"I don’t understand white guys who shave their heads. Why would you want to walk around looking like a freshly circumcised penis?" – George Carlin, Complaints and Grievances (2001)
It was just like Bob Geldof in Pink Floyd’s The Wall, except for the eyebrow thing. I shaved off the beard, then sat there running my fingers through what remained of my rapidly balding hair and wondered what the hell I was going to look like without it. Then, in a brazen act of recklessness I said $*@% it, it’ll grow back, and started buzzing away. Unfortunately, my rechargeable clippers ran out of juice less than half way through because the girlfriend unplugged them to use the hair dryer (something I won’t be needing for awhile), so I had to sprint down to Supercuts (425 Washington St., Hoboken) and have them finish the job (thanks Peter!). I started with the clippers at zero and we mowed a path right down the middle. From then on there was no looking back.
The initial shock was more than I had anticipated. I actually saw my face twitching in the mirror as the haircut progressed. But it was what I wanted, and when it was done, it was done. I lingered a bit longer than usual at Supercuts, just staring into the mirror trying to come to grips with the trauma I had just willingly inflicted on myself. But eventually I gave a confident shrug and went out to greet the world freshly shorn.
To make it even more interesting, I went straight from Supercuts to work at the bar, thereby putting myself through a vicious gauntlet of stone-busting from my loving regulars who feel it’s their job to bust my stones. Here are some of the highlights:
– "Hey Kojack/Uncle Fester, fetch me a beer."
Kind of lame and unoriginal. Not too much thought went into this one, which makes sense because it’s the one I heard most often. Come on guys, you can do better than that! If you do I’ll give you a lollipop…y’know, ’cause I’m Kojack…hardy-har-har.
– "Hey Sinéad, get me some shots."
Better…considering I work in an Irish bar I’ll give you points for theme, but still a little tired. I know you can do better than that, because nothing compares 2U.
– "You look like a fat Agassi."
Not bad-more specific, and the fat part is a good job on making it more personal. I give you 15 – Love on that ace.
– "Hal, you look like David Wells." Or even better, "Look, Don Zimmer left the Yankees to work at Duffy’s!"
Now we’re cooking with gas!!! These are good ones, and I’m tremendously honored to be associated with the New York Yankees-it just happens that these were the two fattest guys in the dugout…
– "Jesus, Hal-you look like Jim Norton!"
I like this one-a somewhat obscure but wholly accurate and greatly appreciated reference to a comic of which I happen to be a big fan. For those of you unfamiliar with Jim Norton, he’s a regular on Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn and used to be on The Opie and Anthony Show, before, well, they took it a bit too far. For information, check out www.eatabullet.com. WARNING-his type of humor is more abrasive than the stubble on his mongoloid skull and may not be suitable for those under the age of 14 or above the age of 40 (that means you, Mom-don’t bother).
– "You look like a neo-Nazi fascist white supremacist."
You’ve got to consider the source-this came from my paranoid little Jewish friend. I assured him that my hair style was not politically motivated, considering the fact that ‘dem folk don’t to take to kindly to us Papist Catholic types. And while we’re on the subject, I am still Catholic, so you won’t see me dancing in the airport selling flowers for Krishna anytime soon
– "You look like Col. Kurtz."
This one is my favorite, since I’m a huge fan of Apocalypse Now. I think I might just sit in the dark and read poetry until some errand boy in the form of Martin Sheen comes and hacks me up with a machete. Or until my hair grows back-whichever comes first. But you can imagine what the girlfriend said when she saw the chop job that next morning:
"The horror…the horror…the horror…"
Despite all the unsolicited commentary and good-natured ribbing from my @$$hole friends, I’m starting to get used to it. I didn’t lose a bet, I didn’t leave the microwave open, nor did I pull my hair out watching the Yanks lose the World Series (or watching the Packers fold like a slice of Swiss cheese on Monday night against Philly). I just felt like doing it, so I did it. It’s just hair, it’ll grow back-well, some of it at least.
The fact is I am going bald, but I refuse to get addicted to Rogaine or call Cy Sperling or any of that sickeningly vain rubbish. Fact is, once you use Rogaine you have to use it for life or the rest of your hair falls out. That means that the good, honest folks in the pharmaceutical industry can jack the price on that stuff once they get everyone hooked. I’d be willing to bet that in 10 years you’ll see middle-aged men with comb-overs knocking over liquor stores just so they can get their fix of "the ‘Gaine." JUST SAY NO my narcissistic yuppie friends, before you end up like Pookie in New Jack City and dat’ $#!+ be callin’ you, man. And hair replacement-fugetaboutit. I’m not having surgery done to my ego-particularly if they’re going to transplant hair from my ass and put it on my skull. No matter how much I shampoo, it’ll never be clean enough.
So I became master of my own fate and eliminated the concern. I adopted a scorched earth policy and won the war on baldness, in some inane, ass-backwards way.
My only regret is that I waited until November to do this. In the hours after I shaved my head the temperature dropped a cool 30 degrees.
I hope there weren’t too many brain cells attached to that hair, because I can’t afford too many more stupid moves like that.
If you know how I can effectively waste $50 in the Metro-area, please email If you know how I can effectively waste $50 in the Metro-area, please write to:
"Hal Wastes His Wages"
c/o The Current
1400 Washington St.
Hoboken, NJ 07030
or email c_halleron@yahoo.com