Things I Will Never Get to Say to Kurt Russell

There's a way your hair falls on the back of your head, a way that fits the narrow space between too redneck and non enough rock&roll. It's the kind of haircut a man would find at the best point in his life; the kind of style that always seems to be positively reflected. An experienced actor such as yourself has surely seen the films of Ingmar Bergman. You haven't? Neither have I. There's something about storytelling for the sake of itself. Protesters will weave together in the streets just to brush picket signs against each other and yell in a glorious way that only large crowds can produce. These crowds are screaming for people like you and me, Mr. Russell. And we will shoot tear-gas from comically sized cannons and shout cowboy words into the air, the waves of angry young folks will dissolve and grow families to cope with a lack of passion. The hoopin' and hollerin' will be slowly silenced; We will laugh to crush our egos so we can fit in. But with a haircut like that, I could never compete.