Mullet Hasselhoff and Douche Instructions

7 Mar

I blog but I don’t regularly read any blogs. I syndicate content but I don’t subscribe to any RSS feeds. I “tweet” by default only because I found an app to automatically update twitter from another content source. I IM only when it suits me and always remain invisible. And though that might make me sound like a Luddite of sorts, I’m not. But I am a creature of convenience. What I’m saying, is that if the title of this blog entry (Mullet Hasselhoff and Douche Instructions) didn’t already scare you away, I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t get any better. You should leave – and I wouldn’t blame you. Rather, I’d commend you. This is the painfully boring reality television of the blogosphere. (Like saying this is the especially poopy poop of the poop?) But alas, I digress…

Mullet

I usually get one real haircut every year. Call it a shearing if you like. Shave the whole damn mess off. But first, I like to have a little fun. I’ve done the strawberry blond mohawk. Long ago, I briefly sported a reverse mohawk and tried to get people to call me “Stripe”. Didn’t happen. Double failure. Instead of learning from these mistakes, I braved the mullet for a day prior to my last shearing. My mullet Hasselhoff as I like to call it is preserved for posterity complete with an idiotic narrative. I am not embarrassed; I’m just a slave to guerrilla theater. (e.g. see my bud dry skits and now-nearly-famous douche instructions.)

If you’re a guy and you’ve gone through life or at least a large portion of it with a single hair style, you should consider an abrupt change. People treat you differently depending on your hair. When your hair is long, longhairs will say, “Hey dude!” while the short hairs will look the other way. Shave that mane off and you’ll find the hairful ignoring you while the shorties will welcome you as one of their own. Please note: This little hair exercise’s worth relates only to what you’d gain from a sociological/fashion experiment. Well… mostly.

Further causing me to lose faith in humanity (as if writing about ones hair is not bad enough,) when I posted a status update about my plans to shear on a popular social networking site, dozens of my connected compatriots elected to comment. True, I did ask for suggestions. Alas, most I’d already tried, and the rest didn’t move me. I’m thinking I should go for male pattern baldness for a day. My maternal grandfather lost almost all of his hair when he was a very young man. My mother then tortured me warned me throughout my youth and early adulthood that I should cherish my hair while I had it… because it would soon be gone!

I find myself closer to 50 than 18 years of age and I still have my hair. Thanks ma. Nonetheless, I could lose my hair… It is thinning a little. Though tempted to type “I digress” again, it would be misleading. I doubt I could digress from infinite digression. So spring is almost here. The impostor ladybugs (nee Asian ladybeetles) are literally escaping from the woodwork. Time to till the garden. Think about opening the pool. Pick up all the pine cones (read pay somebody more able bodied to pick them up.) And most pressingly, it’s time to decide what to do with this mop of hair.

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Ethan McCarty

Digital strategy | Social business | People-centric biznology

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