While we're focusing on looks, here's a slice of life that's been haunting me:
When I was an art major in college, just about every art class - painting, drawing, design - required a "self-portrait" for the final project. While I was laboring over one of these projects, trying to get it right, I noticed "this looks like Michael Jackson." What the hell?!
No matter what I did to get my face on the paper, it looked like Jacko. I DON'T think I look like Michael Jackson. I'm a Lou Diamond Philips guy, right?
A year or two ago we took our kids to Chuck E. Cheese and a family in another booth kept staring at me. I wondered what their problem was, but didn't really care. I got up to fill our cups with fountain drinks and the family grabbed my arm as I walked past. There were three or four generations of girls their and a couple of guys. The girl who was about my age (the one who grabbed my arm) said, "We wanted to tell you that you look JUST LIKE Michael Jackson."
I said, "Is that an insult or a compliment?"
The family erupted in praise, "Compliment! You look like a young, hot Michael Jackson."
I think I ran. I can't remember. It was a good time for another of my trademark mental blocks. But apparently I'm giving off a Jacko vibe, to the people who knew what he looked like before he destroyed his face.