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Damn it, I hate to agree with Pfaltzgraff.

After the whole mustache debacle last year, I had had enough of the guy and his ill-founded opinions. Dear God, the guy eats Harmony cereal for breakfast!

But here's where Pfaltzy was right on the money: the mullet. Whatever its uses or practices, whether in actual existence, or in cheap dime store speculation, is plain ridiculous.

Pfaltzgraff frequently speaks of a place called Mullets Galore, and while I generally steer clear of anything that Dr. Geoffrey recommends, I perused its archive of porn mullets to find that, short of Ron Jeremy himself, there's not too much to be gained from having a mullet.

The mustache has practical ramifications. It warms the lip in a way that Pfaltzgraff's "milk" mustache never could. It shields the lip from unfortunate sneeze snot. It attracts the bold and the beautiful. It is by no accident that Burt Reynolds has worked as long in Hollywood as he has. I hear even Burt Reynolds' casting agent has a mustache! But I digress.

I kept from judging the mullet because I hate to agree with Pfaltzgraff and his damned armadillo pocket protector. But I finally saw the light, or the dark rather, of that occult hairstyle. Business in front, party in back?

Screw it.

I hate the mullet.