October 14 - The Combover

Goatview Farm - The Saint Report

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October 14
The Comb-Over

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A few years ago I was toying with the idea of changing my name to Weyerhaeuser. Not Weyerhaeuser Jones--Marilyn Weyerhaeuser. Does the name mean anything outside of the Pacific Northwest? Weyerhaeuser is the Washington equivalent of Rockefeller but instead of the money smelling like oil, it smells like trees. I figured that a letter to the editor signed Marilyn Weyerhaeuser was very likely going to get printed and a letter to a congressperson signed Marilyn Weyerhaeuser was bound to get some action.

Saints celebrating feast days today include Saint Callistus, Saint Justus of Lyons, Saint Manechildis, Saint Angadrisma (or Angadreme), Saint Burchard, Saint Dominic Lauricatus, Saint Fortunata, and Saint Fortunatus of Todi.

Roger Moore, who played "The Saint" on television and therefore has a special place here in The Saint Report (1928, London), Harry Anderson (1952, Newport, Rhode Island), and C. Everett Koop (1916, Brooklyn) all share a birthday today.

I asked a co-worker what he thought of the idea. "Don't you think that would make you appear insecure?" he snidely replied.

I was struck dumb. Insecure? Me? Not that the idea of myself having insecurities was so astonishing--it was having the observation come from a man who not only combed his hair forward from his neck, but who either believed that combing his hair forward from his neck looked better than being bald or that it fooled everyone into thinking he wasn't losing his hair.

I haven't seen a picture of William Proxmire lately, but the last time I saw him he had his hair parted about half an inch over his left ear, with one of the most elaborate comb-overs I have ever had the misfortune of seeing. Now, I worship Senator Proxmire, but I can't look at him while he is speaking and still hear what he says. His hair is screaming that loudly.

When I was in Alaska (it was only a year, but it has given me vignettes for a lifetime), if I sat in the back at church I couldn't hear the pastor because of all those Norwegian combovers in front of me. I kept picturing those guys in the shower with one side of their heads sporting real short hair and the other side waist-length gray, thin strands. Zowie, what a horrible image.

I can't understand men believing a comb-over beats bald. I suppose there are women who find balding men less sexually attractive than men with hair, but even they would probably balk at saying Harpo Marx was more of a turn-on than Yul Brynner. And those women (assuming a man would want a woman with the depth of filo dough) aren't going to be fooled by a comb-over, so what's the point?

My sister said a friend of hers showed up the other day with his head shaved. She asked him why he had done it and he answered that his wife had accused him of combing over. "I do not," he had replied forcefully.

"Oh, yes you do," his mate had insisted, pointing an accusatory finger at the offending area.

"So," my sister's friend told her, "I decided that I had better just shave it all off and start from scratch."

A very wise decision, if you ask me.

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The photo on the left is a not-very-flattering one of Sean Connery. Sean Connery is, without a doubt, the sexiest man who has ever resided on the planet. You can dress him in a skirt and make him 71 years old, and even then, even in a bad photo, he can make any woman with a hormone left get sweaty palms.

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