Wednesday

Welcome to My Handsome Life


It's good to be handsome. Which I am. It's also good to be tall and rich, which I'm not. My father was handsome and he knew that as well. Once I overheard him say to himself as he finished his morning shave, "Ed Crowley, you gorgeous sonuvabitch, don't you ever die on me."  But he died relatively young leaving ma and me just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.                        

 I never learned to play that guitar, settling for the bagpipes instead. Most of my life was spent as an  Art Director and Political Cartoonist. But all that was yesterday- a harsh reality if I weren't so damned handsome.

Saturday

Other Than That, Mrs. Lincoln, How Did You Like The Shirt?

Pictured here after being arrested for his role in the plot to assassinate President Lincoln, Lewis Powell poses handsomely on the deck of the U.S. monitor Saugus in1865 in a classic pullover available now at My Handsome Store!

Thursday

The Expendables

During the heady days of "revolution" in the early '70's calling in a bomb threat to a high school was a common occurrence. The reasons were varied- ranging from being denied our constitutional right to smoke during shop class to just needing an excuse for a cheap laugh.

Sixteen million men served in the miltary during World War Two. After the war, the officers went on to New York City to work as executives on Madison Avenue or Pratt and Whitney to build airplane engines. The rest became phys-ed coaches at the nation's junior and senior high schools.
A man who, just a few scant years earlier as a 17-year-old Marine faced down a suicide charges by waves of  drug-crazed soldiers of the Japanese Imperial Army screaming "banzai" at the top of their lungs is going to be pretty unmoved about  a few drug-crazed hippies threatening to "bring down the system" from the safety of their "headquarters" next to the phone booth at the local Royal Castle. 

Nowadays a simple fist fight brings out the National Guard and pleas for calm from the Vatican. The school is shut down, renamed and repainted to help erase the trauma and finally reopened a week later with teams of counselors on hand to ease the students back into their routines.

To members of the Greatest Generation who were our teachers back in the seventies, bomb scares were viewed at worst, as a nuisance and at best, as a chance for the staff to catch an extra cigarette break.

They never bothered to call the cops choosing instead to handpick a team of students to "look for a bomb."  But who should they pick? Certainly not the star athletes, science nerds and valedictorian who were sent out to the parking lot to cower with the rest of the student body. The students chosen to comb the roofs for IED's were picked from the bottom of the barrel- the Expendables.

The Expendables could best be described as DECA students who all held jobs and non-DECA students who were unfit for the workplace.

 DECA stood for Distributive Education Something Something - a work release program designed to give students practical experience in the work place where they received hands-on training in grocery bagging and urinal cake replacing in preparation for a career in dish-washing, bagging groceries and replacing urinal cakes.

The DECA kids missed most of the bomb scares because they were at work by 9 a.m. Nobody even knew their names because they were never there. That left those students who couldn't tell the difference between a petrie dish and a dessert plate to conduct the searches.

I could hold the crowd gathered in the parking lot in the palm of my hand as I stood at the edge of the cafeteria roof waving to friends and pretending I was going to jump or fall off. The searches ended when the teachers signaled by collectively stamping out the butts on the asphalt.

Our "team" was called into action several times during my senior year. Serving as an effective deterrent, no bombs were ever found. The season of unrest passed as graduation approached.

At the end of the year, trophies and scholarships were handed out, beauty queens were crowned and varsity letters were passed out to all the jocks. The kids in Distributive Education Something Something were recognized in the yearbook but not a word about "we few, we happy few, we band of brothers" some of whom went on to protect the school during the summer school session and a private "graduation" in August.

The Seabees and Merchant Marines were never considered real military no matter how much danger they faced during World War Two. It took them nearly half a century to get official recognition and government benefits. We're not waiting.


Your letter is ready, Sir- complete with faux-Fusilier medal emblazoned on your coffee mug. Take it from an old pro- hand wash only!

Monday

Fly on the Gossamer Wings of Handsome!

The first in our exciting new product Air Handsome product line.
"Put out your hand and touch the face of God."


Relive the Golden Age of Air Travel when female Flight Attendants were called "Stewardesses," male flight attendants were called "Baggage Handlers" and the TSA were called "Department Store Security Guards."
BUY IT NOW!

Light up your Holidays!

The perfect way to thank your staff  for just $2.95.
Ordering 100? Take 36% off!
My Handsome Store Holiday exclusive!

Tuesday

"Let the word go forth - I am handso... A BERLINER!"

BUY IT NOW!
Chester A. Arthur
 POTUS 1881-1885

Most historians agree that Chester A. Arthur, (1881-1885) was the least handsome Commander in Chief  followed by fellow one-termers Jimmy Carter (1977-1981) and Zachary Taylor (1849-1850.)


                             
                                       Zachary Taylor
                                       POTUS 1849-1850
 To be fair to "Old Rough and Ready," Taylor died after just  sixteen months
 in office and may have been simply having a bad hair day when his
 daguerreotype was made. His running mate and successor,
 Millard Fillmore was much uglier in this non-historian's opinion.

