In celebration of this past week in MC1R recessive genes – during which Ireland chose marriage equality via popular vote and Scotland reaffirmed creationism does not belong in science classrooms – I present my ode to the redheads of this world. It was written years ago for a drunk character in an autobiographical screenplay, but remains just as strong and true to this day. (And for the record, redheaded women are equally great.)
A Taste For Ginger
Fire-engine, orange, straw, or deep rust
No proverbial stepchild; In Red-Heads I Trust.
You may be just 2-ish percent of the people,
But sans you our lives would be – dare I say? Feeble.
Vivaldi, Van Gogh, William Blake, Joyce, and Byron
Plus one William Shakespeare – all hair like a siren.
Mark Twain, D.H. Lawrence, and George Bernard Shaw:
All pale and be-freckled when seen in the raw.
In music, there’s Garfunkel, Morrison, Nelson,
Axyl Rose, Johnny Rotten (they can’t all be handsome).
The wisdom of Churchill, the guts of John Glenn,
Oh where would we be without red-headed men?
With no Chris Columbus the earth would be flat,
Nor ever would move – Galileo found that.
Both Richard the Lion and Eric the Red
Had fiery carpets to match their bright heads.
And then there’s the classics, like Archie and Opie,
Beaker and Clifford, and boys christened Weasley.
With actors and athletes we’d be here all night,
From Redford to Tracy to snow-god Shaun White.
The POINT is: brunettes, blondes, albinos – don’t linger.
I for one will hold out for the sweet taste of ginger.