Friday, July 29

Cleaning out the draft file: Skullbaked

Hello, I am the Big Rabbit, and I'm bald. This is only marginally a matter of choice. A few years back, I made the conscious decision to keep my head shaved. This was due to the fact that I have had my full head of 60s hippie-length brown locks, later a more reserved Princetonian look, and like my father before me, battered by the twin ravages of years and hormones, Kukla-Hair. If you're under the age of fifty, ask an adult who Kukla, Fran and Ollie were.

Here's a picture of Kukla and Ollie.

The thing on the left with the mink toilet seat haircut is Kukla. Sure, go ahead and laugh at the Golden Age of Television. We ducked and covered and made the world safe for the Kardashians, but you don't fucking care, do you?

Anyway, there but for the grace of someone's hand up my ass, go I.

My Lapin and Conejo families, save my paternal granddad, has or had Kukla hair. When I realized, with the help of my barber - um, stylist, that I was getting thin on top, I bypassed the comb over and went straight for the high-reflectance, low-maintenance, trailer hitch look.

Thus spake the rabbit.

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