Nice shave.

The Drowned and the Shaved

Nice shave.

Shave the best for last. That’s the name of my unreleased parody album that skewers 90’s soft rock singles with songs like Wind Beneath My Pants and Jogging in Memphis. It’s still being mixed by a sound engineer, though, so don’t bug me about slipping you an early copy, OK?! You may be wondering how I came up with such an amazing title for my parody album, or you may be cleaning strawberry preserves out of the floor mats of your station wagon at a rest area in Orlando, FL-there’s really no way of knowing. That’s because I like to think that everybody in the world is, at heart, one of my readers. Even those of you who have never heard of me or don’t speak English or read English or see. Believe it or not, I thought of my satirically scathing parody album title while shaving! For the record, I was shaving my face, not legs. Although I suppose shaving my face is the equivalent of a woman shaving her legs, because my facial hair grows at such a slow rate that it is more to prevent unsightly socially taboo stubble from occupying my cheeks than the facial brush-clearing that most men my age grapple with every morning. I have also, on more than one occasion, used Wife’s lady razor to get the job done. But trust me, this is out of pure laziness, and NOT because I like the way the moisture bar releases skin conditioner as I shave, making me feel like I’m scrubbing my chin with velvet. That would be weird!

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