Groom What?                                                     Observation 387 words

Copyright Dec 2022

Howard R Music




I remember as a kid watching commercials pushing shaving products.  The men featured were the rugged type: broad shoulders draped with a towel while lathering up their square jaws with Burma Shave Cream in front of a mirror using the latest safety razor, or sometimes dry shaving with an electric model.  The announcers would over-dub with assurances of smooth shaves with no nicks.

The women were nubile, often clad in a bathrobe, or better yet, a towel, that you just knew was going to accidently fall to the floor any second, while flashing perfect teeth as a dainty hand pulled a razor down a smooth, luscious leg.  The erotica was subtle but definitely there.

Times have changed.  The catch phrase for modern shaving is “Get Your Groom On,” but should be titled, “How to Shear a Wookie.”  They still show the cutting or trimming of beards, but now have added models who resemble Big Foot shaving their wooly bellies and backs or shoving a miniscule trimmer up their noses.  Worse, they have one Yeti impersonator talking about shaving his down-under-dangly-parts.

If you want to shave your jewels, have at it.  But why tell me?  There are some things I don’t want to know about, and definitely don’t want to picture in my head.

There is a popular Christmas commercial that at first, I didn’t get, which is not unusual for me.  A lot of modern advertisement goes right over my head, for which I am grateful.  It goes like this: a young guy comes into the living room on Christmas morning and his beaming mother shows him his gifts, one of which, is a modern “Groomer” kit.  The guy seems happy until he notices the “lawn mower” (which I assume is the main battery powered razor) is gone, and that the open box is sprinkled with cuttings of white hair.  The camera pans to a trail of white hair leading to the chimney.  The guy yelps in disgust and throws the box down.

The dropping of the box is the part I didn’t get.  Then it finally dawned on me: he pictured Santa with his red pants down using the guy’s razor to groom his ornaments.

Try getting that image out of your mind.

I’ve got to stop watching television.




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