Yielding to uxorial importuning, I betook myself to the barbershop this morning. My yielding was not, I insist, uxorious, although it was, perhaps, prudentially. Readers who do not know the subtle difference between uxorial and uxorious are advised, with their wife’s permission, to consult a dictionary.
As barbershops no longer supply waiting patrons with virile (if outdated) magazines, and as I have myself regressed from flip-phone to no-phone, I nowadays depart for the barbershop with some reading material in my trouser pocket. That it fit in my trouser pocket is the principal criterion. Continue reading