Can You Get a Good Haircut in the Zombie Apocalypse?

Daryl Dixon: Crossbow master. Style disaster.

 

After the endless wait, our beloved Walking Dead season 5 premier is finally here this week. With all that is hanging in the balance, why is it that all I can think about is the redneck elephant in the room? You know the one. Heart-throb or not, our favorite bad boy needs some serious salon time. 

Oh Daryl Dixon, our tortured-soul-crossbow wielding redneck with a heart, how the women want to hug you and every man wants you on their doomsday team. You are all biceps and grit in your muscle t shirts and leather vests. But on a scale of swamp donkey to Metrosexual glamour-puss you are starting to resemble that emo kid who’s eyes we never saw for the entire 4 years of high school.

Hi, my name is Daryl Dixon, and when I’m not killing what’s already dead, I front a emo/country cover band named Fake Shelton and the Cutters.

So, what I’m really trying to say here is:

Dude, get a haircut. Please make like a good little doomsday prepper and raid a house for a pair of scrap booking scissors and gel for your bug out bag and for the love of Cyclops, CUT THOSE BANGS!

Now before you all my female followers start hitting the un-follow button with fervent hatred, let me say this: I love Daryl, he is a great character that was created for the TV show. And as a WD comic fan, I get the pleasure of enjoying his story without already knowing the details of his death, (unlike Dale and his very unfortunate comic demise that still haunts my dreams). He brings so much to the story, and after Michonne, he is probably my favorite character. Daryl brings some human catharsis to a show who’s real stars are decomposing meat bags. Daryl can save the day as well as break down in a moment of weakness. However, I think we can all admit that he is an ugly crier amirite ladies?

DD, you’re breakin’ my heart here and all…but there’s no crying in the apocalypse!

Daryl is the full package, but that hair? I am going to give that a grade of a big fat N for nope. First of all, how can anyone fight off a pack of decomposing assailants while peering out from under that floppy lock of sorrow? I can hardly walk in a straight line when my bangs have grown past eyebrow length, so how is it he can save Beth from her stupid song-singing self in the apocalypse with one eye covered in sweaty tendrals? His heart may be saying no to thugging with a band of bandits, but his hair says “I’m capable of dueling to the death over a rotten sleeping bag and a decomposed rat.”

I see dead people (but only the ones to my left)

Maybe take a lesson from your redneck jimmy-rigg pirate armed brother Merle who didn’t have the a soul or beyond an 4th grade education, but was still smart enough to keep it safe with a military cut! Merle did have pretty good peripheral vision though, so you gotta give him that. So let’s just slow down the end of times shag and ask Carol for a nice clean close shave. You are going to need it if you are ever going to get that coveted love triangle story line where you have to chose between Carol’s bad-Assery or Beth’s sappy lullabies.

It’s okay, I still love you. Maybe a just little more Boondocks and a little less ready-for-my-Goo-Goo-Dolls-audition, alright?

 

now, admit it…doesn’t that feel better?