Should she win out, I will happily content myself with Bix Beiderbecke. Not only was he a red-hot horn player, but any man who drinks himself to death at the age of 28 shows a real dedication and stick-to-it-iveness I admire.
I understand King Henry VIII of England was quite the looker in his youth. You know, before he began whacking the heads off wives and making multiple trips to the buffet.
Lose the facial hair and you’ve got Ben Folds. Hot indeed.
In 8th grade history class we watched 1776. Because I’m an idiot, I started to say that great line from Wayne’s World: “If Thomas Jefferson was a president, he’d be Babraham Lincoln.” And then I realized Thomas Jefferson was indeed a president. That was me going through my stupid phase, which, sadly, I’ve not yet grown out of.
Another anecdote from 8th grade history class: our textbook described Ronald Reagan as “ruggedly handsome.” Maybe in his earlier years he was. <quick Google image search> Actually, he kind of looks like Dustin Hoffman (or at least in one picture I found). Not my cup of tea, but I could see how some people would mistake that for hot.
Mad crush on James Stuart, Duke of Richmond and Lennox (1612-1655) from the moment I clapped eyes on him in one of those desk calendar things in my art teacher’s classroom in 1981
He was cousin to Charles I of England, and in those pre-internet days I had a heck of a time finding any information on him (I still have the snarky letter I received from the Royal Stuart Society when I wrote to them to ask for suggested reading.
This painting is in the Metropolitan Museum of Art; I begged into a school trip to New York City just to see this lifesized painting. A portrait of his brothers (who were killed in the Civil Wars) hangs in the National Gallery. And I’ve gone to his tomb in Westminster Abbey.
He was very close to Charles – he was the one who made the arrangements for Charles’ funeral, in fact. He was married to the Duke of Buckingham’s daughter (the Duke being George Villiers, who was played by Simon Ward in the Three Musketeers.) I remember actually feeling a pang of jealousy when I saw Van Dyke’s paintings of the wife!
I used to moon over that book until I were brave enough to ask the teacher if I could snip it from the calendar book – surprisingly enough she said ‘Yes.’ This was not a nun known for indulgence or leniency, so I was quite amazed. The day I carefully removed it from the calendar book (one of those spiral things) a classmate who had previously mocked my crush, suddenly decided she thought he was dishy, and as I held the picture to cut off the raggy edges, she grabbed the other side of the paper, one of those two kids tug-of-warring over a toy, demanding that I give it to her.
Not the awful ending – I let go of the page suddenly and deliberately because i was afraid she would tear it right in half, and retrieved it as she went arse over tea kettle – and the teacher did have words with her about how she’d noticed this girl had no interest in the picture until it was given to me.
I still have that copy framed upstairs in my room.