I stole that headline from a column Mike Barnicle wrote for the Boston Globe in the 1980's. I don't feel guilty about stealing it since Barnicle himself was eventually fired for stealing a bunch of stuff for his columns. I spent some time with a local politician yesterday who is as famous for his bad hairpiece as he is for his legislative bombast. The thing on his head resembles the dead squirrel I found on my front step over the weekend. Of course, the king of local pols with a bad piece is former Providence Mayor Buddy Cianci. I once got a peek at one of his toupees as it rested at a local salon for a tuneup. Turns out he had a few of them and they were rotated in and out of the salon for occasional fine-tuning. Cianci is now in a federal pen for extortion and some other assorted misdoings. I imagine his hairpieces are just sitting there waiting for him, like a space shuttle looking to hook up with a connecting station on the moon. I'm 37 and my hair is shaved really short. I would never wear a piece but I like to work my way through the scenario that would unfold if I did. In one day, I would go from no hair to a coiffure that would make Stone Phillips jealous. What would people say? "Is there something different about Brett?" No, what they would say is "Holy Guacamole, did you see that thing?" How do you prepare people for the shock, the jolt, of a new you, one with a thick mat of hair so ambitious, so towering, that everyone who comes in contact with it is stunned into silence? The only way it could ever work is if you move somewhere where noone knows you. Then, at least some people might be fooled. "Quite the head of hair on the new guy, huh?" I'm not going to do that. But if one day, you suddenly find I've moved out-of-state with no notice, don't come looking for me. And if you do, just look for the guy with hair like John Edwards.