captain Mandrake and…the President.

In DR. STRANGELOVE, Sellers’ President is shocked to discover that the U.S. has ordered a nuclear attack on the Soviet Union, without his permission. He finds himself in an impossible situation, amid a sea of incompetent and unruly advisers in the war room, while not exactly the brightest man himself.

Here are two classic scenes from the movie, though it’s one of those movies where every scene is famous:

2. Harrison Ford as President James Marshall, AIR FORCE ONE (1997)

In the 1990’s, we wanted a President who could kick ass and murder with the best of them. Leave it to Harrison Ford to bring the badass to the Oval Office, as he turns the President (an ex-soldier) into a 90’s action hero in Wolfgang Peterson’s AIR FORCE ONE. It’s honestly one of Ford’s best roles, as he takes down a malicious Gary Oldman and his ring of terrorists WHILE IN FLIGHT. He also delivers arguably the best line from a Fictional Movie President, in a way that only Ford could:

This list will not go quietly into the night…

1. Bill Pullman as President Thomas J. Whitmore, INDEPENDENCE DAY (1996)

There are no words, especially when Bill Pullman stole them all, in probably the greatest movie speech ever:

All of the goosebumps.

Oftentimes, I’m on my own, and that’s fine by me. If I waited for my friends to do something, or only did activities that appealed to them, I’d likely never get out of the house. Ever since I crumpled my acceptance form to the University of Washington, merely 15 minutes away from home, and took on the sojourn to an unknown, tiny town in upstate New York for college, many of my best times have come from my willingness to do exactly this. To just go, and see what my whims or instincts, or Yelp’s, Guy Fieri’s or Rick Steves’ instincts, will carry me into.

This random Saturday (Feb. 8th) in Los Angeles was one such day. I had a meeting for work (that I’m not at liberty to discuss at this time), and found myself in Hollywood on a sunny, glorious afternoon with nothing to do. The kind of conundrum people in Boston and NY wish they had right now.

I could bus back home (I’m one of the only LA residents who actually uses the infrequent, plodding and frustrating Metro system), or I could walk.

A lot.

Because I didn’t really bother zooming in on the Google Map of my phone, and because I had all the time in the world (a wonderful feeling), I decided it was time to make a Joss Whedon-tinged pilgrimage, and see what happens. That led to a roughly 4.3 mile jaunt down Vine (then Rossmore), then east on Wilshire, arriving at 4121 Wilshire Blvd, hoping this location still existed.

En route, I basically stumbled through one of the richest parts of LA, including past the infamous El Royale Apartments (above), erected in 1927 by William Douglas Lee, and keeping people erect until today. Check out the view and the inside:

Here are some other neat, massive apartment buildings likely filled with Arnold Schwarzenegger’s illegitimate children. Is it me or does the first one kind of look like an insane asylum, or a corporate building owned by Max Schreck or something? The day time maybe doesn’t sell that thought.

I sped past the Wilshire Country Club, keenly aware that I was the only one walking around (and not in a luxury vehicle). I also realized that I probably shouldn’t be snapping pictures at private homes, especially since many of them have legitimate security guards watching the house 24/7. I did anyway. Here are a few places I’d settle to live in:

For whatever reason, my recurring daydream involved bumping into Seth Rogen and smoking a blunt with him. I don’t even smoke. Not sure why it didn’t include a hot older woman who was antsy at home, like a Michelle Pfeiffer type. But I’m weird.

I also imagined actually living in a house like these, and while I liked some of the architecture, even if I could ever afford it, I just don’t think LA is where I’d want to live. Of course, if I ever find myself in that position, I’d likely sell out faster than I’d last during a sexual experience with Jennifer Garner (circa ALIAS days).

If this photo wasn’t taken from an iPhone, maybe it’d look more impressive. This is the view from Wilshire. Can it get any more Hollywood than this picture? Well, add droves of tourists, an empty tour bus, a hot dog stand and a dude dressed up as a Transformer, and you’d pretty much have it.

But enough of this shit. Finally, after a long ass walk, I reached the Hyperion Hotel, the sweet exterior location of Angel, Cordy, Gunn, Fred and Wesley’s base for seasons 2-4 of ANGEL.

BEHOLD!

