Barring one from him,
it would be difficult to imagine a more frightening haircut than the one I had yesterday.
I am not hesitant to spend money on high-end food, but on things like clothes and hair--I dress like a flood victim and go to discount hair salons. Yesterday I was greeted by a "stylist" I had not seen before. To re-use a comparison, it was like an encounter with a giant squid. You have heard they exist but they are rarely encountered in their natural habitat.
Making small talk, I note my rapidly graying hair and casually mention the story about how the prez is going gray only a few weeks into his term. She abruptly says, "I have no comment on that." OKAY. Then she asks what kind of work I do, and I should have made something up. Rodeo clown perhaps. I think gay porn star would have been less irritating to her than the combo of lawyer, writer and teacher. Because after all, and I quote, "the liberals won't let the schools use the kind of history books that teach the kids about God's plan for America."
Great, I thought. I'm hitting here 1/3 of the way into a haircut by a crazy woman armed with sharp objects. I'm dying to go Five Easy Pieces on her ("I'm listening to some cracker asshole who lives in a trailer park..."), but again, I remember that 1) right now, with one side of my hair cut, I look like an escaped mental patient and 2) as per above, crazy woman armed with sharp objects.
I made my feelings known to her, the salon manager and corporate (not to mention any names, but its initials are Great Clips.) Who thinks to rant like that to a total stranger? That is good for business how?
And see below about the proper uses for the stupid.