THE HERITAGE POLE

Dahling, a barbershop is the last honest institution in America — more confessional than any church, more political than any pulpit — and it has earned the right to say plainly where its clippers learned their rhythm. This adhesive says it: the continent, mounted like the pole itself, spinning slow and unbothered.

Affix it by the chair where every conversation that matters actually happens.

What ships is high-resolution; what you see now has been blurred deliberately, because I execrate a thief nearly as much as I execrate an uneven fade.

— P.S.C.