The base was described by production designer Stuart Blatt as “an old hotel, something [the writers] could use to evoke the past of Los Angeles and some of Angel’s history, something kind of creepy and spooky but not too dark because they didn’t want something depressing…” It certainly fit the bill, and became the most iconic location on the show, aside from Cordelia’s chest. Clearly it stuck with David Boreanaz, as the hotel was even mentioned in a season 2 episode of BONES. It also got talked up in another Whedon classic, DOLLHOUSE.

In 1999, the apartment building, the Los Altos Apartments, was listed on the National Register of Historical Places. It was built in 1925 and was used as a luxury apartment and hotel for Clara Bow, Bette Davis, Mae West, Douglas Fairbanks and a little guy named William Randolph Hearst. I mean, they’re no Angel or Fred, but impressive nonetheless. AND YOU CAN STILL LIVE IN IT. RIGHT NOW.

While I was there, soaking all this in, a guard popped out and asked if I lived there. The guy’s either an idiot (I was a sweaty dude wearing a backpack taking pictures), or more likely, was using this question to get me off the property. I left pretty soon after, instead of staking the bastard, or claiming that I used to live in the house….fifty years ago. Either way, the nerd inside me was tingly all over during this experience.

If you want to live in such esteemed company, it’s only $1,850/month for a studio. A 2 bedroom apartment could be had for up to $3,600/month. What a steal.

I thought about turning around and going back the way I came back up to Hollywood, but thankfully I wasn’t a moron, and wandered toward Koreatown (or K-Town, if you think that’s cool to say).

In the heart of it, it appeared to be only hair salons and restaurants. My afternoon’s success called for one thing: BEER.

And that’s when I stumbled upon one of the best places to get beer and fatty foods in LA: Beer Belly.

Beer Belly is one of those “nice” places that serve craft beer and “classy” ways to ingest macaroni and cheese, pulled pork and french fries. I love these places, even if they’re overpriced.

I had the Duck Fat Fries, served with Raspberry Mustard (awesome), their “Frankenstein” ketchup (maybe even better) and a couple great beers. The fries were far too salty, but still fantastic, though I couldn’t help but want more duck than the duck skin cracklins and the duck fat oil the fries were drenched in. That probably means I’m getting Death by Duck next time, which is the duck fat fries with duck confit on top. Holy hell.

Their beer menu changes daily (the bathroom had a chalkboard advertising a keg opening on a Sunday, with deals occurring until the keg ran out), and after sampling a watery Irish Red from TAPS (of Brea, CA), I settled on the Holiday Spruce Ale from Craftsman Brewing Company based in Pasadena. As one might expect, it was like sipping on a Christmas tree, and that somehow translated into me calling it a smooth, easy drinking beer in my notes. I need help.

I followed that up with Modern Times’ Lost Horizon, a double IPA from the holy land that is San Diego. The beer itself was on the verge of being one of those IPA’s that’s just hoppy as hell because it’s supposed to impress you, without much in the way of flavor, but it skated by that potential catastrophe, thanks in large part to smelling like happiness. For more of my thoughts on beer, check out Untappd.

Beer Belly would’ve demanded future visits if only for the beer….but the food. I must try their Grilled Cheese, which has 4 kinds of cheese (Asiago, Gruyere, Cheddar, Goat Cheese), topped with bacon and a heaping portion of maple syrup. I could smell it all over the place, which made me hard and disgusted at the same time.

Bree, my delightful server, also recommended the Buttermilk Fried Chicken and the beer & chipotle braised short rib. I almost came on the spot, and somehow managed to resist ordering EVERYTHING on the menu. They have deep fried pop tarts, people. Bree also bought my second beer for me, so I was in love/tricked into tipping more to make up for the “savings.” One of my other notes about the place: “I want to be inside all the waitresses.” Real classy Andy. Beer Belly rules.

Before I had settled upon Beer Belly, I discovered another place for future reference. While I said earlier I’m fine going almost everywhere alone…this demanded company. This demanded a whole night dedicated to its revelry. This demanded Leonardo DiCaprio. Check out…

CAFE JACK. I don’t know where to begin with this place. It’s been themed after the TITANIC since 2007, merely TEN years after the movie came out. But that’s better than never to put a kitschy boat in a sketchy parking lot, where one buys coffee and sushi (they have a “Jack and Rose” sushi roll). It’s gotta be a stop on a Bachelorette party, or an ironic date with a game partner, or a place to get plastered at. It need to be on everyone’s itinerary.

