Strolling through Morningside Park on a perfect fall Sunday in New York City (sunny and windy), I overheard a cackle of laughs from a group of guys about to play touch football. Apparently, the group was ribbing one of its members for a new haircut that made him "look like a cop." The butt of the joke did not take this ribbing kindly. When the belly-laughs subsided, he addressed the group thusly: "Choke on your spit, die in your sleep, and to anybody else who got something to say - I hope your girl gets herpes." Ouch.
The solution for avoiding such nasty exchanges over hairstyle is obvious: male friends all ought to have the same haircut. The salutary effects of such uniformity are on display here.
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