Call me crazy, but I fail to understand is how anyone could ever have come to the conclusion that sachairdoctor.com is a good domain name for a hair transplant practice.
I spotted the domain name on a giant billboard while driving I-80 on my way from Sacramento to San Jose. The first thing I thought was “who is worried about transplanting hair down there?” There isn’t much you can do cosmetically to redeem that whole look anyway and it seems to me like kind of a lost cause. Perhaps some wrinkle reducing foundation creme would make a dent in the problem, but more hair? Really? Or maybe if you put enough hair there, it would eventually look like a Koala clinging to a tree trunk. Maybe that’s a thing environmentalists dig in their male partners here in California and I just haven’t heard about it. I’ve lived a somewhat sheltered life, after all.
Then I got to thinking that you don’t go from zero to surgery in under 60 seconds. If there are guys getting hair transplant surgery for the twins, then surely there are even more guys sporting rugs down there. It would, after all, only be prudent to try out the new look before allowing sharp objects anywhere near the area. That of course means there’s a store somewhere and a sales clerk.
“Can I help you sir?”
“Yes, I’m looking for something in a man-rug.”
“A what, sir?”
“You know, a fig wig. A huevos weave. A cojones cover.”
“Oh, you want a testicle toupee. Why didn’t you say so? Right this way. We have several styles. Is this for everyday use or a special occasion? I’ll need you to drop your pants and cough.”
Which got me to thinking about the procedure itself. Surely there is anesthetic involved. Only in this case, just before it is delivered, it is the patient who is expected to say “OK, you are going to feel a little prick.”
And how do you even know you need this procedure? Does the hair recede from front to back? Back to front? Or does that little bald spot show up in the middle and then grow outward? Are you expected to discover this yourself, or does your partner tell you about it? And, if it is the latter, does that happen “in the heat of the moment” when they are confronted with the bare truth of the situation? Or is that discussion postponed out of a sense of diplomacy until later? How does one even broach the subject? Over a dinner of meatballs and curly fries?
Then I started to wonder if they were transplanting in the other direction. But that seems kind of limited. After all, it only works if you already have naturally curly head hair. I mean REALLY curly head hair. Waiting for Andy Samburg to go bald so you can graft his nads onto his head doesn’t seem like a good business plan to me. But it does seem like a movie he’d do so Andy, if you’re reading this, call me.
This thought also puts a whole new spin on that “gee, your hair smells terrific” shampoo ad campaign. There would have been a lot more to write here except that I nearly swerved off the highway when this thought occurred to me. “Gee, your hair smells like… like… SERIOUSLY? WTF?”
When I regained control of the car I got to thinking about the shrinkage that occurs after swimming in cold water and how you might be able to tell at your next pool party who’s had this surgery. Forget to run the pool heater for a few days beforehand and the post-surgical guys come out with mouths agape, eyes wide open and eyebrows so high they threaten air traffic. Then they’d tell each other the most amazing trivia until their heads relaxed and the look of permanent incredulity began to subside.
At this point I gave up, pulled over, raised the hood and tried to look like I was incredibly amused at being stranded. No sense endangering innocent motorists. I began to wonder how the operation was first conceived. Perhaps an ambitious doctor was attempting to consolidate the male thinking centers. Or maybe it was an attempt to improve cranial heat dissipation. Or some lonely guy talked the doctor into trying it out. “Look here Doc, if I don’t get some hair up top soon, there won’t be anyone to notice the hair on the bottom. Do the transplant and if it’s a problem that I’m bald down there, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.” This line of thought continued for half an hour before I finally regained my composure sufficiently for driving. Eventually I climbed back in the car and tried not to think about sachairdoctor.com any more.
After a few miles I started to notice other signs like “SAC Automotive” and only then did I realize the locals obviously know this refers to their beloved town. And even then I had to wonder… why? SAC HVAC, sure. SAC Pharmaceuticals would work. You might even get away with SAC Sporting Goods. But for the love of all that is decent, if you absolutely feel that you must register the name sachairdoctor.com, please do NOT post it on a giant billboard along a major highway.
Unless of course you actually do turn plums into peaches, in which case go for it.