Having been familiar with your work since your early performance in A Walk to Remember, and more recently in a supporting role on Sundance’s heartbreaking Rectify, it’s safe to say that I was quite shocked by your current appearance on Fox’s Lethal Weapon. It was like gazing upon a baby deer as it took its first steps, but in a really powerful manly way. You know?
Seeing how you’ve matured and grown was not just breathtaking but reassuring, like maybe there’s hope for the rest of the hair on TV. Maybe one day I won’t throw my remote and scream toward the heavens when an actor suddenly decides to spend the barber money on yet more cheap whiskey. You’re living proof it can be done. And be done well.
I can still remember the first time I saw the Southern California sun hit you just right; I was blinded by your bouncing beauty and the way you casually fell across that forehead after a chase. Even though, like Aaron Samuel’s hair, you look really sexy pushed back, your unruliness only adds to the overall mystique. Because even in times of crisis, your blessed waves — much like the man you sit atop — never waver. In fact, the more dangerous the situation, the better you look. How do you do it?
If this were medieval Europe, minstrels would create songs telling of your legendary status in the line of duty. And they would be — strangely enough — to the tune of Don Henley’s “The Boys of Summer,” à la:
“I thought I knew what good hair was. What did I know? Those days are gone forever, I just can’t let you go. I can see you, your beautiful waves shining in the sun. He’s got that top pulled down and that radio on, baby. And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong, after the boys of Lethal Weapon are long gone.”
However, if I’m being honest, I fear that if I dare to stare at you for too long, your innate magic will be revealed to have all been an illusion.
I also fear that I’ve become enchanted by the same witch (goddess?) who apparently conjured you from the darkness of hairgatory and crowned you the king of the coifs. Because I know that I should hate your next door neighbor — that stupid mustache — and yet I do not.
Tell me, what secrets are you hiding?