Man of the Hour

Who loves ya, baby?

Not sure which hour, precisely, though my faulty memory seems to recall a teen magazine reporting that he was born around 6:30 in the morning of June 20, 1960. By the time he reads this (as if), he’ll officially be 54 years old ... and still ticking. Still hot, still inspiring, still gorgeous, still my muse, still the god of my idolatry.

He was not, however, my first. That dubious honour falls on David Cassidy when I was ten, who was succeeded four years later by Michael York, who reigned supreme until that fateful day in 1985 when Ter spied JT’s face on the cover of Star Hits magazine.

Yeah, the bass god has pretty well wrecked me. Though I dabble with other lookers, I always come back to him.

I owe him an ode, but after a crazy workweek, words have finally failed me.

Happy birthday, handsome.