The 2nd Sunday Of December Dawns Bright & Cold In Texas With Anonymous Commenting On My Bold Baldness

The dawn view through the bars of my patio prison cell indicates that the 2nd Sunday of the last month of 2011 is starting off with a bright clear sky.

My computer-based outer world temperature information indicates the outer world at my location is currently chilled to 36 degrees.

Once again I will not be going swimming this morning.

Speaking of swimming, well, more precisely, skinny dipping, whilst swimming. Yesterday I blogged about the similarities between myself and former President John Quincy Adams, including our mutual follicle challenges.

This prompted someone calling him or herself Anonymous to make what I found to be a semi-amusing comment....

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Skinny Dipping President John Quincy Adams & I Are So Much Alike It Is Uncanny": 

Bald(ing)? You? I've been suffering under a misapprehension. Well, not suffering really - more like 'laboring' perhaps? No, not laboring either...anyway, I didn't know you are bald, or balding, and strangely, I still sort of doubt it. The pictures I've seen don't provide corroboration, unless you use spray-on hair. 

I am sorry I caused someone Anonymous to suffer. But it pleases me to learn my spray-on hair is successful in creating its intended illusion.

This would be the part in my morning blogging where I usually would say it is time to go swimming.

I just realized this is the first morning that someone might realize that the reason I wear a wool cap when I go swimming is so that my spray-on hair does not get washed away.

Melancholy & Baldness Outbreak Goes Epidemic

Gar the Texan made a totally inappropriate comment about my new hair-free hairstyle. The poor boy seems to always be about a decade out of sync. He had a mullet, known in the Northwest as a Pocatella-doo, well into this century.

I was appalled when I first met Gar the Texan and saw he had hair that said, hello, I am visiting from 1980. It took all my tactful, diplomatic skills to get that boy to realize the error of his hair choice. Within a year he credited my good advice with causing him both a promotion at work and the acquiring of yet one more wife.

And just recently Gar the Texan learned he will someday have a house in Germany, courtesy of that new wife. Without my gentle prodding to lose the mullet, none of this good fortune would have fallen Gar the Texans way. But is he grateful? No. Instead he cast aspersions, today, on my advice giving. I'm appalled.

Meanwhile, I guess Ryan Seacrest decided to try out being bald. I don't know how to get to the totally bald point. Nair for Men?

In addition to the self-inflicted baldness epidemic, melancholy also seems to be spreading. Today my physical therapist, Dr. L.C., came down with a bad case of the blues. I tried to get her to come hiking with me at the Tandy Hills Natural Sanatorium Area, but she refused. Without my daily boost of endorphins triggered by aerobic stress, I'm a mess. After I get my fix, I'm a new person, before that, not so much.