Time to Get my Hair Cut

I wore a suit and tie on Saturday.
Orders from the Warden.
It’s been months, maybe even years, since I last donned this outfit.
Not many funerals or weddings in my life (fortunately).
But consequences come with the monkey suit. I get more stares.
I was sitting at our table of friends while a guy at the table next to ours kept looking my way. I was looking his way too, since I thought he looked familiar. Then our good friend Lis went over to talk to him. They were friends from college. He told her that I looked familiar and she came over to introduce us. Instead of going through a list of possible past places or events, I decided to cut to the chase and introduce myself.
“Hi, my name is Dick Cheney.”
He chuckled and then admitted that maybe that was it. We tried the lists of possible places and events and people that might have brought us together at some past time, but to no avail. Maybe that was it.

I was at least my third Dick Cheney sighting in a week. A few days earlier, while ordering materials for work a guy asked if people ever confused me with the V.P. It was a good-humored discussion.

But a week or so earlier, I was visiting a number of renovated homes in Minneapolis proper, part of an annual home tour to promote city neighborhoods and fixing up properties. The home owner who greeted me was quite serious when he asked, “You’re not Dick Cheney, are you?” When I replied in the negative, he said, “Good, because if you were, I wouldn’t have let you in.” OK, I thought, better not discuss politics with this character.

So, I need to be careful. For I’ve found out that on my way to looking like Dilbert’s boss (with the three inch spiked hair on the sides of his head), my reverse Mohawk brings me to a point where I look like the man who really runs this country (just kidding).

It’s time to get out the scissors! But not the razor, lest I start to resemble the former guv, the Body.