Seeking mullet mystery clues

mulletwigguy Do you know this man?

Or maybe you are this man. Whatever the situation may be the only way to find out is to send this into cyberspace and track where it winds up. After a decade or so, maybe this image will appear on, after it is tied to every conspiracy theory the Internet has to offer.

There is no personal reason for my request: I am not a long-lost relative, was not bullied by this man, he doesn’t owe me money and he isn’t my real father.

But questions still remain that are dire nonetheless.

Did he have dreams of making it big in Hollywood as a movie star or model, only to find himself struggling as a waiter and in need of cash to pay the bills? Out of desperation did he take to modeling one-size fits most, flame retardant-yet-washable, mullet wigs?

If so, how did he find that job? Did an agent approach him about it? Is the mullet wig industry struggling just like the rest of the economy? Was there ever a mullet bailout?

“Listen Dave,” his agent might have said after months of doing nothing for him yet charging him gobs of money for public relations assistance. “I have access to some big players in China. They pay top dollar and your face is going to be seen by millions of adoring fans overseas and here in the states. I’m gonna make you a star babe, an overnight sensation.”

Did he show up at a seedy warehouse somewhere based on an address his agent provided him, where he was ushered to a room with some folding chairs, a bottle of brandy and full ashtrays with still smoldering cigarettes, where a middle-aged biker woman did his makeup and a man in sunglasses who was supplementing his own income, which he made primarily through a failing pornography business, snapped some photos?

How much was he paid? How much did he share with his agent? Did he drink any of the brandy?

Maybe this wasn’t the scenario at all? Maybe it was a reputable gig. There’s always the possibility he really needed money because he lost his job and had to do whatever it took to save his family.

Or maybe the guy just got tired of donating plasma and wanted to change up the retirement strategy a bit. Maybe he, in fact, was supplementing his employment as a sign spinner.

Or maybe the Chinese PR Firm just stole someone’s Halloween profile pic from Facebook for their own devices. This guy may have never been paid for his work. He might have gone into it expecting nothing more than a free sandwich, only to learn the truth of his own stardom years later and the shady agent who took all of his money.

The contract he signed to eat that sandwich contained a clause regarding royalties on ever mullet that consumers worldwide buy. All this time he’s been trying to provide the best for his wife and three children, and there have been many times when the extra mullet income he was cheated out of really would have helped him in those endeavors.

His marriage is now at risk because he’s putting all of his time and energy into a legal battle to reclaim his lost modeling royalties. It’s a battle that can’t be won and the mullet has become a nightmare for Dave.

It has consumed him. He has learned the hard way that the mullet must be respected, even feared some might say.

The world needs to know. Share on facebook and twitter if you want the answers.

Tips can be sent to Feel free to comment below with your own theories or tips.

When quirky comes with the job

Today I woke up, did a few dishes, ate breakfast and headed off to work.

There was nothing particularly interesting to write about in the cities I cover and any local government happenings were out of the picture because it was Martin Luther King Day.

But, as a daily newspaper reporter, I strive to fill up space on a daily basis with something. Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose in terms of the story’s quality.

Feast or famine as they say.

I wound up writing two stories that won’t soon be given a Pulitzer. The first was an update on an annual chili cook off that raises funds for a group that helps injured or fallen police officers.

The other was a short police story, a bit longer than a brief, about a guy who called the police because someone left two Barbie Doll heads on his porch.

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Trying to be gung ho, not Joe Schmoe

Who out there loves the type of sweets that come in a little package for 50 cents and contain loads of sugar, trans-fats and assortments of unpronounceable chemicals?

You know which ones I’m talking about — ho ho’s, Twinkies, Star Crunches, Oatmeal Cream Pies — the good stuff that shoots straight to your blood vessels and brain, clogging your arteries with gooey goodness.

I loved all that stuff. There’s something to be said for stopping in at a gas station, buying two oatmeal cream pies for $1, sandwiching them together, eating them in a matter of minutes and washing it all down with a chocolate milk, also purchased at the gas station.

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Digest news responsibly — warning contains opinions

Many of the problems our country faces seem to stem from polarization and a refusal to be responsible consumers of news.

Maybe all news pieces should contain clear warning labels like the one in this headline. Something along the lines of a parental advisory to warn the unwitting public if something is true news, news sprinkled with opinion or straight-up opinion.

Nah, that would be a violation of what the First Amendment is all about, so it should be avoided. Even if the lines between opinion and news are blurred lets just hope common sense prevails.

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Death of the jukebox hero

 Hate is a word to avoid.

It is the opposite of love and that’s all that needs to be said.

Before I get to caught up in thoughts on hatred’s ugly manifestations, let me say that I hate digital jukeboxes in bars. They don’t even deserve to be called jukeboxes, a term originally attached to sex, because there is absolutely nothing sexy about them.

Can you picture The Fonz stepping up to that flat computer on the wall and leaning on it? I didn’t think so. There’s nothing to lean on – and forget watching him hit it to get a song to play – if you hit that screen on the wall it will just go blank.

Not everything needs to transform into a word with the letter ‘i’ in front of it. As I stepped up to a jukebox in a local establishment recently, it was as if I was standing in front of a three-foot by three-foot smart phone.

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