#596 Goldi-mullet

Pepsi has got into trouble with their Aquafina brand of bottled water. Seems they’ve been using the initials P.W.S. to identify the water’s source.
The feds are requiring them to spell the initials out.
Guess what? P.W.S. stands for Public Water Source.
What is also known as T.W.
Tap Water.
Yep, Aquafina is tap water—with added minerals, of course, to make it taste sweeter. It turns out that over 25% of all bottled water sold comes from municipal sources. And not necessarily good ones. There are no regulations.
I’m reminded of the souvenir chocolate someone once brought me from New York. And not just New York, from the Empire State Building. It was all packaged up and everything as an “official souvenir” of the Empire State Building. Then you looked at the label and it said, “manufactured in New Jersey.”
Just remind me not to buy any water from L.A. Gear. I come from that area and you wouldn’t have to add any minerals. At least those from the heavier end of the periodic table. Iron, Lead, Mercury, Diesel ...
So speaking of what’s up front not being the whole picture, my big question is, who still specializes in cutting mullets? How does the saying go for a mullet¾business in the front, party in the back?
The other night when we were in Chehalis—which, believe or not, is an Indian word that means “mullet”—we were amazed by how many people were still sporting same. So I’m guessing there are hair styling salons with a special mullet section on their price list and everything.
A little pre-mullet shaping shampoo and condition, to work in some 10-40 emollients.
A gum-snapping beautician in a Billy Ray Cyrus T-Shirt.
Well-sharpened scissors the size of hedge clippers for the flowing locks in the back.
Sheep shearing clippers for the patented mullet tight sides.
And at the amenities table, instead of yuppie organic tea, micro-roasted drip coffee, and questionably bottled water, a case of Buckhorn in a tailgate cooler.
Oh yeah. With Buckhorn you know what to expect.
The thought of it nearly causes an infarction in my achy breaky heart.
America, ya gotta love it