1960 Nixon-Kennedy televised debate
In 1960, Senator Kennedy and Vice President Richard Nixon squared
 off in the nation's first televised Presidential debate. Nixon, recovering
 from an injury and sweating profusely under the hot studio lights
 dabbed at his face and lifted off enough "Man Tan" to expose
 his infamous five o'clock shadow. The tanned and relaxed Senator
 went on to win the election by a less-than-handsome 100,000 votes!


‘God, why did you make me so beautiful?’

Read more: http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2013/11/sex-in-the-senate-bobby-baker-99530_Page2.html#ixzz2lIbFbjSe

Saturday

My Time in Uniform


The author (left) on duty at Carlin Park, Jupiter, Florida, ca. 1973

Ocean Lifeguards (not to be confused with lake or swimming pool "lifeguards") are the nation's frontline of defense. A cross between the Coast Guard and Navy Seals, ocean guards see far beyond the swimmers, scanning the horizon, torpedo buoy in hand, for boatloads of refugees, pirates, German U-boats (particularly during World War 2,) giant radioactive sea turtles (more of a Japanese phenomenon) or smart-ass surfers drifting into the swimming area.
My service as an Ocean Lifeguard ended after two years when the pressure of holding a full time job and cramming for my "History of Math" class at Junior (later Community now State) College simply became too much. The future was calling and it was time to hang up my lanyard and slather on one last coat of Bain D'Soleil.

"Hero" is the most overused word in the English language, except when it comes to Ocean Lifeguards. They are not, by nature, "attention whores"  like firefighters are.You won't find them misusing taxpayer time and money muscling up in the station house gym so they can pose for yet another "calendar to raise money for charity." 

Saving lives is its own reward. We did it because it was our calling - to give something back. The grateful look in the eyes of a sobbing young mother whose toddler you plucked from the undertow as she pushes a ten dollar bill into your hand to "buy yourself a carton of cigarettes" was all the "attention" we ever needed. 

Wednesday

The Pleasure of My Company



I believe a man never looks better than when he's dressed in black tie. Or better yet- white tie.

The first dinner jacket or 'tuxedo" I ever wore was a cheap, out of style $15 number I rented for the 1971 Jupiter High Junior-Senior Prom. All the other guys blew $30 or more on gaudy jackets and ruffled shirts topped with gigantic butterfly bowties. I recall feeling slightly uncomfortable in my old rig- like Don Draper at a tractor pull. Adding to my miserable attire was my crowning glory: half brown/ half blond shoulder length hair- courtesy of a bottle of Clairol's Summer Blond that I split with my future art school roommate a year earlier.

__
"Blonde" leading the Blonde. The Jupiter High Junior-senior Prom, 1971. "Her Majesty" never spaketh to me again after that night.



                                             
I caved to current fashion the following year and
 lost most of my blond hair  after cutting it into
 a stylish "shag."  My demeanor took a serious turn
 that year as my focus turned to pursuing
 my post-graduation dream of being a lifeguard
 and "surfing all day."

New Years Eve, 1989,
in a smart Ralph Lauren tux.
Everyone looked better
in 1989!
                 
With WPBF reporter Terri Parker in 2008.
 You simply can't go wrong in classic Brooks Brothers
black tie. I wear them while painting, at the football game
 or blacktopping the driveway. But never before 6 p.m.!

Monday

"Fine! I'll leave! With my head held HANDSOME!"

It is gratifying to see Handsome Awareness take root. Watch this very funny, poignant, very HANDSOME clip from the Jimmy Kimmel Show last night.
"I happen to have one of the best bodies here"
"You do?"
"He's wearing Spanx!"
"Those are my superhero tights. I fight crime in them!"

Thursday

La Vie Handsome


À Paris une journée particulièrement bonne de cheveux. Naturellement, journalière était une bonne journée de cheveux.

J'ai essayé d'apprendre à parler français à l'université junior de Palm Beach et ai échoué malheureux.

Ainsi tout que j'écris ici a été traduit par Babelfish- excepté le grand bloc de texte aléatoire que j'ai couperé-coll.

J'ai juste ajouté cela pour montrer au loin aux légions de dames parlantes non-Françaises qui suivent ma vie belle. Sans compter que ce blog est tout au sujet des images belles !

C'est moi, regardant en particulier se précipitant, dans un magasin parisien CA 1992 d'affiche. J'ai acheté une affiche de Robert Doisneau et quelques cartes postales de nudie. Avons-nous fait pas tous ?


Né à Besançon, le 26 février 1802.
Poète précoce, il concourut pour le prix de poésie à l'Académie à l'âge de 15 ans ; l'Académie crut que le jeune poète se moquait d'elle en donnant cet âge et ne lui accorda qu'une mention ; lauréat des Jeux floraux de Toulouse en 1819 et 1820, il fut nommé maître ès Jeux floraux. Il publia le premier volume des Odes et Ballades en 1822 et le second en 1826 ; entre ces deux volumes avaient paru les deux premiers romans, Han d'Islande en 1823 et Bug Jargal en 1825, et le Cénacle s'était fondé. La Préface de Cromwell en 1827 fit de Victor Hugo le chef de la nouvelle école romantique ;