Sunday, April 24, 2005

You Have Completely Misunderstood My Rat-Tail

You, sir, have offended me.

How dare you presume to ridicule my hairstyle, when in fact it is you who is worthy of ridicule! Why, if this were the year 1880, I’d be within my rights to—

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. It’s just . . . I get this a lot. People judge me every day, and never bother to find out anything at all about my reasoning, my choice. But if you’re willing to listen, I’ll explain.

You see, my great-great-great grandfather Oyinye was the chief of a mighty and noble tribe, the Kanaxaja, native to what would come to be called South America by the white man but what we have called Oaxit-Meztltlan from time immemorial. The young men of our tribe were warriors—the bravest in the world, as legend held—and they styled their hair in the fashion of Kwakutl, our fiery and furious god of war.

Many years later, as luck would have it, hockey fans and motorcycle enthusiasts would unwittingly take on the ceremonial hairstyle of the Kanaxaja-rattan, with society ignorantly and heartlessly doling out to a once-proud tradition the blasphemous and accursed name of “rat-tail.”

And in one fell swoop, my friend, the mighty Kanaxaja fell.

I am one of only a few surviving members of our great tribe, and I carry on my head the Kanaxaja-rattan as a symbol of bravery, intelligence, and fury. Not as a symbol of a love of motorsports or an inclination toward arctic-tinged donnybrooks.

To think that the same sacred adornment that accompanied my brethren into battle as they scalped and impaled hordes of invading white men is now an obsolete, outdated fashion statement reserved for the most oblivious and self-deluded of fifty-something prison guards and bodybuilders—why, it makes my fiery blood run cold. That the luscious, interwoven locks of the Kanaxaja-rattan could be mistaken for the filthy tail of a rodent is almost beyond comprehension.

There is hope for the Kanaxaja-rattan, though, my gentle friend. After decades of poor representation in the media, the noble character of this most blessed of hairstyles has once again shone forth in the personages of Anakin Skywalker and his fellow Jedi Knights. They, like the furious men of my tribe, choose wisdom over ignorance, truth over falsehood, and justice over the tweaking of chrome parts to make them produce louder noises. They carry with them a snaking, stealthy brotherhood with the Kanaxaja. Indeed, the great, satiated smile of Kwakutl appears like a beacon in the reddish sky.

Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe using Anakin Skywalker is a bad example, as he does eventually turn upon his fellow Jedi and slaughter almost every last one of them in ignoble fury.

But at least it’s a start.


Anonymous redhead said...

God bless you, you crazy bastards. You've given me a reason to live.

April 27, 2005  

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