The Mullet Menu

On my way to work the other day in my pick up, I decided to punch up one of the two classic rock radio stations I can get out here in the western hills of southern Maine. WHEB, 100 something on the FM dial was between blocks of music. I caught them just as the Jock announced that coming up, a solid block of music from "The Mullet Menu" would take us all back to times best forgotten by some and remembered with misted eye by others.

I had to chuckle. Before they played the first song, I knew roughly what line up of groups would probably be represented. The Rock Gods of the 1980s and in some locations still the Rock Gods would wail their way back from the past. AC/DC, Motley Crue, Van Halen, or some other big hair, massive mullet band that came into their fame and glory in the 1980s.

I missed the Mullet age. I came into my rock maturity during the late 60s and early 70s. Weaned on the Doors, Led Zepplin, Cream, Hendrix, and a healthy dose of Blues and Bluegrass. I lived the Hippie life.

Then I got married. Settled down and immediately became a mature adult with no time for these posers popping up. All the good Rock had been done. Def Lepard, Whitesnake, Twisted Sister - all of them just hacks ripping off the true masters. I was sure of it. And what's up with the hair? What do you call a hairdo that looks like they couldn't make up their mind when they sat down for Joe, local barber to perform his magic. "Just some off the sides Joe. Leave the back. Not sure which one looks better."

I made fun of the mullet heads just like the crewcut preppie types in Weejuns and button down collar shirts made fun of me back in the day. Recently I figured out that my braided long hair, tie dyed fashion choice looked as ridiculous as any mullet head out there. I began to identify with these clowns. Afterall, we are all bozos on this bus. We all flirt with and sometimes embrace popular fads that in 20 years we look back and say, "Just what the Hell was I thinking?"

Maybe what I am experiencing is that mellowing many people say comes with having more than a few years under my belt. What it feels like is my perspective seems to be expanding. The stranger the world seems, the reality is it's all just the same ole shit with a different twist.

So wear that mullet dude. Let your freak flag fly. And though the locks are grey now and that sleeveless domestic quarrel shirt fits a tad snugger than it used to, you still cut quite the dashing figure when you stop at DQ for a soft serve sundae.