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BUT SO WHAT IF I SIMPLY SHOOT?
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Why I got rid of my locks. Based on a true story.
One day, I woke up and prepared myself to start my day. I checked myself in front of the mirror and told my right hand to perform its usual routine and comb my hair. So, my hand obediently programmed itself and reached for the comb. But just before my hand touched the comb, my eyes noticed a stubble growing on my chin. My eyes thought it would be best to shave first, then comb afterwards. But my hand was too indignant on its prior instructions, and it refused to give way. My eyes tried to convince my hand that it’s better to shave before I comb, because I usually leave right after my hair is combed, and I’ll probably forget to shave. However, my hand was impossible to reason with. My hand insisted on executing its combing motion because it was afraid of being accused of compromising its loyalty to its master. My straight-jacket hand muscles cannot and will not reprogram itself after a command was issued.
Nevertheless, the eyes tried to reason with the hand again. The eyes said that being clean-shaven makes one look more handsome, while having nicely combed hair makes one look smarter. So, the hand instantly concluded that obviously, since nicely combed hair would make the master look smarter, it would be more important to comb than to shave. This was because if the master wasn’t smart, at least by looking smart, it would get him somewhere.
But the eyes rebutted with simple logic. By looking smart, the master will attract abuse from old folks. Old folks somehow like to give chores to people who look smart. However, by looking handsome, the master can attract attention from young chicks. So why let old folks burden the master with donkey-jobs based on a presumption due to his “smart” looks, when his “handsome” looks can attract young chicks? But the hand argued that the master wasn’t a vainpot, and it started to sing the oldie “You’re So Vain”, causing great annoyance to the eyes. “Women are trouble anyway,” the hand retorted. Suddenly the mind interrupted and warned the hand not to pursue that issue any farther.
And so, in the heat of the conflict of interest between the hand and the eyes, things got complicated. The hand was still stubbornly bent on doing the combing movement no matter what, with or without the comb. Due to a miscommunication, the hand picked up the razor and started to execute its combing motion on the head.
Thank goodness the Common Sense Department kicked in soon enough. And it came right on time too, yelling out orders just before the razor made a touchdown on the scalp. The hand was ordered to drop its weapon and spread out its fingers immediately, face down. Then, it was ordered to pick up the comb instead and resume its combing process.
Subsequently, the eyes were harshly reprimanded for causing confusion, inciting domestic turmoil and internal unrest. A punishment was issued under the Internal Security Act, and it was swiftly carried out without a fair hearing with my parents. My eyes were sentenced to cease operations for the next 5 hours as punishment, without any negotiations.
Now the eyes had to undergo their punishment, although it was against my will to have them closed. Reluctant as I was, I went back to sleep with nicely combed hair.
And so you see, I was completely honest when I cited “personal reasons” for my unexplained absence. Since that episode, I decided that sporting short hair would be a better way to go. Keep things short and simple.
One day, I woke up and prepared myself to start my day. I checked myself in front of the mirror and told my right hand to perform its usual routine and comb my hair. So, my hand obediently programmed itself and reached for the comb. But just before my hand touched the comb, my eyes noticed a stubble growing on my chin. My eyes thought it would be best to shave first, then comb afterwards. But my hand was too indignant on its prior instructions, and it refused to give way. My eyes tried to convince my hand that it’s better to shave before I comb, because I usually leave right after my hair is combed, and I’ll probably forget to shave. However, my hand was impossible to reason with. My hand insisted on executing its combing motion because it was afraid of being accused of compromising its loyalty to its master. My straight-jacket hand muscles cannot and will not reprogram itself after a command was issued.
Nevertheless, the eyes tried to reason with the hand again. The eyes said that being clean-shaven makes one look more handsome, while having nicely combed hair makes one look smarter. So, the hand instantly concluded that obviously, since nicely combed hair would make the master look smarter, it would be more important to comb than to shave. This was because if the master wasn’t smart, at least by looking smart, it would get him somewhere.
But the eyes rebutted with simple logic. By looking smart, the master will attract abuse from old folks. Old folks somehow like to give chores to people who look smart. However, by looking handsome, the master can attract attention from young chicks. So why let old folks burden the master with donkey-jobs based on a presumption due to his “smart” looks, when his “handsome” looks can attract young chicks? But the hand argued that the master wasn’t a vainpot, and it started to sing the oldie “You’re So Vain”, causing great annoyance to the eyes. “Women are trouble anyway,” the hand retorted. Suddenly the mind interrupted and warned the hand not to pursue that issue any farther.
And so, in the heat of the conflict of interest between the hand and the eyes, things got complicated. The hand was still stubbornly bent on doing the combing movement no matter what, with or without the comb. Due to a miscommunication, the hand picked up the razor and started to execute its combing motion on the head.
Thank goodness the Common Sense Department kicked in soon enough. And it came right on time too, yelling out orders just before the razor made a touchdown on the scalp. The hand was ordered to drop its weapon and spread out its fingers immediately, face down. Then, it was ordered to pick up the comb instead and resume its combing process.
Subsequently, the eyes were harshly reprimanded for causing confusion, inciting domestic turmoil and internal unrest. A punishment was issued under the Internal Security Act, and it was swiftly carried out without a fair hearing with my parents. My eyes were sentenced to cease operations for the next 5 hours as punishment, without any negotiations.
Now the eyes had to undergo their punishment, although it was against my will to have them closed. Reluctant as I was, I went back to sleep with nicely combed hair.
And so you see, I was completely honest when I cited “personal reasons” for my unexplained absence. Since that episode, I decided that sporting short hair would be a better way to go. Keep things short and simple.
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