— Chip Conley, author of Peak
There’s something cathartic about getting your haircut at an authentic barber shop. We live in a city surrounded by franchised wannabes with taglines such as “It’s Wicked Awesome” and “The Original Rock n’ Roll Barber Shop”.
There’s sadly nothing original about these places, housing displaced cosmetology students looking for a step up from their local beauty salon. I respect their desire to make a living but that doesn’t mean I’ll opt to give them my business. Not because they cut hair any better or worse then my local chop shop, but because there’s no empathy. A good barber will listen to your problems, your challenges in life, and offer sage advice, sparing you a pilgrimage to the Amba Mata temple in the process.
I live by a general rule - there are three places a man can go to relieve himself of his troubles - the end of a bar, a psychiatrist’s couch or a barber’s chair. Sometimes they can be all in the same and I’m thankful for me that’s the case.
You’re a vampiric vacuum, giving me pain every year of my life, including while in the womb and you’ve been unapologetic each time. Yet every Sunday, every God Damn Sunday, I watch on television or in person, hoping for a different outcome yet experience the same results.
I’d tell you that I’m quitting you; that you aren’t worth my time and attention but it would be a lie. I’d tell you that I don’t want my kids to even know you exist, that the colors Honolulu Blue and Silver are no different than any others in the spectrum of colors but who are we kidding? We’re suckers. We’ll always be suckers. Filling a stadium full of other suckers joined by an entire metropolitan area of suckers who get sucked in to watch you suck. Every. Single. Season.
Do you know what I want from you, Lions? I want you to cut Calvin Johnson and give him a chance to play for a real NFL team. I want you to keep Jim Schwartz as coach just so he has to wade through the septic byproduct he puts on the field week in and week out. But you know what I really want? I want you to force the Fords to accept the NFL’s help in building a contender. That or make them sell and move the team away from Detroit. Away from all of us!
We don’t need them.
We don’t want them.
Good riddance and see you next season.