Today Dawn stepped out of the shower and got stabbed in her heel by one of my hairs.
My hairs have jabbed me underneath my fingernails (this is more or less a regular occurrence when I take the clippers to my head), but that's not nearly as impressive as penetrating heel skin.
My hair is a weapon. I've got like Superman hair.
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If I have exhausted the justifications I have reached bedrock, and my spade is turned. Then I am inclined to say: "This is simply what I do."
(Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, remark 217)
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