What Would Kinky Do?: How to Unscrew a Screwed-Up World (3 page)

ARRIVEDERCI MELANOMA

 

 
was just a small boy when our family dentist in Houston told my father it was imperative that he have his wisdom teeth taken out immediately. Fifty years later, my dad had them removed. My old-timer friend Earl Buckelew once told me he never paid any mind to cholesterol. "Hell," he said, "when we were growin' up, we didn't even know we had blood." My own attitude toward health matters has been pretty similar. In Hawaii and Australia, I've rarely bothered to apply suntan lotion unless it was to a shapely pair of legs obviously not belonging to me. In other words, I never gave much thought to saving my own skin. Then, things suddenly got serious as cancer.

Before my typewriter and I drown ourselves in intimations of morality, let me say for the record that I'm not a hypochondriac,

 

"My technique for rectal examination is somewhat different in that I'm gay and have no arms."

nor do I believe every word a doctor tells me. I've always possessed the two qualities that Ingrid Bergman claimed were essential to happiness: good health and bad memory. (At least I
think
it was Ingrid Bergman.) The fact is, sometimes if you ignore what a doctor tells you, everything will be fine. Other times you can answer that knock on the door and it's an old man with a scythe selling Girl Scout cookies.

At any rate, when I was in Austin a few months back, I noticed that parts of my anatomy were beginning to resemble those of an ancient sea tortoise. My Kerrville dermatologist, Fred Speck (I always thought Dr. Speck was a good name for a dermatologist), has a rather long waiting list, so I went to a new guy, Tom Yturri, a physician's assistant recommended to me by a doctor friend of my fairy godmother's. When I showed Yturri what was troubling me, he waved his hand and said it was nothing, but he did find two or three other little spots that piqued his curiosity. He brought in another guy, Dr. Kevin Flynn, who was wearing a rather elaborate pair of scuba goggles, and they studied the spots together.

"We'll do biopsies on these three," Yturri said at last.

"Let me guess," I said. "Whether you do two or three depends on how far behind you are on your boat payments?"

Yturri chuckled dryly. He did the biopsies fairly painlessly, putting each specimen into a separate little bottle like Dr. Quincy used to do on TV. Quincy was a coroner, of course, so his patients rarely made wisecracks.

"We'll call you in a few weeks," Yturri said. "Don't worry. It's probably nothing."

That was when I started to worry—and for good reason. Four days later, Yturri called to say that the spot on my shoulder was a melanoma. Very bad. The spot under my right eye was something that sounded like a "Sasquatch," which I'd always thought was an abominable snowman. Also very bad. Both of them, along with my wallet, had to be surgically removed right away. The spot on my right arm, apparently, was benign.

Why me? I'd never been perfect, but at least I'd been Godfearing enough to avoid going to temple. And what the hell was a melanoma, anyway? Like most Americans, I had no idea, although I knew I didn't want one. Fortunately, Roscoe West, formerly of the Texas Jewboys, was my housepest at the ranch that weekend. His brother, he said, had once had a melanoma. "Is he still with us?" I asked.

"No," Roscoe said.

"I see," I said, as I swallowed my cigar.

I also talked with people who knew someone with a melanoma who'd survived and had never been visited with skin cancer again. All this put me through some rather wild mood swings, at times causing me to feel almost at death's door. I'd tell friends about my situation, and they'd say, "Oh, I'm so sorry." This response did little to lift my spirits. At other times, however, I found myself in a surprisingly good mood. Fighting cancer, I thought, might help lend focus to my otherwise unstructured life. It might give me something I'd never really had before: a hobby.

On the day of my surgery, I met with two doctors: Aravind Sankar, from India by way of Los Angeles, and Patti Huang, from Taiwan by way of North Carolina. I came from Northwest Austin by way of pickup truck. "This ain't what's going to get you, Kinky," Dr. Sankar assured me. "The melanoma is very superficial."

"So am I," I told him. "But I don't want to die before the next Yanni concert."

