Intolerance amongst groups who claim their ultimate aim is to bring people together never ceases to amaze me. Here’s a link to the supposedly profane picture that’s been in the news lately featuring a nude black woman in the position of Jesus in a representation of DaVinci’s “Last Supper”. I’m honestly not sure what the opposition to this particular piece of artwork is; be it the fact that Jesus is represented by a woman, someone of color, someone naked, or a combination thereof. Either way, I applaud Renee Cox’s bravery and artistic vision.

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Speaking of hair, in a conversation with my parents it was somehow mentioned that I wash my hair every day. They (“they” because, you know, they speak as one) asked, “Every day? We only wash ours every few days or so.”

Say what?!

It’s weird what you take for granted when you don’t have anyone else around to observe you. Even if you’re married (or some derivative thereof), you probably don’t have someone near you/with you when you’re taking a shower often enough to notice (or even care about) your SFR (Shampoo Frequency Ratio). You therefore blithely and blissfully go through Life thinking that whatever you’re up to is the same as what everybody else is, err, up to.

With these thoughts in mind, I took an impromptu poll of people I happened upon (about a dozen) and found that only about 40% of us wash our hair every day. Which means, of course, that 60% of you are dirty godless heathens.

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Back in the day, my then girlfriend was kind enough to cut my hair (thereby saving me what was at that time a whoppiing $9). She liked my hair very short (on the order of Marine) which was actually fortuitous, because I have what can honestly be called a coif; where, instead of my hair growing down as it gets longer, it simply grows out (Not unlike a ‘fro, but many magnitudes less cool).

At any rate, what started as a hair clipper around the sides and scissors on top, eventually evolved into a hair clipper all the way around with varying height guards. When it got to that point I thought to myself, “That doesn’t seem so hard,” and on one faithful summer day about 4 years ago, I threw caution to the wind in the form of overwhelming self-confidence and promptly completely messed my hair up. It was not fashion-model messing my hair up, where my sideburns were uneven by a matter of millimeters, it was “Oh look dear, that young man has walked blindfolded into a wheat-thresher” messed up. It was not one of my finer hours.

You’d think, despite the “old-dogs new-tricks” maxim, that I would have learned from my past folly. However, I again decided to cut my own hair tonight, as I needed cutting, and I just don’t think Supercuts does it quite right. As it turns out, neither do I. If you, or someone you love, is also thinking about cutting their ‘do, let me offer you a few observations:

1. Even though the little height guard says “blend” on it, it does in fact cut your hair as short as it looks like it would, and doesn’t just automatically blend in all of your previous uneven attempts.
2. When you mess up, and cut a patch of hair way too short, before thinking to yourself, “I can fix this,” make a quick mental inventory on just exactly what tools you have at your disposal and think about that again.
3. Before trying any of this, find a favorite sports team, rock group, or cult, and buy one of their sweet logo hats.
4. Always, and I can’t stress this enough, be prepared to completely shave your head (or at least come damn near like I did). I suggest developing a hip, confident swagger now, because you’re going to need it to overcome your busted-ass haircut.

Don’t get me wrong, having super short hair does have it’s advantages. For instance, should I be pursued by a non-gun-toting, non-ax-weilding, strictly hand-combating assailant, he or she will not be able to grab me by my hair, but will instead have to grab me by my less convenient shirt, pants, arms, legs, backpack, or neck. Also, I definitely do not have lice.

Next week: Other things you shouldn’t try to shave.

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Overheard from the two guys playing in the court next to me while I was out shooting baskets:

Guy 1: (shooting) Man, I saw Xena for the first time last night…
Guy 2: (rebounds, puts up a layup) Oh yeah?
Guy 1: (dribbles out to top of the key) She kicks ass!
Guy 2: (guarding) Yeah she does…
Guy 1: (drives the lane) AI-YI–YI-YI-YI-YI-YI!!!

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Yo JOE!!!
He’ll fight for freedom wherever there’s trouble, GI JOE is there…
GI JOE, a real American hero, GI JOE is there.
It’s GI JOE against Cobra and Destro, fighting to save the day.
He never gives up, he’s always there, fighting for freedom over land and air
GI JOE, a real American hero, GI JOE is there.

voiceover
GI JOE is the codename for America’s daring, highly trained, special mission force.
It’s purpose, to defend human freedom against Cobra, a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world.

He never gives up, he’ll stay ’till the fights won, GI JOE will dare
GI JOE, a real American hero, GI JOE!!!

Roadblock- “Remember, don’t play around electric wires or you could be playing with fire. “

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Finally! A place to get a Pope action figure. If you’re like me, you’ve wanted to stage a holy battle in your living room between Jesus and Shiva for the longest time, and now’s your chance.

Personally, I intend to wage war with Krishna “Cosmic Warrior and lover of many women”, resplendent in bronzed armor, kick-ass Colt 45, and a laser sighted automatic Ganesh-garnish S&W; with silencer. Although, The Ayatolla “Destroyer of empires, crusher of infidels” is pretty tempting, too. This link brought to you by the good people at Dangerous Monkey.

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Do you ever get to work, look down, and when you look up again it’s time to go home? Yeah, me neither, today totally sucked…

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Paying my bills last night, something occurred to me:

Although most of my monthly tithe offerings are now electronic transactions, I still have a few old skool credit cards, car insurance, and utilities bills that I have to write checks for and send in via snail-mail. Licking the envelope to my cell phone bill it struck me as odd that we’ll lick anything that comes in the mail, but if a grape hits the floor it goes straight in the trash! If you’re like me (and you’re probably not), you just instantly thought of a great way to kill your enemies. So, be forewarned Moriarty, if you get an envelope that says, “You may already be a winner” and you see a smiling representation of me on it, you’d better think twice before sending in for that Soldier of Fortune subscription.

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It’s Valentine’s Day, I’m single, and that’s about it. I’ll be keeping my head down for the rest of the day, so if you’re looking for me, I’m not under my desk.

In other news, this accursed “holiday” got me to think about my eating habits (trust me, there’s a logic loop in there somewhere). Back in the days that I was excited about VD (and isn’t that double entendre interesting?), I would cook a lot; mostly because I actually enjoy it and am pretty competent at it. Nowadays, though, I’ve realized that most of my food seems to come out of either a can or a bag, and almost all of it has at least some contact with my microwave. I’m not completely in-adept, and I’m proud to say I don’t own even one box of Mac ‘n Cheese or Top Ramen, but still, an inordinate amount of my diet seems to consist of cheese and tortilla chips. It makes me wonder what I would do without a microwave; and, coming from a family that replaced that particular new-fangled device with a double-oven in a house they were moving into, not having one is a distinct possibility. When and if that ever happens, I predict I will get totally into Spam. Wish me luck…

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My fame and influence are spreading already! In reference to my earlier post about an office BS generator, a nice Londonite (cheers Miriam) sent me this link for a collection of workplace vocabulary. I was so inspired I submitted “Prairie-Dogging” (the act of employees popping their heads out of their cubes when there is a disturbance in the cube-farm).

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