Whilst I sit in semi-employment, I have decided to write a blog.
I am aware writing something each week makes it appear that I have important things to say. I can assure you, I don’t. The pieces I post will not be grandiose literary works, or cutting insights into modernity.
Instead, I will be contemplating things that don’t matter. Or at least what I have to say about them doesn’t matter.
That’s where the blog’s name came from. For a week in 2022, I obsessed about how many bald men became famous in the 1990s. Think about it. Larry David, Samuel L. Jackson, Jason Alexander, Vin Diesel, Stanley Tucci, Billy Corrigan, Seal, Jason Statham, all entrenched their celebrity status during that decade.
Yes, some – The Rock, John Travolta, Kevin Spacey - have made the transition to a barren scalp, but this was only done once they were already in the public eye. A soft launch, before revealing their true Voldemortian tendencies.
Since the turn of the century, who has garnered celebrity status without flowing locks to aid them? Paul Giamatti? I can’t think of anyone else.
In fact, many have transitioned in the opposite direction. Look at Wayne Rooney, whose sudden hirsuteness pioneered miraculous regrowth in the world of professional sport.
Does this matter? Clearly not.
So why am I writing about these things? Well, just because something isn’t important, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it. And that’s ultimately what I hope the people who stumble across my ramblings get. A little literary holiday. Something to read on the bus.
Enjoy it if you can, and please be kind if you can’t. I’ll try to be here once a week. Hopefully you all will be too.
