A wise man once described the calculus he made on the subject of baldness. On the one hand, the expense and daily battle of Rogaine, toupees, glue, hair plugs, not to mention the social anxiety of wondering whether people are noticing, whether one has become a figure of fun like Jim Traficant or, for you Hoosiers, Pat Bauer.
On the other hand, “making peace with baldness.” It seemed an easy choice. I agree.
So I guess we should be grateful, if that’s the word, that Christopher Hitchens did what many men are doing these days — working on their appearance the way women do — and wrote about it.
I guess you could call it a public service. Fixing the teeth, negating his classic smoking-Brit smile, was probably a good idea. As for the “sack, back and crack” man-waxing, I’m reminded of my aforementioned wise man. I’ve had body waxing and found the pain worse in anticipation than practice, but I only waxed regular skin. A man’s scrotum is a different kind of skin, and, well…
I had no idea it would be so excruciating. The combined effect was like being tortured for information that you do not possess, with intervals for a (incidentally very costly) sandpaper handjob. The thing is that, in order to rip, you have to grip. A point of leverage is required; a place that can be firmly gripped and pulled while the skin is tautened.
The impression of being a huge baby was enhanced by the blizzards of talcum powder that followed each searing application. I swear that several times [J Sister waxer Janea Padilha] soothingly said that I was being a brave little boy… Meanwhile, everything in the general area was fighting to retract itself into my body…
All this to remove hair from one’s balls? Is this now a baseline grooming requirement? I’ve changed diapers on both genders, and confronted with a denuded landscape down there — not to mention the smell of talcum powder — I’d probably start wondering if I had another David Vitter on my hands. A real woman (or man, if that’s the way you swing) doesn’t shrink from a few hairs, or even a lot of them. Bring back the natural look.
It’s times like these I think, “Thank GOD I’m married.” I just cannot imagine dating in this environment.
Have we lowered the tone enough? Have we started Friday out on the right foot? Have I implanted images in your brain that you would happily inject acid into your skull to remove? No? Then you need to check out the slide show. Not to worry — it’s safe. If you have time for only one picture, try this one.
“Sandpaper handjob” — that’s a great name for a band.
Howie sent me an AP version of the falling-cow story — thanks, Howie — but I have a better one. The couple are locals, and one is a quote machine: “It’s raining cows out here, man.”
Let’s finish out YouTube week with yet another testimony to the strangeness of Japanese TV: Dogs jumping rope.
Have a great weekend, whether you jump rope or not.