When It's Gotta Go, It's Gotta Go
by Mark Boyle
October 23, 2012
Generally speaking, I am not the impulsive type. I might (might?) do a lot of things that nobody else can understand, but there’s usually a lengthy thought process and at least one or two solid reasons – well, they seem solid to me, anyway – that lead to whatever it is I decide to do.
But not always.
By way of background, it’s worth mentioning that I hadn't had a haircut in well over a year. I’d been completely shaving my head for about two years before that, but when the lockout hit a year ago July, I decided not to get a haircut until we went back to work. Part of this was curiosity; like many follicly-challenged men, I’d been wearing my hair short to camouflage the fact that my once princely locks were no longer in evidence, and I wanted to see how things would develop if I developed a shears-off philosophy.
The lockout was eventually settled and we went back to work right around Christmas. By then, my hair had grown back to the point where it was beyond my collar in the back, and I fancied myself as a modern, older version of David Cassidy, the actor/musician who played Keith Partridge in the old Partidge Family television series that was a staple of my youth. The fact that I more closely resembled Ted Cassidy, the actor who played Lurch in the iconic Addams Family series, was irrelevant, because, well, that’s how self-delusion works. I’d trimmed the back once or twice since then, but the rest continued to merrily grow unchecked.
So Sunday night, I was lounging around The Fortress of Solitude, enjoying a cigar and watching Game Six of the San Francisco – St. Louis National League Championship Series when a sudden impulse struck. I didn't analyze it like I normally would; I simply headed for the bathroom, hauled out the clippers, and went to work. You might wonder why I wouldn't wait until Monday and head over to a qualified professional to have this taken care of, and that’s a legitimate question. For one thing, I have redefined ineptitude to the point that when there is something I can actually do myself, I am loathe to farm it out. And really, let’s face facts. Even if I shelled out a fortune and got the best haircut in the history of civilization, I’m not going to be in demand on the modeling circuit any time soon, so why bother?
I am relatively pleased with the end result. Appearances aside, I am now done with brushes, gels, and shampoos, the funds for which are better used to add to my quality selection of cigars anyway. Plus, I sense a commercial opportunity here. Remember when Luis Gonzalez tossed a wad of gum to the ground when heading back to the dugout at the end of an inning a few years back? Well, some dufus supposedly shelled out $10,000 at auction for that gum. And, stunningly, it appears that there is actually a market for MJB memorabilia. The Slick/Mark bobble head that the Pacers gave away a while back was going on e-bay for almost $150 as of Monday afternoon. So if an outfielder’s used gum is worth $10K and a small statue featuring Yours Truly is worth $150 (give or take), I’m wondering how much a collection of my shorn locks might be worth.
Would $1.13 be too optimistic?