When I was about two years old, that age when the universe existed to meet my wants, my father took me to his barber to get my shoulder length hair cut. Screaming,yelling and flailing about around sharp objects continued until Jerry the barber gave up and I went home intact.
I'm beginning to understand how the Kumbayamas feel and why the've been acting the way they have lately and by reaching back into my subconcious memory I can feel their pain and understand their reaction.
All of the powers in my universe were arrayed against me in the barbershop that day in a justifiable effort. Both of them had haircuts.
Barry and his dependants face the citizenry and business ( essentially anybody not employed by or dependant on government) who have already had serious haircuts.
They hope my approach works for them - if you try to give me a haircut we'll both get hurt and it will be your fault.
It's really not fair to say that they are like terrible twos.
Demanding ice cream and a later bedtime while fighting off the haircut is more advanced.
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