How (and why) to Ramble on your goat sideways
Boost Pope
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Dammit, DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT,
My barber, Tony, the vulgar, racist, loud-mouthed, crusty old Italian ex-cop from Detroit, to whom I have been un-failingly loyal since I moved to southern California in 2005...
HAS RETIRED!
If I hadn't already been planning to leave So.Cal for good next week, I'd have certainly done so after this.
My barber, Tony, the vulgar, racist, loud-mouthed, crusty old Italian ex-cop from Detroit, to whom I have been un-failingly loyal since I moved to southern California in 2005...
HAS RETIRED!
If I hadn't already been planning to leave So.Cal for good next week, I'd have certainly done so after this.
Boost Pope
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This was my one vice.
My one indulgence.
My one nod to the niceties of a civil society.
In every place I have lived, there has always been ONE crusty old barber (sometimes two who share a shop) and I have *ALWAYS* made it a point to ingratiate myself to them and become known as a dependable client who tips very generously.
I enjoyed my regular visits to Tony's place. It was a simple, unassuming shop with no adornments whatsoever save an old barber pole outside. You'd come in and plop down on the ancient, ugly sofa, pick up a copy of National Geographic from 1986, and re-live the glory days of Glasnost and the New Soviet Ethos while he rambles on to whoever is in the chair about his days as a beat-cop in the inner city, abusing his power and keeping the black man down.
Then, when it was your turn, you'd sidle up into that old barber chair which should have been re-upholstered 40 years ago but somehow managed to stay together, and enjoy a no-bullshit haircut consisting of a quick pass with the sheep-shearer followed by a violent assault with the scissors during which you are certain that you will leave with one ear shorter than the other, and once that's done, a soothing squirt from the hot-lather machine and a few deft swipes at the neck with the straight razor are the cherry on top.
And now he's gone, and there is absolutely no way that a ******* flowbee is going to make up for that.
Besides, I'm ******* Cuban. My hair is like steel wool, and there's no way that any pansy-*** vacuum cleaner attachment is going to do a proper job of getting it nice and even all around, with the oh-so-vital taper at the base that prevents me from looking like I have public hair growing out of the back of my neck.
My one indulgence.
My one nod to the niceties of a civil society.
In every place I have lived, there has always been ONE crusty old barber (sometimes two who share a shop) and I have *ALWAYS* made it a point to ingratiate myself to them and become known as a dependable client who tips very generously.
I enjoyed my regular visits to Tony's place. It was a simple, unassuming shop with no adornments whatsoever save an old barber pole outside. You'd come in and plop down on the ancient, ugly sofa, pick up a copy of National Geographic from 1986, and re-live the glory days of Glasnost and the New Soviet Ethos while he rambles on to whoever is in the chair about his days as a beat-cop in the inner city, abusing his power and keeping the black man down.
Then, when it was your turn, you'd sidle up into that old barber chair which should have been re-upholstered 40 years ago but somehow managed to stay together, and enjoy a no-bullshit haircut consisting of a quick pass with the sheep-shearer followed by a violent assault with the scissors during which you are certain that you will leave with one ear shorter than the other, and once that's done, a soothing squirt from the hot-lather machine and a few deft swipes at the neck with the straight razor are the cherry on top.
And now he's gone, and there is absolutely no way that a ******* flowbee is going to make up for that.
Besides, I'm ******* Cuban. My hair is like steel wool, and there's no way that any pansy-*** vacuum cleaner attachment is going to do a proper job of getting it nice and even all around, with the oh-so-vital taper at the base that prevents me from looking like I have public hair growing out of the back of my neck.
Last edited by Joe Perez; 08-02-2013 at 06:03 PM.
2 Props,3 Dildos,& 1 Cat
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The crusty old barber is a dying breed, Joe. It's something you'll have to come to grips with. I can pretty much promise you that my dad is about the only old white guy left in silicon valley.
I'll see where he gets his hair cut and let you know.
I'll see where he gets his hair cut and let you know.
Boost Pope
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I mean, go on Yelp.com and look up reviews for Tony's Barber Shop in San Marcos, CA. Here are a few excerpts from four different reviews, so you know I'm not bullshitting you:
"His prior police service and his age make him rough around the edges; he is not a politically correct Californian. He talks about his experiences, distinguishing often between white people and black people."
"the shop is a dump."
"The owner is a bigot (...) believe me it is worth waiting 30-45 minutes somewhere else unless you want to listen to a tirade full of racism."
"I had to listen to a 30 minute rant from this guy how blacks are the cause of all the problems in the world including a long-winded story about his days on the Detroit Police Department."
"the shop is a dump."
"The owner is a bigot (...) believe me it is worth waiting 30-45 minutes somewhere else unless you want to listen to a tirade full of racism."
"I had to listen to a 30 minute rant from this guy how blacks are the cause of all the problems in the world including a long-winded story about his days on the Detroit Police Department."
And I'm not cherry-picking here. Fully 75% of the reviews on this place are all about how crappy-looking the shop is, how Tony is a bigot, etc etc.
I mean, those reviewers probably wrote that stuff as though they thought it was a bad thing, but holy *****, these are the EXACT things I am looking for in a barbershop! I want a no-bullshit haircut by a crusty old man who doesn't give a damn if you think his sofa is old and ugly, and who is such an utter ******* that the only POSSIBLE way that he could still be in business after all these decades is that he must be the best damned barber within a 20 km radius.
Elite Member
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I have been going to the same place since I was 16. It's moved twice, changed owners at least three times, and several of the best barbers are now dead. But it's still Panorama Barbershop to everyone, in spite of the name changes over the years.
