Get A Haircut, Hippy

Joni, stay clear of that lecherous deadbeat

Life is full of challenges and we rise or fall on them as we move down the fast flowing stream of life. Here's a snapshot. 

You look deep into the black depths of the scrying glass and see a monstrous reflection staring back at you, some kind of long haired freak. 

Hippies

Who is that? you ask the polished obsidian and realise, in shock, that it's you. And the challenge is on, getting a haircut in this rural Texan haven. No, you're not scared, so you hit the road in your rig.

First stop, Quality Cutz but Quality Cutz is shut, unsurprisingly, because Cutz couldn't cut hair. It wasn't his strength, I hope he moved on to better pastures. I liked Cutz.

Cutz is Gone. He Couldn't Cut

Next stop, Creative Designs, all holed up in a half abandoned strip mall. No. Every chair was full of elderly women with tinfoil in their hair. Do you give up? On the contrary, you face the challenge and meet it head on.

This meant ending up at something called Salon 110 and that's trying because all I'm really asking for is an old fashioned barber. But they're gone in this farming community so you adapt and survive.

Polling

A pleasant young woman with pink hair got to work; cutting hair was her "passion" she told me and more power to her. About half way through she asked, "Did you go to Woodstock?" I resisted the temptation to say damn your impudence, "No, I missed that one."

Reckoning

Did I miss the teaching challenge and forget to tell her that "hippy" is synonymous with dirty, thieving, lying beggar? And that Joni Mitchell is a Devil Witch?

You be the judge,

LSP

Get Your Hair Cut, Hippy

It was a pretty regular morning in the hurley-burley, rough and tumble life of the Compound. Up around first light, sitting on the steps of the back deck, drinking hot tea and watching the grass grow. One perfect sunrise, except that it was cool and overcast, maybe about to rain, like England in May.

Peacock

A ragged peacock hen flew into the yard. It strutted and pecked, I sipped tea and pondered the next evolution. It wasn't complex.

ME 262 Going Down. Pilot, Get Out!

Say your prayers, walk the dog to the pick 'n steal (filling station), visit the sick, then get a haircut. Good plan. Clear, simple, achievable, and it was all going so well. Until the plan crashed and burned like an ME 262 on fire and spinning out of control.

Epic Fail

Wildcat Cuts was shut. I don't know why, neither, apparently, did they. "Shut till October 17" said the legend on the ghoul painted plate glass door. No reason given. Hunh. Veronica's, SE HABLA ESPANOL, was shut too. No excuse, just coz. So much for industry and service in this bucolic slice of what used to be a great nation. 

Now We're Talkin'

Then Quality Cutz came to the rescue. They were open, weirdly, and I strode in. "You do haircuts?" I asked and in case you think that's redundant, think again. "Sure we do, mon," said Alphonso. He was from Mexico and alright. For him, Quality Cutz was his home. I told him to "cut it short and don't carve anything weird into it."

Your Friend

He didn't, and I'll go back there again. Support local business; Lord knows, there's little of it left, and that's just the hair.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Go to The Gunshop And Get a Haircut

A visit to Calgary isn't complete, for me at least, without a visit to the city's world famous Gun Shop Barber. That's right, a gun shop that's also a barber; you'll find it in Inglewood on 9th Avenue, and it's called Proline Shooters. I went there yesterday to browse the guns and get a cut.

Proline has a good, if smallish selection of firearms, and I cast a covetous eye at their burnished Sakos, gleaming behind the counter. Their pistol selection featured Glocks, Berettas and, I think, Sigs, plus a variety of I want one large revolvers. I may be wrong, but it seems that Canada bought into Beretta's PX4 Storm to a greater extent than the U.S. Whatever, Proline carries several variants. 

Then, after looking at a couple of sporterized Lees in the 2nd hand rack, I paid a visit to Dan the barber.

Dan, Photo by Jared Sych

We reminisced about his predecessor, Doug, who died of pancreatic cancer some years back. I liked Doug and was always curious about his socialism. Calgary's Red Barber, in a gun shop, that was him. May he rest in peace.

Haircut over, I headed out into the winter wonderland of 9th Avenue, and that, readers, was that.

Go to Proline, they're alright, and so's their barber, Dan.

Shoot straight,

LSP