This is a new feature, or something to that effect. I have a full post but I won't quite be in shape to write it until tomorrow. Right now, you get this.

Dear lead-singer-of-the-opening-band-at-the-Firehouse,

You were really quite good, and I don't say that freely. A good compliment of rock and country. The lead guitarist was quite good. Alas, I'm not here to talk to him. I'm here to talk to you. Or type, as it were.

All evidence suggests that you are a pretty young guy. Younger than me, I'd suspect. As such, we gotta talk. I admire your enthusiasm and you dressing and acting the part of a rocker. There's only one problem, and I think you know what it is. At least, I hope so. Maybe you don't, in which case we definitely gotta talk.

If you're younger than me, I admit that it's totally unfair. I mean, completely. Genetics is the cruelest science. Nonetheless, you need to face the genetics you're up against. Long hair can make you look like a rocker, to a point. Unfortunately, it also had certain side-effects when you're body is conspiring against you as I fear yours is. No matter how long you grow your hair out, if I can see the reflection of the lights in your balding scalp, it just doesn't look right. The longer the hair, the more right it doesn't look. You may think we didn't notice but, dude, really, we have eyes. I hear shaved heads are all the rage and I suggest you look into that. Maybe Rogain, which I head is quite effective. Charlie Robison even mentions it in a song. No one will know!

Sincerely,
The Author of The Blog You Don't Read