Business in the front, party in the back.

There is just something about a good mullet.

Something amazing.

I mean, there is absolutely nothing you can do but admire a choice so bold.  I know, there is a segment of the population that is somewhat horrified by them but I, quite simply, am fascinated.  Not ironically.  Because, to borrow a quote from "Mullet Junky," "To a true mullet connoisseur, the mullet is not viewed as just a haircut. It's a phenomenon...a culture...a rare breed that can transform interest and curiosity into obsession."   

Truer words were never spoken.  At least when it comes to the proud heritage of the mullet.

It takes a very special person, a rebel, if you will, to rock a "Camaro crash helmet."  


After all, this is a haircut that went out of style at least 20 years ago, yet men & (sadly) women across this great land are still clinging to their "Kentucky waterfalls" with the same sort of fierce pride guys devote to their underpants from high school. 

Personally, and I feel comfortable going out on a limb here, I believe I have seen one of the most magnificent (yet slightly disturbing) mullets that has ever graced this fair earth. Surely it must have been at the height of mullet mania, when I was a mere child? Oh no, no it most certainly was not. This mullet was spotted in approximately 2000, when I was living with my (super cool) friends in an apartment (magical times) in Laramie. (I feel it is important to give the location, as some of you may be Laramites and could potentially spot it for yourselves.) 


As I blearily walked out to get my mail after waking up one afternoon, I saw a red flash in the corner of my eye. I turned my head, not sure what might meet my eyes... It was spectacular. Breathtaking, really. Surely it couldn't be real? My bleary eyes must be deceiving me. I rubbed them and looked again. Oh no, this was no trick of the light, but a genuine, 100%, lady mullet. A femullet, the rarest of all.  Not only that, but it was bright red, a dash of blonde, and a whole lotta wonderful. It had all the makings of a kick ass "achy breaky mistakey." Short on the top, spiked lovingly with gel, slightly longer sides smoothed seamlessly into a waist length extravaganza of curly awesomeness the likes of which I can never hope to see again. Friends, I can only wish for you a sight such as this. It was one of those moments in life you think to yourself, "Right here, right now, all is right with the world. I'm exactly where I was meant to be."
 
In writing about this, I felt it important for me to gain some insight into what goes on under a mullet. The inner workings, if you will, of the courageous few, the mullet-havers.  For this, I had only one place to turn: my very own brother.  Yes, shockingly, Dan was in possession of his very own mullet for over a year.  To be fair, he was a little kid, but still, his skull was covered in mullet for a time.  I asked the obvious question, "Why?!? Just why?!?" and he replied with the only answer he could have, "MacGyver."

"MacGyver." These days, it's just a whisper on the wind.  The ghost of mullets past.  I can't help but think that MacGyver's hair was sort of like Samson's.  It was the source of his power.  He could make a bomb out of gum and a paper clip, but only because of the proud sandy mop atop his noble head. It showed his every emotion. Intelligent but fun, serious but sensitive... No other style could have such range. He would have been nothing without that "nape drape."

Mullets were slow to die, but die they did.  At the urgings of many a wife, I'm sure.  I like to think that whenever a mullet man's wife finally nags him into divesting himself of his sweet, sweet "Canadian passport," MacGyver's is looking down from heaven, a tear slowly running down its sideburn.  

So, my friends, next time you see a "Tennessee top hat," don't scoff. A good mullet is hard to find these days.  It must be treated as the rarest of flowers.  They are to be treasured and admired, for who knows when next you may see one? 

I hope you all have a wonderful, exciting week! May your neck be ever warm, and your forehead ever cool.