I had it all. Swank Stafford blazers, all my teeth, a full head of hair and that inexplicable posture that transcends one-dimensional catalogs. I was a JCPenney model.
Fellow models jokingly called me “mansome“ the adjectival offspring of man and handsome. I fully embraced the moniker, a shameless lothario, a selfless STD benefactor. Good times.
The years flew by and my reputation as the pinnacle of catalog models grew exponentially. I even coined the hand-in-the-pocket grinning stroll, a move now seen everywhere. Each year my face graced the grail-like pages of the JCPenney catalog. Begrudgingly, I settled down and made model-babies with my model-wife.
I aged well, of course, a tastefully hoary catalog God.
If this looks like a mug shot, it is. I went the wrong way. You name it, I dealt it. I needed extra income due to the seismic shift that was well underway. Paper is dead. Our catalog division fell prey to progress. The proliferation of online shopping fossilized the catalog industry. The evidence is plain.
I apologize to those I’ve wronged, especially my family. I love you all. Stay good-looking.
In the end, I thank my lawyer, Reese Mater, for negotiating Internet access while imprisoned. My blog is my release, which leads to my final confession. By way of the prison library I’ve come to realize that I suffer from Narcissistic Personality Disorder, so, knowing people still see my face elixirs my confinement.
Please let me know you recognize my mansomeness. You do, don’t you?