A note to cone heads; buy a hat

by Ken Carpenter

Bald heads have been attracting attention ever since the first time sunshine reflected off of a hairless dome. Rest assured, some smart aleck caveman noticed it and shouted out “Hey Chromey, put a sock on it! Ha ha ha!”

            Not everybody is so rude anymore, but there is one thing that hasn’t changed. Make that two things. Cures for baldness still make big money and they don’t work any better now than when Hippocrates first advised bald men to put a paste of pigeon poop on their shiny noggins in 400 B.C.

            Before going any further I should point out that if there were a sure fired cure for baldness, I would be in line for it right now. I point this out because I do not want a mob of hairless men chasing me down the street for making fun of them.

            Why, just yesterday I gave my wife a good shock by requesting that she measure my bald spot. Her look of surprise changed quickly to a prolonged cackle that inspired the goats and chickens to reply enthusiastically and at least two of the dogs to howl at the neighbors.

            Meanwhile, I patiently waited with tape measure in hand and obligingly pointed my cranium toward the light when she regained her composure. She soon announced, in a voice that verged on the smirkish, that my bald spot is two inches by two and a half inches.

            She also asked if I wanted my forehead measured, and I testily replied that I could measure it myself, thank you very much.

            Not that anybody cares, but I appear to have lost about an inch of hairline through the years. When the light is right, the reflection from my forehead could illuminate a Broadway stage.

            Ancient Egyptians were very concerned with baldness, and bald heads were considered shameful all over the ancient Middle East. Skulls were anointed with ointments and salves of all kinds and fortunes were spent in the futile attempts to stave off hair loss.

            4000 years later, things have changed very little. Charlatans through the ages have always been adept at taking advantage of human frailty.

            Of course, there are those to whom bald is beautiful. I suppose Yul Brynner had something to do with it, albeit in a belated manner.  He was very popular in the 1960’s, when the “long hair” culture began.

Ironically, those of us who sported shoulder length locks back then are now the ones who are most likely to be shelling out money for Rogaine or ultraviolet scalp treatments.

It just doesn’t seem right that some guys with a full head of hair are now shaving it bald. I agree, it would simplify the grooming process. There are other things to consider though.

You would have to have a fairly big head, for earning the nickname pinhead would seem to nullify some of the expected benefits of a shaved cranium. Make note, cone heads should avoid the bald look.

It wouldn’t do for the stylishly bald to neglect their head shaving duties either, otherwise they would look like a baby bird. Strange, and I do mean strange, women may be compelled to rub it.

There is a product called Headlube that provides a dome with the choice of Glossy or Matte finish. I suppose it is geared more for bald men than balding men, but I would personally not consider it to be anybody’s business if I wanted a Matte finish forehead or bald spot.

Even in the 1800’s cowboys spent their hard earned money on worthless “Snake Oil” to encourage hair growth. When that failed they took to rubbing grease into their hair, causing it to look thicker. That they even care strikes me funny, for they are seldom seen without their cowboy hats anyway.

Wigs have been relied on to hide baldness since Egyptians first invented them, and they are still popular. Some men actually have snaps inserted into their skulls to keep their toupees from becoming Frisbees.

I find it interesting that eunuchs who were castrated before puberty do not go bald. It seems like a high price to pay for a head of hair, but to each his own.

I think I’ll just stick with a baseball cap.