Ricky Scaggs Don't Cheat in Our Hometown (Epic, 1983) Aw, yeah. Here I am. Ricky Skaggs. Just hangin' out on a bridge in Nashville. People are slowing down. Honking. Waving. Why? You know why. The Hair. This isn't just any old mullet. This is the best damn hair they've ever seen. Want proof? Check out the back cover.
That's right. This Hair is a finely manicured piece of art. It's like an ice sculpture at a Mafia wedding. It's like a green at the Masters Tournament, molded onto my head. It's perfection. A coiffure like this isn't an easy thing to come by. First, you need to be born with a natural gift: even the sharpest scissors can't make a housecat into a lion. Then you have to build a team of the finest professionals in the business. A man who wields a comb like a paintbrush. Another who can do things with a blow dryer that could take the stripes off a barber's pole. A third - a master of gels and lotions.
But the most important thing you need to have this kind of hair? Confidence. Without it, a great haircut is but an empty helmet filled with broken dreams. A confident man understands that great hair comes with great responsibility, and he does not shy away from accepting it. A confident man can stand on a bridge in Nashville, waving at the passing motorists, and know: this is the best damn hair they've ever seen.
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