Wednesday, January 10, 2018

The Year of Airbrushed/Sandblasted Perry Block

One of my book signings, no doubt.

This year - 2018 - will be The Year of Perry Block.

That’s because this year my first book hits the literary world. It is called “Perry Block – Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute” and it is destined to become not only a “Best Seller” but a “Better than Best Seller.”

That category of book doesn’t exist yet, of course, but it will doubtless be created exclusively to handle the ginormous sales of my book.

But first it is necessary for me to promote “Perry Block – Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute.” And I have been advised by my publisher that proper promotion will necessitate utilization of a recent high quality photograph of myself. 

Now I haven’t been much for taking pictures since they began purveying more wrinkles than the plot of an Agatha Christie novel. So I sought the services of a professional photographer, locating a nearby practitioner of the photographic arts named Marv Clickson.

I told Marv that I was apprehensive about having pictures of myself taken, but he assured me everything would be all right.

“Perry, with the airbrushing/sandblasting tools I have today,” he said, “we can truly improve on reality.”

“Really? Can you improve upon the reality of the last 25 years?”

“Not that reality. The reality of how you look on camera.”

“Well,” said I, “that’s good too.”

We set to work. First we shot a series of pictures of me in various shirts and sweaters.  We learned that - whatever may have been true in the past - blue, brown, green, red, orange, puce, and alabaster are no longer my colors. So we went with a basic black sweater, at least until scientists invent more colors. 

“Okay, Perry,” said Marv “what would you like me to do with your hair?”

I responded.

“No, I cannot make you look like Kenny Loggins on the cover of the 1972 album Loggins and Messina.”

“Oh. Then, can you give me a couple more strands of hair in the front?”

He did.

Next we looked at my forehead, which thanks to a medical condition called vitiligo has lost its natural pigment and is now as white as network television in the 1950’s.

“Can we make my forehead sort of George Hamilton-colored but only as of the start of the tanning season, not as of late August?”

He did.

“Now, Perry," observed Marv, "your eyes possess dark circles deep enough for an archaeological dig. But I can take care of that."

He did.

We traveled south to my nose.

I told him what I would like have done with it.

“Perry,” he said sympathetically, “I can do many things but photographic technology just hasn’t advanced far enough to tackle your nose.  I can remove your nose hairs.”

He did.

My new profile photo emerged, and I must admit that it – and I - looked pretty good.  Aside from a sort of airbrushed/sandblasted quality that makes it appear as if you are looking at me through cheesecloth.

One more airbrush, though, and I’d be a Playboy Playmate.

If only Marv Clickson and I could manipulate my picture throughout the book promotion instead of me having to do it, there’s no telling how many books I might sell!

After all this year - 2018 - will be The Year of Airbrushed/Sandblasted Perry Block.

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4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I think he should have left the nose hair in and added some extra coming out your ears.
Other than that, I think Merlin The Photo Magician did a fine job. You look almost human.

One correction to the text, those are the folks lined up to buy "One Idiot Short of a Village."

Perry Block said...

Air brushing is the best thing in personal appearance next to being looked at by near-sighted people at 20 paces. OH, and you're right - those are the folks lined up to buy "One Idiot Short of a Village." It was a one day only "Buy this Book, Spend a Night with Russell Gayer!" Special. Eat your oysters!

Gardenlover said...

I just heard from Quincy MacGoo. He loves your new author photo.
We can rightfully assume this large crowd can't wait to read "The Joy of Watching Paint Dry." The rest of the book is rather dry and mediocre.

Perry Block said...

If only I could have written "The Joy of Watching Paint Dry." Well, maybe one day I'll just lose all my inhibitions and who knows? I'll watch two coats dry!