Used the iPhone to snap a quickie of homeboy here at a yard sale a couple of weeks back. Where to begin? How about at the bottom...dig that snazzy belt. Stylin'!
Then there's the shirt. This dude and his spousal unit* are the first living, breathing members of the Cowboy Church Network I've ever come across. This means that they may, in fact, be dressed in their Sunday best. Even though it was Saturday.
The shades don't bear a mention. Every dork in creation** owns a pair of wraparound shades now. I'm somewhat shocked to realize that I was around as they came into style.
But that hair. Oh, that incredible hair. So short and receding in the front, so cropped and clean over the ears, so neatly blocked on the back. Right up until you hit the thumb-size hank of rattail that hasn't been in vogue for any male older than seven since I was in junior high.
Seriously, man..what were you thinking? “Man, I really wanna grow me a mullet. A big ol' shaggy ape drape. But m'wife don't like 'em, and I ain't got so much up top any more. Looks like I'll have to fix me up a rat tail! Yee-haw!"
The goatee and one-day stubble contribute to the image of a hyperpituitary first grader. Lose the 'tail, my friend. Close your eyes, give the scissors to your wife, throw down a couple of shots if you need to, and resign yourself to your age cohort.
It happens to the best of us.
*Presumably churchy types -- even Cowboy Churchy types -- do not, unlike many bikers, refer to their womenfolk as “bitches.” They do, however, use the word “impacting” on their website in a way that's almost as offensive.
**Myself included.
