Anthropologists may be yet to come up with a Richter scale of sorts that indicates just how much is "too much beauty," but this I know for sure: once your genetic makeup flies past the point Al Gore would call "global warming hot," expect no longer to able to carpool an elevator without someone looking at you like they wanna cocktail chromosomes with you.
FINALLY, I can relate to one of your "newsletter" or whatever you call them
I call them Jonathan.
And I wrote this thinking of your hat.