Technically my award is inferior to yours, right? Technically my accomplishment is less than yours—you, the skinny, scraggly, pimply, sweaty winner.

But what happens when everyone sees me? What happens when the media takes in the sumptuous waves of my jet-black hair spilling over my broad, sculpted shoulders? What happens when all the fans get a look at my mustache, a.k.a. Slick Daddy, a.k.a. the Ethiopian Poisonous Caterpillar, with its aerodynamic lines and fearful symmetry?

What happens is that the camera bulbs flash and the video rolls, the line for selfies and autographs gets longer and longer, cars stop in the road and helicopters shelter in place, choruses of children sing hymns to my mullet, men from faraway lands give Slick Daddy exotic nicknames like Kaderin Dudak Kılı, which means “Lip-Hairs of Fate” in Turkish, or La Moustache Inconvenante, which I haven’t gotten around to translating yet but I’m pretty sure is, like, Swahili or something.

Now, you tell me—who really won?

Also keep in mind that while we’re standing next to each other, I use my superior athleticism to play keep-away with your first-place trophy and you can’t do a thing about it except swing your arms uselessly while I palm your forehead like a basketball.

Who really won? That’s right, you did. But no one cares!

And that’s why these grooming tips are so fucking important.

PROPER MULLET CARE

Look, I’m the last person who’s surprised that mullets are making a comeback right now. If anything, I’m surprised it took people thirty years to catch on.

Just this morning I spotted Tom Cruise, Leonardo DiCaprio, and the guy from the Dos Equis Most Interesting Man in the World commercials. They were all grabbing a latte together at the Starbucks in front of my multimillion-dollar Top Secret Command Center, and they were all rocking mullets.

So I was like, “Hey, boys, nice hair.”

And they were like, “Yeah, Doc, we’re copying you.”

And I was like, “Respect.”

But know this—it takes a lot of time and effort to get your mullet ready for public viewing, all right? I’ve been tending to the liquid black steel tumbling down my back since I was a lion’s cub in the art of hair styling. This shit ain’t easy, or else everybody would be doing it. It’s an art form.

Now, if I see you walking around out there with a shitty-looking mullet, it’ll make me puke—so if you’re gonna try this, I want you all in. Don’t do it for you, do it for me.

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