In a small bed in a small room, wearing a hospital smock, I watched a young nurse try to put a needle in my arm for the IV. A fifteen-year-old from a local high school was standing by taking copious notes.

"Damn!" I said, after being jabbed repeatedly to no avail.

"Please don't curse," the nurse said officiously.

"What the hell?" I said, paraphrasing my father. "I can't say 'damn' in front of a c-h-i-l-d?"

I was angry. The one thing I didn't need was a young person who couldn't put in an IV giving me a morality lecture just moments before I was to be wheeled into surgery. Luckily, a major tension convention was avoided. Another person came in, put in the IV, and before I knew it, I was in the operating room.

Dr. Huang would be cutting on my face, apparently, at the same time that Dr. Sankar would be carving up my shoulder. Dr. Sankar introduced me to the anesthesiologist, whom he referred to as "the bartender." After that, it all seemed like a normal evening at the Continental Club. Later, Dr. Sankar told me that I'd really cracked up the operating room as I was coming to. Evidently, someone had asked me a question about my having been in the Peace Corps. My response, according to the good doctor, was that my penis had been cut off in Borneo.

At this writing, I'm happy to say that I'm alive and well and freely dispensing advice to wear sunscreen, a big hat, and a long-sleeved shirt, and to see your dermatologist regularly. In the case of old farts like myself, however, the damage was done long ago, and young people probably won't listen anyway. Health, after all, is merely the slowest possible rate at which we die.

The good news is that skin cancer is rarely fatal if caught early. I do have two little tips to share with you, both of which have worked for me. The first is to do what Michael Jackson does: Hire a guy to follow you around with an umbrella. If that doesn't work, try singing that cheerful old John Denver song, "Melanoma on my shoulder makes me happy."

A POCKET GUIDE TO MULLETS

 

he humble mullet has been around since the dawn of man. Modern-day scientists speculate that Homo erectus were the first humanoids to actively cultivate mullets; in fact, the oldest known mullet was rumored to have been discovered in a tar pit next to bag of pork rinds and a fossilized Iron Maiden album. It is argued that the mullet has endured where other creatures have fallen extinct because it is able to adapt to its environment, fluidly shifting and shaping itself like a Kentucky waterfall.

After deciding to acquire a mullet, the first question the new mullet owner must ask is, "What kind of mullet do I want?" Even though, like a snowflake, mullets are all different and beautiful, there are many distinct subspecies to choose from. In this pocket guide to mullets, I will describe mullets you may encounter during your hunt.

MULLET SUBSPECIES

The 10-90:
The truest form of the mullet, it contains 10 percent of hair on top and 90 percent in the back. The majority of famous mullets fall into this category: Jesus, Buffalo Bill, MacGyver, Patrick Swayze, Paul McCartney, Luke Sky-walker, Billy Ray Cyrus, Captain Planet. This is the father of all mullets and from its loins sprang all the following subspecies.

The Crimullet:
Favored by prison inmates, this is very similar in appearance to a classic mullet; the only difference is that this mullet will seldom, if ever, experience the sweet taste of freedom. Thumb through any prison's mugshot album and you'll find a whole herd of them.

The Drullet:
The dreadlock mullet is an exotic blend of mullet and dreadlock. The Drullet is not often seen in America; the most famous one is sported by English footballer Rio Ferdinand. Acquiring one of these may prove expensive due to its rarity.

The Dykemullet:
Dykemullets are intimidating and scary; known to be vicious toward males of any kind, this mullet will kill you if you piss her off. Training and socialization do not eliminate the natural-born aggression in these creatures. In many parts of the country their numbers are regulated because they are so feared. Most insurance companies won't provide coverage to homes with a Dykemullet in residence. Dykemullets should never be handled by anyone but professionals. Examples of Dykemullets are Aileen Wuornos and Darlie Routier. Know what they have in common besides their Dykemullets? That's right. They're both on death row (well, Aileen was until she was executed).

