If I had my way, the subject of an 18-month study by the RAND Corporation, women's hair would always be blown back.

Who knows what it is about follicles in flurry, do's in disarray, that makes women so irresistible. I think it's just people of all genders, from male to female and variations like Adam Lambert, like to see natural forces acting on women. But it's clear we as a society need to fully bring out women's beauty.

By redirecting American Recovery and Reinvestment Act funds, which aren't doing anything that can't wait, municipalities could install high-powered fans on telephone polls, street lamps and other infrastructure at face level. Of course they can't be blowing all the time, to save energy and since men look their best when their faces aren't clearly visible. This will also require pouring more money into R&D currently under way at the It's Pat Institute to visually distinguish men from women, scanning their facial features and distribution of cellulite, and using high-powered radiation blasts to identify the homogametic sex. Traffic-light and surveillance cameras already on the street can thus finally have a moral purpose.

But that's going to take a while to become operational, especially if a rider for the perverted arts is attached during floor debate. That means we must rely on human blowing for now. When you see a woman approaching, walk within a foot or so and blow into her face. This will require a massive public-service announcement campaign from the Ad Council and breath-freshener industry to protect women from bad smells, and the addition of parching chemicals to fresheners so spittle doesn't fly out. Dove sponsorship of a "Blew Beauty" campaign will get women on board, and body-spray maker Axe's entry into fresheners will ensure men take up the cause.

Little brothers of the nation, get to work.

The Mussed look had its day. And I think that day is now over. And even if it's not over for those kids who are currently being weaned on Jonas Brothers firehose spray ejaculations, surely it's over for thirty-somethings. Isn't it time you stopped pretending to be 24 and too damned cool for the world? Isn't it time you actually took the time to present a look that doesn't say, "I made it this far, you should be proud I put in the effort to even come"?

We suppose there are merits to the mussed look--it gives you a certain slackness that renders as unaffected when viewed through the lens of teenage uncertainty. But aren't you supposed to have most of life figured out by now? We think the rule should be, if you have a mortgage, you can't do the bed head look anymore. Or if you work at any financial institution. Or if you have kids.

Deliberate Bed Head is about as stunningly original as a tube of toothpaste, and even less meaningful. Now, I know what you're thinking. It's not just the look. It's an entire indie culture projected onto fashion and style and food, and the bed head look is predicated upon a preconceived notions of what is cool. It's thumbing the establishment and square fascism of corporate tooldom!

Except that every corporate stooge, from exec to unpaid intern, is sporting the look. So what does that make you, Mr. Indie Fare? You're not supporting the revolution just because you buy a bottle of TGI Catwalk and stick your legs in a pair of skinny jeans.

You may think mussing your hair gives you authority to speak with passion about things like Darfur, climate change, and the latest Apple Orgasmo that you can stick in your embroidered jean pocket, but isn't it more accurate to say that adjusting your hair so it looks unadjusted is the paramount of hypocrisy? You might think you have a mind of your own with that f**king independent look, but marketing execs have you pegged, my shallow friend, and you're the first person they line up against the wall to shoot when the real revolution comes.

Combing your hair might just be the craziest, most daring thing you do all day. You might give it a try, and see the world through a pair of adult eyes. Keep your youth. Don't hold on to your malignant hair style. I suggest you do what Colonel Zaroff does in "The Most Dangerous Game." Let the bed head out into the jungle. Then hunt it, shoot it, and stuff it for future visitors to see what a man you really are.