Get your hair cut! You look like a girl!
Aw, Dad, do I have to?
That was father-son hair conversation in the seventies. A simpler time. Fast forward to yesterday, when Ed brought up the topic of Dane Cook. I am not a fan, though I admire his energy. (To me he is the Pete Rose of comics, the Charlie Hustle who puts everything into every bit -- and I guess some of the bits are pretty good.) Ed is a huge fan, and not, I found out last night, of Dane's comedy alone. What do you think? he said, showing me the picture he had printed off the internet.
That's Dane Cook, I said, because my material is not always very good. I'm sure Mitch Hedberg or Eddie Izzard would have had a better line.
Yeah, but what do you think?
To me, I began, he is the Charlie Hustle of --
Of his hair, Ed finished.
I don't get asked about guy's hair very much. And Dane's looks pretty normal to me. I mean, he's not bald and he's not Def Leppard. He's in between.
Gee, Ed, I dunno, I said.
This is difficult for me, Dad, he said angrily. You could be more supportive. I'm trying to find my next look, and I'm thinking about Dane Cook.
I pointed to Dane's picture. You want to look like that? I said.
Well, what do you think?
I opened my mouth and closed it again. I ... uh ... sure, I said. Again, Robin Williams would have done better.
You're my son, I said. I'd love you if you wanted Kojak's hair.
I don't want your love, he said. I want a useful comment. Imo, what do you think?
My daughter pondered the picture for a moment. I like it, she said.
Ed turned to me. See? Was that so hard?