Hairistocracy…….

We have survived another wild and wooly political season. Once again America has elected a President with great hair (well, a lot of hair anyhow), relegating bald men to lesser offices across our great land. As a bald man who refuses to comb over the skunk stripe that envelopes my shiny crown, I long for another bald President. Ike was our last elected bald President (Ford doesn’t count) marking the beginning of the great hair period in Presidential politics. Eighty years is a long dry spell for hair challenged folks like myself.

While watching political contenders hurl verbal insults at each other, I found myself pulling for the bald down ballot contenders. They did okay, but aren’t likely to achieve the rarified atmosphere reserved for men of hair. Facial hair is also a taboo in Presidential politics, dating back to 1836 and Martin Van Buren, who was bald but sported magnificent sideburns. The WWII era gave us leaders like Ike, Churchill, Gandhi, and David Ben-Gurion, a golden age for shiny pates. It should be evident to my readers that good hair is political cover. The idols of the good hair politicos would have to be Kennedy, Reagan and Clinton. The truth is that good hair got two of them in trouble with admiring constituents. As further evidence of a fetish for hair, remember McCain, a loser whose hairline was receding and Biden, a winner, whose hair was reseeded.

Us hair challenged folks can’t all project the aura of Micheal Jordan, Sean Connery or Buddha, so we often spend hours cultivating facial hair, quite fashionable these days but a challenge to folks whose hair is running away from their beard.

I doubt I will live to see another bald President or a return to some form of facial hair on a serious contender. Such is my curse. Sharon tells me she likes my soon to be short sculptured beard even though I have nothing to tie it up to on the dome. That is why barbers have been busy cultivating a perfect fade, permitting your beard to slip into a barren but sublime infinity on one’s head. I never aspired to the challenges of the political world which is a good thing, as the curse of baldness would have been a serious handicap.

As a final insult, it appears the bald breeds of dogs never win top honors at Westminster, yet further evidence of the curse of hairlessness. You live and learn. It is time to procure another bottle of SPF 30 to keep my scalp cancer free. At least my dermatologist admires my pate and the care I’ve given it. To all the great hair guys out there, charge on with the morning ritual of managing your locks. I can bounce out of bed, slather a little sun screen on and hit the deck running. That is the benefit of being in the baldtocracy!

Have a great week!

SR