Rob, the guy that took it over is late 20s-early 30s. But he's good, he's fast, and his prices are as good or better than the "hairstyling salons" around. He's far too young to be crusty, but he is an opinionated conservative, so he's on the right track.
I'll keep going there until I die.
Rob, the guy that took it over is late 20s-early 30s. But he's good, he's fast, and his prices are as good or better than the "hairstyling salons" around. He's far too young to be crusty, but he is an opinionated conservative, so he's on the right track.
I'll keep going there until I die.
Boost Pope
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And you know what? I would be happy to have an argument with him about it. Because that's what good barbers do- they get all opinionated and have arguments about stupid ****.
Yeah, no such luck here. The sign is gone, and the interior of the shop is being remodeled. I went into the cell-phone store next door (why do those still exist?) and the guy told me that Tony is gone, he sold the space, and it's being turned into some kind of fru-fru salon.
****.
That.
****.
I'm hardly the pinnacle of high fashion, but dammit, I take pride in a good haircut. Ain't no way in **** some hedge-trimmer with a # whatever guard is gonna properly shape my rugged and majestic coiffe, or take the place of a proper straight-razor shave on the back of the neck
****.
That.
****.
I'm hardly the pinnacle of high fashion, but dammit, I take pride in a good haircut. Ain't no way in **** some hedge-trimmer with a # whatever guard is gonna properly shape my rugged and majestic coiffe, or take the place of a proper straight-razor shave on the back of the neck
I'm a terrible person
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I used to get my hair cut by a badass barber with 1 eye, and his buddy some really old Italian guy I couldn't understand a single damn word he said. It was great. It was super relaxing. But then I moved and I hate people too much to try and find a new one.
Last edited by FRT_Fun; 08-03-2013 at 09:18 AM.
I honestly don't understand. Unless you're into high fashion or something, haircutting is not rocket science. My experience with crusty old barbers is that they give you the haircut they want you to have. A good stylists gives you the haircut they think you want to have. Or, as in my case, they give me a cut they think is inoffensive.
I've been getting cuts from the same person for about five years. When I first started going to her she was still living with her parents. I know right? I should be in prison. But it turns out that having a person cut your hair and having sex with them aren't the same thing, so I'm totally in the clear! Seriously though, she's able to cut my hair the way I like it, which isn't asking all that much in reality.
And the fact is I like her. I enjoy spending twenty minutes with her. I treat her like a niece and she treats me like a cool uncle, or maybe a creepy old guy with creepy old hair. Whatever. I get a good haircut, which isn't rocket science.
I've been getting cuts from the same person for about five years. When I first started going to her she was still living with her parents. I know right? I should be in prison. But it turns out that having a person cut your hair and having sex with them aren't the same thing, so I'm totally in the clear! Seriously though, she's able to cut my hair the way I like it, which isn't asking all that much in reality.
And the fact is I like her. I enjoy spending twenty minutes with her. I treat her like a niece and she treats me like a cool uncle, or maybe a creepy old guy with creepy old hair. Whatever. I get a good haircut, which isn't rocket science.
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I know of a couple of old, crusty barber shops where you get a haircut from 1954 whether you want it that way or not. The places haven't changed since "My Three Sons" went out of production and into reruns. They are in older, dirtier, strip shopping centers in 'more established' parts of town. One is next to a coin laundry. The oldest barbers tend to be Korean war vets with shaky hands, but deft skills, with just a few younger guys (mid to late forties and fifties) thrown in to the mix. They all seem to be from Bawwstun or LawnGuyyyLind, wherever that is.
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I honestly don't understand. Unless you're into high fashion or something, haircutting is not rocket science. My experience with crusty old barbers is that they give you the haircut they want you to have. A good stylists gives you the haircut they think you want to have. Or, as in my case, they give me a cut they think is inoffensive.
I've been getting cuts from the same person for about five years. When I first started going to her she was still living with her parents. I know right? I should be in prison. But it turns out that having a person cut your hair and having sex with them aren't the same thing, so I'm totally in the clear! Seriously though, she's able to cut my hair the way I like it, which isn't asking all that much in reality.
And the fact is I like her. I enjoy spending twenty minutes with her. I treat her like a niece and she treats me like a cool uncle, or maybe a creepy old guy with creepy old hair. Whatever. I get a good haircut, which isn't rocket science.
I've been getting cuts from the same person for about five years. When I first started going to her she was still living with her parents. I know right? I should be in prison. But it turns out that having a person cut your hair and having sex with them aren't the same thing, so I'm totally in the clear! Seriously though, she's able to cut my hair the way I like it, which isn't asking all that much in reality.
And the fact is I like her. I enjoy spending twenty minutes with her. I treat her like a niece and she treats me like a cool uncle, or maybe a creepy old guy with creepy old hair. Whatever. I get a good haircut, which isn't rocket science.
Now days it sure feels like it... and no body can cut hair to save their life. Not sure how those people go to school for that **** and still fail miserably. Few years ago i ended up going to a new salon since my original one was closed and i needed a hair cut for the following monday (event). Lets just say that when they were done one side of my head was half the length of the other side... and i told them i wanted to spike my hair so i wanted it even.
I'm hardly the pinnacle of high fashion, but dammit, I take pride in a good haircut. Ain't no way in **** some hedge-trimmer with a # whatever guard is gonna properly shape my rugged and majestic coiffe, or take the place of a proper straight-razor shave on the back of the neck
Besides, I have a beautiful head and a big kickass squiggly scar on my head; why would I ever want to cover that up?
I use a trimmer with whatever guard I have that is clean and cut my hair into pieces of saran wrap that I lay into the sink. I get the back whenever I have a friend over.