I’ve been so busy since the launch of this website, that little things have gone neglected. Little things like getting my haircut.
It’s a beautiful day in Philadelphia, and I had to walk my tax papers over to my accountant. So, I decided to stop on the way back and get my haircut.
My barber was born in Italy and immigrated here in 1959. He’s a wonderful guy, fun, friendly, and full of interesting stories.
Lots of mobsters come in to get a shave and a haircut, or just to shoot the shit. It’s always a gas to sit there reading their plentiful supply of Maxim magazines and listen to the old guys talk about how much their goomah’s love Viagra.
They always have Jerry Springer on the television, or something equally stupid that I never ordinarily get to see.
Today I was lucky because there was only one person in front of me and he was already in the chair. I picked up a magazine and starting reading about what horny co-eds like in the sack. It’s all part of adjusting to one’s environment.
When it was my turn, we discussed how I wanted my hair done and then we began our conversation.
He was pissed off that Jimmy Carter had been told there was no room for him in the American funeral party for the Pope. “The fatta is gunna be dere, dat’s two people frum da same fammly, why can’t dey let Cartah go?”
“And da black broad, whazzer name?”
“Uh, Condoleezza Rice?”
“Right, da black broad, wuz her job now?
“Um…currently she is Secretary of State.”
“Mmn, yeah. Da black broad is going. Deh don wanna see her.”
“Right. Well. Um. Yeah, they really should let Carter go, he has more in common with the Pope anyway.”
This went on for some time. Then we moved on to other subjects. He told me about various millionaires he has known, and how stingy they were with their money.
“Why duz a man with one yacht gotta go buy anuddah one? Why not give da money to hiz frends?”
And then it got more interesting. He told me about a woman who ran for office in Italy, back in the late 50’s. She had no platform, but she promised to close down the whorehouses.
“She convinced all da women, dis broad, she toll em, ‘you want your man goin to all deez udda women? Or you wanim to come home to you?’. So, she won. And she closed down all da whorehouses. Let me tell you it was a damn shame. The women uzed to be so clean. And den they was in the streets, in da cars…standing up if ya know whaddi mean.”
Then he started telling me about the old days. He said you could go to the whorehouse and it cost about 10 cents at the time.
Anyway, one day he and his friend saw a beautiful woman walking down the street, and his friend said, “I would do anything to make love to that woman.” But he said it too loud.
So, the women turns around and says, “What did you say?”
So my barber says, “He said you are beautiful and he would do anything to make love to you.”
They thought she was going to slap one of them. But she said, “I look for a man who is handsome, who has money, and who has size.”
My barber knows his friend has a lot of money, so he says, “Well, you can see that he’s handsome, and I can tell you he has plenty of money, but I can’t vouch for the size.”
The lady asks the friend how much it’s worth to him to make love to her. And he doesn’t know what to say, so he asks what it would take.
“Ten thousand lira”, she says.
Well 10,000 lira was a lot more than 10 cents at the time, but the friend agreed to the price.
So, a few hours later the friend comes back quite pleased with himself and raving about his experience.
My barber is annoyed. And he insists that they must now go to the whorehouse so he can have his needs met.
So, they go to the whorehouse, and it turns out that when he goes to his room…he has gotten…the same girl. Only he only has to pay 10 cents.
Needless to say, his friend never heard the end of it. “You coulda been wit her a hundred times…ha ha ha.”
This is what it’s like to get a haircut in South Philly.