Thursday, March 16, 2006

An Ode

Recently I've had several incredible sightings in the company cafeteria, all of them involving a short, stocky, middle-aged guy. If you see him with a hat on, you wouldn't have cause to pay much attention to him because he looks just like any other graying, tanned Italian man, with a gold cross peaking out of a dense canopy of chest hair sprouting out of an unbuttoned polo shirt.

Except this man is the proud owner of one glorious mullet.

At times when the Mulleteer, as I affectionately refer to him, is strutting confidently across the cafeteria, his mullet appears to float above his head, unencumbered by laws of physics and unattached to his scalp. On the days when it's been nourished by "Just For Men" (or maybe some other equally decadent hair product from L'OReal which it rich deserves), the mullet shines with an ungodly radiance, like an oil slick in a Texas oilman's wet dream. If there was a Hall of Fame for Mullets, this one would be inducted as soon as it's eligible and with unanimous approval from a panel of mullet experts, even if there were unsettling whispers of steroid usage and wife beating.

The mullet transcends the man.

If "party in the front and party in the back" can adequately describe the silly, poofy 80's hair that sits atop an instructor who has taught a few classes I've been in, then The Magnifico can best be summed up as "orgy on all fronts." That's how spectacular it is.

It would make Chuck Norris cry.

Sigh, if only there's a way I can snap a picture of this elusive, mystical creature without being noticed by its guardian so I can post it here for all the world to see!