mullet like me - checking your mullet for ticks

In 1959 journalist John Howard Griffin darkened his skin for an undercover experiment with racial tensions that would later be published as 'Black Like Me.' Now, fifty years later, a man with markedly less courage takes on a mission with markedly lower stakes. -------- contact: mulletlikeme@gmail.com twitter: @mulletlikeme

checking your mullet for ticks

i just returned from a wedding in god’s country where i was well-received by a crowd of strangers. here are a few of the words of encouragement i heard:

“aw, christ is that a mullet? no way!”

“did you get the racing stripes just for the wedding?”

“i had one of those in the eighties. although we didn’t call it a mullet. we called it a haircut.”

“will you pose for a picture with us?”

“what is that thing?”

“uh oh… hide the extra keg of mich golden!”

“that’s my daughter over there… please stay away from her.”

i felt right at home among the guests and i learned a lot about what it’s like to live in a small town. one of the many activities i enjoyed was four-wheeling. i had never been before. what a rush!

first off, only a mulleted-american can truly enjoy four-wheeling to the fullest. why? because if you intend to be safe, you need hair short enough to fit under a snug helmet. this means most riders won’t get to feel the wind rushing through the hair on the backs of their heads unless they choose to be unsafe and ride sans helmet.

a mullet, on the other hand, allows you to experience both safety and pleasure. it’s the condom of ATV haircuts.

an aside — when jared allen and i hold our BIFPIB summit meeting in the camaro i have to remember to ask him if the same holds true for football helmets.

——-

my ride takes me through overgrown corn fields, past rusted out school buses and beneath deer stands. it is just me and the land. and also the smell of gasoline and sweat. my wispy party locks dance in the breeze, teasing my neck as i nudge the throttle deeper with my outstretched thumb.

*****

i’m back. if you’re reading this with a hamm’s nearby, i suggest cracking one along with me. HAMM’S: THE LIQ— never mind…

when i return from the ATV ride i take off the helmet and shake out my mullet. a few pine needles scatter onto the driveway. i park the four-wheeler, head into the house and begin looking for a beer.

“did you just get done riding?” my host asks.

“yeah, just got done.”

“well you should probably take a shower.” he motions toward the bathroom.

“naw,” i explain that my mullet looks flaccid if i shower more frequently than once a week.

“no, i mean for ticks. you gotta check for ticks after that ride.”

i had never thought about ticks. immediately worried, i begin running my hands through my hair. business checks out in about 5 seconds. but the back is another story. it’s so thick and warm and inviting… a veritable tick oasis. how can i even be sure i am hitting all the spots in there?

my worst fear begins to take shape — what if an ambitious deer tick has already burrowed its way into the back of my skull and the only way to find it is to shave off the mullet?

i rush to a computer and start looking up facts about lyme disease. apparently it’s pretty rare.

i proceed to the kitchen and grab a beer.

-BIFPIB-