Rick's Space

Buns

Clip-on man buns exist, much to Rick’s chagrin

Yeah, I’m really sorry I don’t have a “man bun.”

The matter came up when one of the ladies in the office mentioned she liked some guy’s “man bun.”

Being Catholic, I didn’t ask what that was, but Googled it later.

It apparently is a bird’s nest made out of human hair perched on either the very top of a man’s head or right on the back of his neck where infected sebaceous cysts frequently fester.

“It’s hot looking,” Karen assured me. Maybe to a bird with a worm dangling out of its mouth, yes. But to me, no.

First of all, I like to wear baseball caps, because I’m manly, a world class athlete, and also because it’s hot looking.

If I had a man bun, I would have to cut off part of the cap to accommodate the man bun (and the bird with the worm) and that would negate the entire purpose of the hat, which is to cover my head.

It must be extremely difficult to grow a man bun. Most guys — well, most normal guys — go to Tony the barber every four months or so and say something like, “Bring it down, Tony,” or “Take it all off.”

Women don’t go to barbers. They go to hairdressers. They say stuff like “Feather it a couple inches over here,” and “Make sure you don’t cut any off the top.” To me, there is no point in going to the barbershop unless he has to sweep the floor afterward.

The main difference between a hairdresser and a barber is hairdressers apparently wash your hair. Tony has never washed my hair, and as far as I can tell, doesn’t wash his own very often either.

If I had a man bun, I would have to cut off part of the cap to accommodate the man bun (and the bird with the worm) and that would negate the entire purpose of the hat, which is to cover my head.

For those who don’t know it, this column doesn’t write itself. It requires an extensive amount of research (unless, of course, I can steal an idea from someone). Today I uncovered this startling headline, from Bustle: “Clip-On Man Buns Exist Because Hipster Men Deserve Extensions Too.”

The pictures made me a little queasy. Little rodent-like buns were cradled gently in feminine hands in the ad. They came in all sizes and colors. Aren’t they wigs?

It got worse. It turns out that the real name for a man bun, the formal name you would use if, say, you were being introduced to English royalty, is a “Top Knot.”

Someone at Buckingham Palace would make the introduction. “Your Highness Prince Charles, this is Sir Richard of the Hamptons. Notice he has a proper Top Knot.”

I would be beside myself with honor. “Yo, Chuck, what was it like bonking Princess Diana?” I would ask, using my best King’s English.

So here was the point of the article: there is a new product out in the booming line of man bun accessories. It’s Clip-On Man Buns.

Look folks, I am not naive. Even after working on Wall Street and going to Catholic high school, I know how difficult it can be to put a tie on properly. The little end is too short, or maybe just the opposite, the little end is longer than the big end. And it always looks like the guy wearing the tie is considering hanging himself from a closet hanger later in the day because the knot looks like . . . well, a knot.

And so, God created clip-on ties, and I’m not too proud to admit I’ve been known to wear them. In fact, in high school I got extra credit if I wore the Sacred Heart Of Jesus Clip-On tie you could purchase from the St. Augustine Book Store for 99 cents.

But this abomination has taken a thing too far. In the article the author, Marlen Komar, points out women wear extensions and that men do as well.

How silly is this? Who has ever heard of a man wearing an extension? I mean . . . geez! A man wearing . . . how ridiculous. Who ever?

God graced me with a full head of hair, just like my pappy and his pappy before him. If I want a big ugly clump of it to gather anywhere on my head, I can make that happen with a jar of Brylcreem and a pint of Jack.

Next week: “What Do Fanny Packs and Man Buns Have In Common?”

rmurphy@indyeastend.com