(FORTUNE Magazine) – What is beauty? The sages have argued about it for ages without reaching any agreement. Some say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, others that it's only skin deep. Still others say it's pretty much all the same after 16 drinks, or with a paper bag over its head. Be that as it may, one thing's for certain: every year all the magazines publish big features saluting actors, models, athletes, and others who look good both in and out of swimsuits, but few, if any, recognize the beauty inherent in the business people who walk by us muttering into their cell phones every day. Yet business people are as beautiful as any others! Sure you are, you big cutie! That's right--I'm talking to you!

Not to be outdone by anybody else who values shallow appearances, we hereby recognize the most glorious, fabulous, sexy specimens this business nation has to offer:

Arf Muscletone (telecommunications): With more money than God to spend on acquisitions, the guy his friends call Bowzer is by far the handsomest man on the beach. Not long ago, it was unclear who would rule the postconvergence cosmos. Now it's not. "He's the 800-pound gorilla," says one of his closest associates, who refuses to be named. "He can eat any 700-pound gorilla he wants to." Not that this voracious appetite has ruined his physique. With height to spare and a taut, washboard waistline, this is a man who could make the hearts of investors flutter even without those crystalline baby blues. In a world of vegetarians, Arf is all meat eater and then some. A-wooo!

Larry Zetz (entertainment): Like the song says, 101 pounds of fun--that's this little honeybun; every inch is packed with dynamite. "He's one of those guys--they never sleep, they never eat, they never stop having terrific ideas. I hate him," says one of his closest friends, who prefers to remain anonymous. From his perch at the top of the coolest media company in the business, Zetz is a whole lot of fab in a teeny-tiny package. Unlike most in his fast-growing sector of the business universe, Zetz does not sport a shiny, pointy bald pate that points to the North Star when he goes out to party at the Ivy every night. He's got more hair tha...Cher! It gives him a leg up on all the power balding guys. Is that the key to his charm? Perhaps!

Bernice Barber (toys): Glamour comes in all shapes and sizes, but anything above a size 6 doesn't do a whole hell of a lot for most people. That's what makes the woman they call Bernie a luminescent package in a portion of our biz-o-sphere where profits are few and far between. Indeed, except for this particular goddess, the toy business is as naked and headless as a Barbie that's been left with a group of little girls for a couple of hours. In that terrifying milieu, this queen reigns, her personal power as big as her compensation, her figure as lean and trim as her profit margins. Come out, Miss B! Will you play with us?

Bob Nob (computing): What, then, is a man, when all the macho cliches have been stripped away? This is it. Sandy hair, windblown even in a meeting room 800 yards from the nearest window that opens. No shoulders to speak of, except for the fact that the fate of the global information community rests upon them. A chest small, narrow, and sunken; a tiny, little potbelly that speaks of too many Big Macs taken on the run from one history-making interface to the next. And yet...when future generations speak of nobility of form and function, it is this undistinguished face that will swim into view--particularly since he will own the rights to every encyclopedia.

Stuff Poppy (music): He's adorable and talented, with personal holdings in the neighborhood of $3 billion. Best of all, he's very dedicated to the whole family thing, publicly frolicking with his little children in a very laudable way, except when he isn't. "He has an inner glow that lights up an entire room," says one of his close business associates, who is in the hospital recuperating from a contractual discussion that took place recently between him, Mr. Poppy, and several of Mr. Poppy's associates.

Edwina Tootoo (publishing): This, then, is beauty. Oh, she may be as unprepossessing in a certain light as a British dental assistant, but when writers are in the room it is she who provides the illumination, with her smarts, her elan, her Hollywood connections. If you're a scribe, essayist, or other self-promoting artiste, you either work for her or you're a hack. Grown men have fought for the right to have an aneurysm in her presence, and for good reason. "She's Circe," says one admirer, "and in addition to being bewitching, she can turn a wafer-thin essay into a $200,000 option from Dreamworks."

Jack Gribetz (conglomerate): He's big, he's tall, his company makes everything. Everything! And what a guy he is! He can sing and dance, and he's in terrific shape because he sits every day for at least an hour in a rowing machine that goes nowhere but doesn't need to. His teeth are very white and slightly pointed, and he drinks a lot but never shows it. "He's the strongest guy I've ever been around," says his best friend, who refuses to be named, at least at this juncture. "That kind of strength is just...beautiful!" So say we all!

Betty Pruitt (personal branding): She does everything. She owns everybody. There's nothing she can't master and then write a book about. She's as bright as Einstein, as energetic as a lab rat on speed, and terrific in the sack. That's right. I said it. Isn't that what this worship of physical beauty is all about? Sure it is. And Betty is pretty much the apotheosis of that. Because in addition to all the money and all the capabilities, and the value of her shares on the market, she's got long, supple legs and an elastic torso that makes men go woo-woo. I wish this magazine could publish a big, succulent picture of her in a plunging evening gown so you could ruminate and salivate over the majesty of this glorious woman who is unlike any who has heretofore trod this earth.

Oh, good grief.

Alan Greenspan (government agency): Hey. Almost an entire decade of unparalleled growth, with modest interest rates and virtually no inflation? Let me know where I need to go to give him a kiss.

I bet he looks cute in his pajamas too.

By day, STANLEY BING is a real executive at a real FORTUNE 500 company he'd rather not name.