Ma and Pa always had a weird taste for family photos. Once, when I was young, they made me climb down into the baboon pit at the zoo for a photo. The baboons really liked it, but I sure didn't enjoy washing poo from my hair for a week.
Then there was the time we saw our first freeway. Pa made the entire family stand on the double yellow line while a hitchhiker took our picture. Sadly, that's how we lost little Jimmy, but we made up for it by building this barn in his memory.
Oh...I guess that didn't work out too well, did it.
Candi wanted to be a stripper so badly, but club owners always showed her the door because of her size. When she came across Midget-Bing one night, she knew she'd found the place of her dreams. She's been grinding the pole there ever since.
It's been a while since I ventured into the unsavory world of mulletry, but I found some choice ones today over at Mullet Junky.
Bobby Jim climbed out of the Porta John, where he'd bathed for the first time in a week, and opened the water bottle in which he'd poured last night's warm leftover Budweiser and let the hot backdraft from Jeff Gordon's stock car dry his hair during each pass around the track.
Eric's first day on the job was ruined when he found out the HR lady would be snapping a photo and posting it on the company website, for mullet enthusiasts everywhere to pass around freely among twisted little blogs like this one.
Ahmed was devastated when his brothers at the mosque called him a retard and banished him. The imam even said, "You're supposed to grow a long beard, not a long mullet. Infidel. Be gone, by the grace of Allah, before we cut off your head!"
Joey insisted that he wasn't an ass. But when his wife, Pooh, and his Son, Tigger, made him dress up like one for the family portrait, he proved himself infinitely an ass, for all the world to see, on the Internet, forever.
And even Eeyore would appreciate that sarcasm, Joey.
Except me...because just the mention of the guy, in addition to bringing up memories of lurid tales of His Freakishness' freakishness, really brings to mind my teenage years, and the person to whom I owe more of my snarkish development than pretty much anyone else on the planet:
Inside the mind of Bill Kaulitz: "Hmm. Let me think. Did I use enough hairspray? Is my eye piercing too cool or what? Will I impress them with my t-shirt? Does my orange jacket look like it came from a Michael Jackson yard sale? Does my guyliner make me look gay?"
So many questions...so little reason to care about the answers.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: that would be "queer" in the correct sense of the word: Eccentric, Bizarre, Nutty, Counterfeit, Worthless....but if you want to take it another way, be my guest.
Suki really wanted to tell her stepmother she was into the butch look, but Mother had already forbidden her to cut her hair. This is why on New Year's Day she secretly plans to drug Mother and shave her head and sell the hair for passage on a tramp steamer to Antarctica, where there is a serious tramp shortage due to global warming.
Sherry, terrified her mother would find out about her new fangs, plucked her eyes out and offered them to a passing duck. The duck demurred to a resident cockroach, who gratefully fed her children while pointing out the slippery slope that came with obtaining nose rings.
Jeez, Christine Aguilera's career must really suck if she's doing this to herself. Bleached hair...dark makeup...fleshy cheeks...I think that dude's dirty naked foot is in better shape than her. I'll bet his hair doesn't look like a used mop.
I'm a bad blog daddy. Posting every 5 or 6 or 7 days isn't very indulgent of me. My apologies. My master over at Feed Your ADHD has me tied to a 1932 Royal Signet Serial #E5903 typewriter, banging out all of that domestic terrorist hate speech over there.
Then there's this guy, who's roped me into doing a column called the Weekly WTF?! (for "Washington Total Fails!," you dirty-minded bastard...or bitch!).
The GOOD NEWS is: I have done some research, and found hundreds of photos for your entertainment. So I'll at least try to be more indulgent of you, and post more often.
For starters, there's this:
And I'm not really sure what the hell he's going for. I remember the punker experience being about total nonconformity, so much so that the cuts punkers recorded were bereft of studio enhancement.
I digged that...then. But not now.
I'm not suggesting the guy visit a hair studio...not in this friggin' economy...but I do think it's best for nonconforming rainbow zigzag Mohawk hair guy to find a barber, preferably one with a straight razor, post haste.
"Fashion," or what passes for it, is mysteriously beyond my understanding. I guess I'm just from the 1950s and like my women, ahem, groomed. Even the fake appearance of that much body hair on a woman makes me shudder.
Who dreams this crap up anyway? And better yet, who friggin' pays for it?
I date a girl and she takes off her clothes and shows me THOSE undies, I'll let her date the dog instead.
She's so hot, she'll fry your nubber to a stubber before she even sees it. She's got AC built in, all 220v, 24/7. She makes a punker jealous. No shaving the sides and slathering Crisco on the rest needed for effect.
If I comment further, those dudes with black suits and sunglasses just outside my door are poised to haul me away.
I just can't resist.
The girls on the mat are NOT going to come back to your hotel room. You do NOT classify as groupies. And if you get any closer, security for USA Gymnastics is just going to have to ask you to take a flying leap.
Shannon Doherty's composite character of Courtney Cruela Addams?
Or this soccer guy right here:
He sure is loco. Um...dude...when you shaved your bald-ass head this morning. You forgot to put your pet spider away. He's still sitting right there, on your forehead. I'm concerned he's going to fall off, and...[obligatory PETA reference insert]...you'll squish him while chasing down the ball.
I think I know why Marilyn Manson (aka Brian Hugh Warner) wears so much makeup. And it has nothing to do with the tradition of shock rock dating back to equally bizarre (but likeable, in a strange way) Alice Cooper:
Marilyn's just plain fugly.
I can dig some of your tunes, Marilyn, being an eclectic wacko who owns plenty of Beethoven and even more Overkill...but look at you I cannot.
Brain Fair, singer for the metal band Shadow's Fall, has some really whacked out hair.
I'm quite certain I see fangs in those strands. If he's a gorgon, it's troubling that he'd be turning his listeners to stone (particularly in this economy...and with the sad state of affairs in the music industry). Surely his record company would be troubled by dwindling sales...not because the music sucks but because no one's left to buy it.
If I were the band's manager, I'd definitely convince him to go for something more wholesome. There's always the Nikki Sixx smack addict look. Chicks dig that shit, man.