I would spy authentic mullets and feel like an imposter in their mulleted world as I mentally critiqued the length, girth, and curl of their respective hairstyles. I would interview school board candidates, talk to members of the City Council, attend press conferences, go out to lunch with environmentalists, and get my iced coffee fix at Java Jones. At times I would forget my haircut, going about my job as a news reporter with nary a second thought to my coif. Living in Mulletville proved colorful and entertaining. I let out a little laugh, which in hindsight probably made things worse, and answered, “Oh no, actually it’s for my dog.” ![]() Before I could answer, however, she continued, “Now sir, you know we have a limit on the number of boxes you can buy, and of course we will have to see your ID as well.” At first I was confused by her statement but then, remembering the nefarious role Sudafed plays in the production of crystal meth and catching a glimpse of myself in the security mirror - unshaven, mullet flowing, Coors Light T-shirt, and no doubt an alcohol aroma - I realized what she was getting at with her comments. Just as I was narrowing down my choices, an older female employee approached me and in a hesitant but firm voice offered her help. Looking for allergy pills that would be suitable for my dog, I had several boxes of medicine spilled out in front of me as I examined their ingredients. After catching a few funny looks and a heartfelt “Right on man!” from a Ford truck-driving guy at the gas station, I found myself in the medicine aisle of Rite Aid. Newly shorn, I quickly forgot my hangover and ventured out to tackle a long list of weekend errands and show off my new do. With mullets adorning the heads of men and women at truck stops the world over, it is truly the cut of the common person (urban legend suggests the name mullet comes from the Nordic fishers who developed the style to keep their necks warm and their vision clear while hunting fish). But the appeal of the mullet is far from reserved for the historically significant. From Greek gods and Roman gladiators to Braveheart and America’s own founding fathers, the mullet has been front and center for centuries. ![]() Its characteristic business-in-the-front and party-in-the-back styling has borne witness to countless revolutions, historic document signings, bar brawls, and incestuous relationships. Throughout history, the mullet haircut has gone by many names - Tennessee top hat, Kentucky waterfall, and the ape cape immediately come to mind. After all, I was no longer going through this life alone I now had a mullet with me. Smiling at my reflection like I was meeting a long lost friend, I couldn’t help but stand up a little straighter. I could feel the lineage of Beethoven, Napoleon, David Bowie, and Chuck Norris pulsing through my veins. ![]() Nine snips of the scissors later, and the deal was done.Īfter more than three years of hair farming, I had left the world of long-haired freaky people and joined the elite company of some of the world’s greatest minds. As the song “Lucille” crackled across the speakers, I found myself in a trance, staring in the mirror, scissors in hand, ready, willing, and able to join the storied ranks of those with mullets. Like a tuning fork to my soul, Kenny’s silver-flecked mullet spoke to me, offering me hairdo salvation and inspiration all at once. Stumbling around my living room, I noticed the album cover leaning against a crate of records. Everybody’s favorite gambler was crooning out of my record player, his smoky voice a perfect complement to yet another brilliantly sun-soaked, hungover Santa Barbara morning. A few weeks back, haggard with a particularly brutal wave of Oktoberfest aftershocks, I awoke to the sound of Kenny Rogers.
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