FRIDAY, 19 MAY, 2000, PHILADELPHIA

Whew! Whattahelluvamonth! Your Marquis apologises for not entertaining you so prolifically as he has been inordinately busy with this and that and even that thing over there too also as well. The Marquis has been so harried of late that he is currently sporting Five Day Hair (FDH, to use the TLA) which is a phenomenon that occurs when one’s leisure hours are brusquely removed from one’s life, a handy-dandy fever pops up, and the most hygiene to which one can attend is a quick hop in the shower like a bunny, then out again. FDH is not at all unpleasant. There is no foul odour nor skankatron image associated with it. For you wearers of long hair, I’m sure you can appreciate FDH. Five days of rock n’ roll funk simulates the best pomade money can buy. One can slick back, or twist, or braid, or arrange, or coiff in any way imaginable — in ways that could only be dreamed with that annoying, unhealthy, freshly-warshed hair which is, during the humid months, nothing but a big, unmanageable frizzball of catsick. Dude! Five Day Hair! Wear it loud. Wear it proud. High five! Five Day Hair! Woo!