Rob got a haircut yesterday, and it is officially Cute™. His stylist, whose name is also Rob, persuaded him to buy product, the same product I was persuaded to buy last week when I got my hair cut. Rob has not bought product for his hair since nineteen eighty-five, and it was probably Dippity-Do. And by “Rob” in the last sentence, I mean “my husband” and not “the stylist.” Honestly, I don’t know when Rob the stylist bought product last, but I suspect it was more recent and not Dippity-Do.
The purpose of product in the aughts is to make your hair look dirty and messed up, a condition I achieved in the eighties without even trying. Speaking of the eighties, this directly contradicts the purpose of product in those troubled times, which was supposed to freeze your hair into brittle, elaborate, and usually hideous formations. The purpose of product in the tens will probably be to protect all of our bald scalps from further damage by the pollution and radiation resulting from the Bush Administration’s environmental policies. We’ll all be dead by then anyway, but when our alien overlords land, they’ll remark upon our corpses’ shiny heads, and it all will have been worth it.