Here I sit at the window listening to the echoes of Greg Gumbel’s announcer-guy voice and it strikes me what a coward he is. There’s nothing wrong with being bald, man. It’s normal. Testosterone is a molecule and as you well know it is therefore perfectly free to scurry all around, so it sometimes loiters proximal to your scalp. But it also fancies spanking it in public, and cranking Faith No More on the weekends, so your hair, being a decent bunch, really a solid sort, cleverly bails to the side of town with the Village And Country, over by the Bristol Farms. We call this living. And we call it Freedom.
This but, I’ll have you know, is lame.
Shout out to the muffin man. This guy was born minutes after World War II. No kidding, he is sixty seven years old. But how about this completely other dude? He was a sportscaster in Chicago back in the early seventies:
Sports bro’ was losing his hair and no one cared. athletics! dudes! nature!
Bald is just what happens. But this, forty years later…
Badly appointed with a network joie de vivre. And horsehair ringlets on his head. Tragic.