The Emoullet:
Worn by self-cutting emo kids (melodramatic, depressed teenagers who write bad, whiny poetry, wear girl pants, act glum, and cry in the dark), this delicate mullet always features long bangs brushed over one eye (usually the right eye) with short (sometimes back-combed) hair in the back. It is commonly described as a "reverse mullet." They can be found at any open poetry reading or emo band concert.

The Femullet:
This mullet appears on females and is often confused with the angrier, more dangerous Dykemullet. Femul-lets are generally easygoing, sporty, and paradoxically, either very quiet and docile or very loud and boisterous. Famous Femullets are tennis legend Billie Jean King, rock stars Pat Benatar and Joan Jett, Brady Bunch mom Florence Henderson, and Ashlee Simpson.

The Fohawk:
Also "Fauxhawk," this style is a mutation of the familiar Mohawk. It is made without buzzing or shaving the sides of the head; it looks like a Mohawk when it is spiked with gel or spray, but unlike the Mohawk's shaved-to-the-skin sides (think Travis Bickle in
Taxi Driver,
or Mr. T), the Fohawk keeps the sides a bit longer so it can be worn down as well. Mullet professionals consider the Fohawk to be a hybrid cousin to the mullet. Famous Fohawks include Ryan Seacrest, host of
American Idol,
British soccer star David Beckham, and Bruno the Gay Austrian Fashion reporter from
Da Ali G Show.

The Gullet:
Inspired by the eighties band Flock of Seagulls (and in particular lead singer and former hairstylist Mike Score), this glorious mullet's identifying characteristic is the sweeping wings that make the head look like it is poised to take flight. This style depends heavily upon generous application of gel or hairspray to get the seagull wing effect. To emphasize the wings, the hair on the top of the head is sometimes allowed to grow long and then combed forward to resemble the seagull's beak. Mike Score discovered this breathtaking mullet, and he and his band are forever revered by Gulletheads everywhere.

The Jhericurullet:
a mulletized version of the Jheri Curl, a hairstyle that was common and popular in the African American community in the late 1970s and throughout the '80s. This mullet works best on hair that is naturally tightly curled, like the Afro or the Jewfro; it is not recommended for beginners due to its high-maintenance upkeep. The Jhericurullet must be oiled to excess or it will die of dehydration. To help you remember its specialized care, memorize the following: "Here's a tip: it must drip." This style was worn by Little Richard, Michael Jackson (whose head burst into flames because of the excess oil and open flames during that infamous Pepsi commercial), Lionel Richie, Barry White, Pedro Martinez, and Jean Claude Van Damme.

The Mulletadon:
Mainly seen on the heads of professional wrestlers, cage fighters, gladiators, and other alpha men, this pelt is often curly or wavy and is always long and flowing. Examples are Conan the Barbarian (Arnold's version) and any professional wrestler.

The Mullatino:
Hispanics have done more for the mullet than just about any other group of people save white Southern males. Because of the natural full-bodied thickness of the Mullatino, these beautiful specimens can be shaped and sculpted into glorious monuments of mulletude that can be breathtaking to behold. Famous Mullatinos are Antonio Banderas, Fernando Lamas, Lorenzo Lamas, and Keith Hernandez.

The Mullitia:
Worn by female military personnel, female law enforcement officers, and female astronauts, this mullet is known to be brave, loyal, and hardworking.

The Pullet:
Sometimes called a Rooster, this mullet is often seen in the company of rock-and-roll stars. Its main feature is its spiky crown that resembles the feathers of a proud cock. Some famous pullets are Rod Stewart, Keith Richards, Ron Wood, and Iggy Pop.

The Skullet:
This version has been popularized by American hero Benjamin Franklin and more recently professional wrestler Hulk Hogan and porn superstar Ron Jeremy. This mullet features a bald or shaved crown ringed with cascading hair on the sides and back.

T
he term "Mullethead" was believed to have originated from the 1967 prison film
Cool Hand Luke,
starring Paul Newman and George Kennedy, in which Kennedy's character refers to Southern men with long hair as "Mullet Heads."