Determined to create a fun, Morrissey-related news story that doesn’t include implications of racism or glib dismissals of massacres, yesterday Morrissey finished getting a haircut at a Dallas “greaser salon,” scooped up his own shorn locks, and then “took them to go,” presumably placing them in a velvet pouch and handing them off to a footman for safe-keeping. Actually, all suggestions of delightful eccentricity aside, there’s probably a more rational explanation: Morrissey’s Famous Vegetarian Hair Stew, simmered in cornstarch and tears cried while watching slaughterhouse videos. It's good for keeping down the urges to say asinine things.
Or maybe it's just that Morrissey is no doubt acutely aware that Morrissey fans are crazy obsessive, and hoped to avoid finding his hair being peddled on eBay—or displayed in someone’s home for all eternity, sort of like this friend I have who stalked Morrissey at a local pizzeria before Tuesday’s concert in Austin, then bagged up his leftover slice and took it home to put in her freezer. Seriously. She knows who she is. Anyway, she and everyone else will have to continue to find alternative, equally gross methods to capturing Morrissey’s essence, while the giant hairball in Morrissey’s vanity room just gets bigger and bigger. Soon it will need new and flouncier ribbons.
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