Neanderpundit

can be experienced at Joe’s Barber Shop, in Dyer, Indiana. It’s down the street from Hog Haven on Rt 30.

Joe , who I’ve posted about before, has no website. He has no credit card machine, either. He’ll take a check from you, if you know him really well, I suppose, but I always show up with cash.

I usually go High & Tight, these days, which takes Joe but minutes- and he does it with unequalled ease. Today I treated myself and went for the shave and haircut.

Joe is an old fashioned barber with old fashioned tools and old fashioned skills. His blades are so sharp you cannot feel them cutting the hair. He wraps that towel around your face and pats it down, two, maybe three times. Then shaves, all in one direction. Then he does it again, and shaves in the opposite direction. I won’t need to shave again till after Christmas.

When I win the Lottery, I’m gonna go to Joe’s every day. I walk out of his shop every time feeling like Strickland of the Police. I don’t give a damn about nuclear power or windmills or open heart surgery; the Barber Shave is civilization.

is that I seem to always find one in the shower with me.

With two longhaired women in the house, there’s always a ball of hair in the drain, and soon enough you find yourself standing in four inches of water.

In other news, it’s good to get home to my own bathroom. I have been away from my small hemostats for a while, and the ear hair has been getting rampant. Those of you who live in the midwest may have heard the screaming.

I now have a little baggie filled with ear hair, I’m thinking of having a pillow stuffed with it, eventually.

I’m used to the ones with the white/silver tips, the black shaft and the yellow base that grow on the edges of my ears. Where the thick, curly red one came from, I have no idea.