That is Priceless by Steve Melcher for June 25, 2021

François-Édouard Picot, the guy you want to to paint your Tinder profile avatar

Theo is waiting for the word to pose naked.

I’m so hot. I would date myself if I could. Instead I’m going to shoot sultry looks at the mirror.

Bill Haley’s great-great-grandfather.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Haley

Monsieur Le Coq au Vanity

Jean-Pierre was an affable fellow. / One who practiced a smile that was mellow. / You felt that he might / have your back, in a fight, / but, in fact, like his scarf, he was yellow.

If Wayne Newton and Elvis had a child…

Cosplay was beginning to invade his everyday life. First the high boots, then the chest insignia and the spit-curl. The last straw was wearing his jockey shorts over his trousers.

Elvis Presley’s senior picture. Dedicated on the back “To my Momma.”

Kid still doesn’t know how to tie a Windsor.

I’m parched. I’m all in with this spit curl!

Renaldo has just left the building….

I’m not only the President of Hair Club for Men, I’m also a client. (https://youtu.be/IuRLGdGnqSU)

Sad to see this all weekend

Byron who?

This here is rotten Raoul/ he’s the handsomest kid in the school. /With his collars Byronic/ and his manner sardonic/ he’s,like, you know, incredibly cool./// His dad’s so amazingly rich/ that while sleeping, his fingers twitch/and as for his mother/ he’d rather another/ but he’s stuck with the current bitch./// But please do not envy the lad. /His life will be brief, and sad./ For this little meanie/ has his own Lamborghini/ and his eyesight is horribly bad.

john belushi debuts an early blues brothers look…

The French really know how to wear a scarf!

He never did well in his classes/ and he felt that his teachers were asses/ but his problem was plain/ he was far too vain/ to be publicly seen wearing glasses../// and the reason he wore that loose tie/ was not that he wished to look “fly”/ ‘twas that he could not/ ever manage a knot/ which he blamed on his weakness of eye…/// So let us erect a memorial/ to this punk paragon sartorial/ with his hands on the wheel/ of his cocoon of steel- / and his brains in the nearby arboreal.

the ‘looks like this celebrity’ are never funny…

Reynaldo escaped the hangman when the rope broke.

Like that little girl, he had a little curl, right in the middle of his forehead.

Tom Jones, the elegantly wasted years. ♪♫ IT’S NOT UNUSUAL TO BE BORED BY ALL OF LIFE, DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH ♪♫

Rachael Maddow, the early years.

Portrait of the smug little s.o.b. who always knew you’d never be anyone he’d want to associate with.

Superman’s disguise would have worked, if only he could have controlled that darn curl on his forehead.

Hello my dear, my coat is velvet, my shirt is silky, my trousers pressed and I wear nojockey shorts!

Stay tuned for the date of the Gender Reveal Party!

Such an obvious toupé

Not enough facial hair for a Jonas.

Portrait of a young man wearing a yellow scarf: 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fran%C3%A7ois-%C3%89douard_Picot_-_Portrait_of_a_young_man_wearing_a_yellow_scarf.jpg 

has info and links that point to more info about this roughly jumbo envelope size painting.

Again, a larger strip image is shown by (⌘- or Ctrl-) clicking the image at 

http://thatispriceless.blogspot.com/2021/06/masterpiece-2735.html 

I have added a comment there (awaiting Mr. Melcher’s approval) pointing to the artist info I used to point to here. First work by this artist used here.

It is now generally understood that ‘he’ was actually Renalda.

The man they called Robespierre/ lavished infinite care on his hair/ but it mattereth not/ that your coiff’s lookin’ hot / when your head’s in a basket./ So there.

Who is this insouciant fellow/ who affects the bold accent of yellow/ and whose resolute jaw/ has the ruggedly raw/ rigueur of a big bowl of Jell-o ?/// Could it be the painter, Picot/ who wishes the world to know/ he is one handsome brute/ (though beneath his suave suit/ lurks the bod’ of an escargot?) /// That “clothes make the man” is no fiction/ – but a portraitist freed of restriction/ can create from whole cloth/(and with no fear of moth)/ an entirely different depiction..///He may fall somewhat short of a “Mona/ Lisa”, or some Sheriff from old Arizona/ for Le bon M. Picot/ was no “Sheriff Joe”/ (he’s more of an E. Lecuona*)./// And if you decide that the scarf/ is too much by ‘arf/ you ’ave my permission/ to withdraw your commission/ and toddle off somewhere to barf.

The scarf suggest he is guilty of someone’s murder…or that he killed a chicken.

I really enjoy your poetry,Sol

Beau Brummell’s new fashion for France: / Dove-gray velvet jacket and pants, / a jaune-ty bandanna / (the hue of banana), / and a vest that he purchased in Nantes. /// He hoped for some foreign romance, / but femmes wouldn’t give him a chance. / Each mademoiselle / would bid him farewell / and glance at him slightly askance.