To HeadBlade or Not to HeadBlade or What Would John Wayne Do?

That is the question. Growing up with the Duke as a role model, that's always been the question. Whenever in doubt, I finger my elastic dayglo bracelet with the inscription: What Would John Wayne Do? The answer has never let me down. From bar room fights to dealing with the Indians (that Nokosee can be quite a handful now that he's teamed up with that crazy park ranger's daughter), I've either come up on top or walked away bruised and injured but with head held high knowing I approached the situation bravely. Now, as I enter my twilight years my family's genetic code has finally caught up with me: I'm losing my hair.

One of my greatest fears growing up was that I'd end up looking like one of those less than heroic poor slobs who are always running the dry goods store instead of the guys with the low slung holsters (and a full head of hair) who aren't afraid of whipping out their guns and pulling the trigger. You know the kind of loser I'm talking about, the ones who are bald on the top with vestigial hair growth around the ears and back of the head.

Living in trendy SoBe where looking good and young is embraced with a passion, young guys going bald have opted not to go the route of my hero. Instead of wearing a toupee, or undergoing hair transplants, or slapping chemical concoctions on top of their fading domes, they're choosing another route: they're shaving everything off the top. In fact, it's getting to the point that nearly every man you see around here (and an occasional woman) looks like Yul Brenner's love child. A lot of these dudes are pumped up to the max and I gotta suspect maybe their hair loss has something to do with steroids. But, in any event, it's nearly impossible not to trip over one of them while walking around town because they're so goddamn plentiful.

And then one day while shopping for razor blades at Publix, something caught my eye. There, hanging on a hook in its blister packaging was the... HeadBlade. Being a sucker for gizmos, I had to check it out. The HeadBlade is the crotch rocket of razors because it, well, looks like one. It has two wheels, a flashy paint job, and a cool "headlight." I had to pause and look around.

"I can't have anyone seeing me looking at this. They'd know I'm thinking about...shaving my head! How vainglorious. What would John Wayne Do?" I asked myself.

"He'd buy a toupee," I responded.

"Hell, I tried that and no matter how much you pay for one and no matter how many times you lie to yourself that it looks natural, it doesn't. They always look fake."

But the "coolness" of the product kept calling me back.

"How clever," I thought. "Hell, it might actually work."

So, with another furtive look around, I tossed it into my shopping cart. When it came time to check out, I pretended I didn't see it when the cashier picked it up and looked at me. I felt like a kid trying to buy condoms for the first time.

When I got home I gave it a try and was surprised that it actually worked (most of the clever gadgets I've bought over the years have always let me down). I soon found myself making engine sounds as the little HeadBlade roared across my somewhat bumpy noggin.

And then I discovered what I always suspected: I'm really from another planet.

I put on the brakes and came to a screeching halt. There, once hidden by hair and just above the nape of my neck was the distinct skin pattern of space aliens from the planet Tencton. Yes, I'm really a Tenctonite. You remember them don't you, they made a TV series about them. Called it "Alien Nation."

"I can't let anyone see me like that!"

What to do? I can't go out half-shaved. So I decided to even it up a bit. By the time I was done I looked like Travis Bickle's old man. Trouble is I could hear the Duke doing DeNiro.

"You talking to me, pilgrim?"