Rise and Fall of the Russian Mullet

Greek in origin, reprised in the backwoods of Texarkana – the mullet is one of history’s most ridiculous haircuts; a haircut that penetrated the heart of Mother Russia in the early 90’s, sputtered out, lain dormant until one Moscovite’s solo-revival.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Roam About Productions is proud to present the harrowing tale of a man’s downward spiral into ludicrousness, homelessness, and ‘party-in-the-back’ permanence; I give you, ‘The Mulletsky’.

I’m a little tea pot short and stout, here is my mullet, here is my spout.

Yuric Spitalsky grew up in a small, rural province just east of Moscow called – Yitittyitskow- which means ‘milk of the house cat’. Yuric’s childhood was that of any Russian boy; working 3rd shift at the factory, smoking, and playing pretend video games.

His favorite TVs shows, picked up via the massive electrical towers by his house, were ‘Full House’ and ‘MacGuyver’, and even without the pictures below, you can get a general sense of where this piece is going (aside from nowhere).

I can open doors with my gaze.

Have mercy.

His favorite sports figures were Jaromir Jagr, Bernie Kosar, and Jose Canseco. Or, as his alcoholic father called them: Larry, Jeri-Curly, and Fro.

Mullet count so far: 7

Yuric lived in the dark shadow of his older brother Stash (pronounced: S- tahsh) who was very, very handsome. So handsome in fact, he competed in many national man-beauty contests, winning all of them. He won ribbons, rubles, trophies, and the affections of a nation – especially those of the Spitalsky family.

So much did Mother Russia love Yuric, every young male began cutting their skull fur into a Mulletsky.

After a particularly big man-beauty pageant victory, when Stash won hundreds of rubles, and a modeling contract for ‘Toil Weekly’ Magazine, the family started referring to Yuric as ‘Not Stash’.

One day, while working the fields, Stash’s victory sash (pictured above) got caught in the till of a tractor, catching his precious quaff, and dragging him into the teeth of the gears. The tractor unexplainably burst into flames, exploded, and sent a fireball so high above the Earth, it was seen from space by NASA, almost rekindling (ahem) the Cold War.

Stash didn’t die, was oddly unscathed, but the fire rid him of his beautiful body hair, and from then on he resembled Powder, from the movie ‘Powder’.

The family was devastated – the nation mourned. Stash plunged into a wicked depression, rarely speaking, staring at the walls for days, and generally just creeping everyone the fuck out. Mullets were cut – a sort of flags at half-mast thing, but with hair.

Yuric, always the slow learner, perhaps due to living so close to the electrical towers, viewed this as his opportunity to become the Spitalsky trophy child, beginning to grow his hair as a mullet.

Shunned by his family – his mousy mulletsky was nothing compared to his big brother’s demigod-esque mane. In public, Mother Spitalsky refused to hold Yuric’s hand, praying for a random act of child abduction.

Yuric – Mommy, hold my hand. Mommy – Nyet

Yuric grew up fast, and lonely. He retained his whisp of a mullet against the opposition of his family. He had a friend, for a day:

Friend “Yuric, my very new friend, why do you wear your hair so strangely?”

Yuric – ” Tis not the hair of the nation?”

Friend – “No, that hairstyle went out years ago. The point being, your mulletsky is….subpar. And why are you wearing a purse?”

Yuric – “My hair suffices as subpar, if by subpar you mean awesome. Tis not a purse, tis a..well, yes, it’s a purse….Wait! why are you running away, only friend?”

Man purse

Yuric roiled internally. His family kicked him out of the house, he lost his only friend. He spent his free time roaming the Kremlin in Moscow, taking self portraits for his pretend profile on Russian Myspace.

Say, “Government Cheese”

Yuric hitched a ride to Saint Petersburg, and became a tour guide. He soon quit after receiving the “Employee most likely to molest” award for September.

Maps to the Tsars

Present Day (1o years later)

Yuric spiraled into the lonely world of the mullahawk – a depression induced mutation of his former do – a red dyed mullet/mohawk combo. Red being the color of his collective embarrassments, anger. Lacking the ability to grow facial hair, unlike his brother Stash, Yuric had to buy an upper-lip wig fashioned to that of a mustache.

The picture below was taken just before Yuric was pummeled to death by the woman in the powdered wig, attempting to abduct her via ‘boat trip’, which is actually the white van they’re standing in front up.

boat trips…of death

Like most Russian stories, this was one of tragedy, sadness, yet, slightly dark and humorous, BUT, if the moral saves one Russian or American or Papua New Guinean, or any nationality from leaving a follicle cascade in the back whilst rocking a shorn front, then my humanitarian duties for the year have been met. Don’t drink and mullet. – Mike

Total mullet Count: 13

29 comments on “Rise and Fall of the Russian Mullet”

Bright Light Warrior Nika says:

July 27, 2012 at 9:00 AM

LMBO!!! What a funny read for the morning!

Mike Bukach

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