This is a picture of yours truly, de-Yullified, taken circa 1976:
This photo is disturbing on many, many levels.
In the first place, why did I own a shirt with a pair of smelly old shoes on it? When did my parents pick that out for me? My birthday? Christmas? I can imagine the conversation: “Old, stinky shoes?! This is perfect for Stallion!”
Keep in mind this is a posed photo for a professional photographer. Who thought it was a good idea to wear that particular shirt on picture day? And what’s with the hair – the length, the disorder, the split ends? The only part of the picture that makes any sense is the fact that I’m not smiling. I mean, come on. If you looked like this at any time in your life, would you be happy about it?
What’s so frightening about this picture is that it’s from a formal family portrait, and everyone else in the picture looks just as bad, if not worse. Indeed, I’d post the entire picture, except that I’d probably open myself up to lawsuits from some of my siblings. (My brother’s probably not happy about being in the left hand corner up there as it is.)