The historic and unprecedented second impeachment trial of Donald Trump is underway in Washington D.C., It’s a fun time for all involved, but a confusing time for Senator Ted Cruz, an oily hog man who is also made of biscuit dough and evil, because whatever’s happening atop his smeary little head is confusing.
At first glance, the haircut, which is tight to the sides and fluffy down the middle like a raccoon tail or a Davy Crockett cap, looks like it might be an undercut. Imagining Ted Cruz walking into a barbershop (?) or a Supercuts and asking for the person in question take it down to a 1 on the sides but to leave the top flowing free, like a horsetail or the pelt of a recently deceased opossum, is humorous if only for a moment, because the end result is so befuddling and also, I’m sorry, fucking hideous.
Here’s a closer look at the side of the hair, so that we might better assess the architecture of this nightmare.
What I’m seeing here is that if there were no product (is it Crisco? Sweat? Nose sebum?) in his hair, he’d be working with a near-shag? Like when you get a pixie cut because you hate your hair and are feeling poorly, but then decide once you get the pixie cut that you never want to have hair that short again, so you have to grow it out for at least a year, and there’s a period of time before you can pull your shit back into a little paintbrush pony where your hair is just... there. That’s what’s happening to Ted Cruz’s hair right now. It’s just there. Instead of letting it just be there, though, Cruz is pulling some sort of revised Don Jr., Madison Avenue evil executive realness, but no one told him that in order for that “look” to actually “work,” you have to slick back ALL OF THE HAIR and not just the sides.
I could never endorse an undercut for anyone, only because growing out the undercut seems like a huge pain in the ass, but in this case, I think Cruz would be better off if he just shaved the sides completely? Alternately, he’s about two weeks out from being able to execute a Founding Fathers-ass low pony, of the sort worn by Samuel Adams on the label of his eponymous beer. I don’t love that for him either, but right now he looks like a dumpster-diving Bushwick zine impresario circa 2012 from the neck up, and I cannot handle the cognitive dissonance of that aesthetic plopped atop the thick neck of a demon. For shame, Ted. For shame.