Sing Goddess, of my accursed and rather pathetic wrath

The Third World War broke out in my living room today. Apparently the cause of all the world's miseries, wars, conflict situations, oppressive and totalitarian regimes, inequalities can be attributed to the condition of my hair. Yes, Ladies and Germs, my devil-may-care, unbrushed (although frequently shampooed) hairstyle has been a major pillar of support for Saddam Hussain, George Bush, Halliburton and all other evil (or vaguely evil) regimes.

At least this is what my parents claim. My father insinuated that my hair was the main reason why I left my last job. When I tried to suggest that there were other, far more pertinent reasons; he seemed to imply that my hair was the root of all the world's evils. Outraged, I flung a book at him (Richard Dawkin's The God Delusion - not the most compelling read). My wrath threatened to exceed the epic proportions of even the Illustrious Achilles (recorded dutifully by Homer in the Illiad - "Sing Goddess of the Accursed Wrath of Achilles), and prompt yet another Trojan War (fortunately there are no more Trojans nor any Helens, there are only Turks today). I stampeded out the room into my father's study, where I promptly hurled more books and performed unimaginable, deranged acts of violence on a poor, innocent ashtray.

O poor Ashtray, victim of my rage! O poor innocent hair, unjustly blamed for the world's many problems!

My hair is blameless. My rational analysis of this situation suggests that this a conflict not about hair, but about value systems. My parents secretly want me to be a smart, well-groomed hi-flying corporate executive type, donned in murderously expensive Gucci clothes, driving an hideously pricey car (preferably a porshe). Unfortunately, I have other aims in life that include renouncing the world, becoming a cynic-like Ascetic, wandering in the wilderness.

Alack! Alas!