The reviews are mixed, as one might expect, but that hasn’t deterred me from telling everyone I know about this place, in hopes that it can kick off a bizarre bar crawl.

With a spring in my step, I walked past Biergarten, then turned around and stared at the bar for a moment. I wavered on whether or not to grab another beer, or continuing on back up to Hollywood (I had an improv show to go to)…but it was that kind of day, and I sauntered in after a few moments hesitation. Plus I past this guy, who made the decision for me:

No idea.

Within moments, I realized that while trekking up Western, I had stepped in pungent dog shit, and I mistakenly brought it in with me to Biergarten. I quickly ordered a beer, and then stomped my entire body on the parking lot outside, rubbing my soles against the grass, to no avail. From there, I went to the bathroom and wiped the poop off of my shoes with paper towels, while the server was confused if I was staying or leaving. I still haven’t been able to get all of the poop off those shoes.

Needless to say, it was a fantastic entrance to a bar, let alone a Korean/German hybrid sports bar with one of the better beer menus I’d seen in LA. They have German fried rice, drunken chicken, and peanut butter sliders, apparently, but this was a beer-as-dinner sort of day.

I went with the Hop Tanker, a 9% double IPA, and it felt like heaven. If heaven gives you a hangover, an empty wallet and was from El Segundo. It had some great citrus and fruit on the tongue, while still remaining a kick in the pants.

Because I’m an idiot (and brilliant), I tried The Dudes’ Brewing Company’s Juicebox Series: Blood Orange, based out of LA (seen above). It was strong, overly sweet and thick, like the Big Lebowski fanbase, but it also kind of tasted like sweat. I was not a fan, but there wasn’t anything that I disliked about the concept.

Then I was off, to make it up to Hollywood. I got there in plenty of time to spare for the Doctor Who themed improv show that awaited me at iOwest (alumni from the entire iO program include Pete from 30 ROCK, Stephen Colbert, Andy Dick, Chris Farley, Tina Fey, Dave Foley, Neil Flynn, Jon Favreau, Dave Koechner, Lutz, Jack McBrayer, Seth Meyers, Tim Meadows, Amy Poehler, Mike Meyers, Danny Pudi, Key & Peele, Vince Vaughn, Jason Sudekis, Adam McKay, Eric Stonestreet, Glenn from THE WALKING DEAD and many more).

You know what that meant: more beer. Next up was the Blue Palms Brewhouse, another pub with a great beer list, including two of their own (brewed by Firestone Walker).

I started off with the aptly named Blitzen (from Faction Brewing of Alameda, CA), which was what made the Doctor Who Live! so much better than it really was. My quote for the beer: “Hell yes this is dangerous and hell yes I want all of it inside me.”

I followed it up with one of their own beers, the Blue Palms IPA, which was as bland and lame as any IPA you’ve ever had. Firestone apparently doesn’t care when there name isn’t on it. It was impressive that I could even distinguish anything at this point, but the bucket of salty pretzel balls surely helped (a bucket of salty pretzel balls ALWAYS helps, even if they burn your hand off). I was told to order the Truffle Burger next time I was there.

(Note: the next day I would randomly find myself back at the Blue Palms Brewhouse, and sampled their esteemed Truffle Burger, which was as rich and over-the-top as you might’ve expected. Not sure how much I truly loved it, but it was great.)

I found this hilarious at the time, and still do.

I finally arrived at iOwest, where I believe I had another beer while waiting for the show to start (because it was late), and talked football (GO HAWKS) at the bar with a couple folks, including a Minnesota Vikings fan and (gasp) a woman (no idea what team she was into).

I’d be lying if I said I internalized most of the show, but I still had a blast, and enjoyed the festivities, likely more because of the concept than many of the jokes. Crafting a new doctor, new companions and getting a different time period or locale every show highlights how the real show has lasted 50 years, and how an improv show based on it can last just as long.

Perfect photo for a caption contest.

Afterwards, it was time for another beer. Kidding: I took the bus and went sweet sleepy time. But before I did, I took a picture of the most important star on Hollywood Blvd: