By Nic Lindh on Wednesday, 31 March 2004
Picking up the baby at daycare today, saw another father fetching his offspring from storage sporting the baddest completely non-ironic mullet I’ve ever seen. The important part here is the non-ironic. This was a full-on, circa 1985 Alabama prime mullet. The gentleman was otherwise dressed in business casual, with khaki slacks and a golf shirt.
Wow, not a mullet-ish do, not a “hey I’m kind of retro” nod to mullet-ism, just a cherry apple red trashed Trans-Am blaring Molly Hatchett full frontal primo mullet.
Amazing.
Note that this post is not meant to take any sort of elitist stance or point a finger at those with even less of a fashion sense than The Core Dump, but to explore the sheer wonder of seeing a mullet in the wild in this Year of the Lord 2004. What other wonders await in the naked city?
In honor of Captain Mullet, tonight’s music will be no less than:
“Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey [Opens in iTunes]