Follicular Confessions

Jeff Bezos' hair spills secrets

Photo by Chris X Carroll, Copyright 1994. Got moldy in my basement flood.

Cue Salon

Jeff Bezos' Hair back in the building! Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking – "Where the hell have you been?" Listen, when your former landlord starts making headlines for all the wrong reasons, sometimes a follicle's gotta lay low, you know?

While Jeff's been out there living his best billionaire life with his new missus and her Victoria's Secret pedigree, I've been doing some serious soul-searching. Well, as much soul-searching as disembodied hair can do. Spoiler alert: I wasn't invited to the wedding festivities. Shocking, I know.

The Glory Days (RIP)

Cast your minds back to the ancient times – the '90s, when flannel ruled and the internet was still figuring itself out. Those were my days to shine. Sure, I wasn't winning any Pantene commercial auditions, but I had presence. I had coverage. I had strategic distribution.

Check out those old Amazon founder photos if you don't believe me. Was I a magnificent mane? Absolutely not. But I was holding down the fort, keeping that dome respectable while Jeff pitched his "books on the internet" scheme to anyone who'd listen.

And let's be real – image matters in business. You think Sand Hill Road venture capitalists were going to hand over millions to a chrome-domed nobody? Please. Ladies wanted to talk literature, and guess what? Ladies dig hair. Basic economics, people.

The MacKenzie Years: Peak Performance

My finest hour? Getting Jeff hitched to MacKenzie Tuttle. That woman was pure class, and frankly, way too good for both of us. But hey, I was still doing my job back then, providing enough aesthetic cover for Jeff to land the catch of the century.

We had a good run, the three of us. Jeff building his empire, MacKenzie writing actual literature, and me just trying to stay put against increasingly hostile scalp conditions. I made it to the millennium, which honestly felt like a victory lap.

But then Jeff started getting ideas. The whole "I'm losing my hair anyway, might as well embrace the supervillain aesthetic" thing. So around 2000, I decided to make my exit. Graceful? Debatable. Strategic? Absolutely.

Current Events: A Spectator Sport

Fast forward to recent times, and oh boy, has Jeff been living it up. Private jets, yacht parties, that whole Venice situation that had the internet buzzing. Notice who was conspicuously absent from those paparazzi shots? This guy.

While Jeff's been gallivanting around the Mediterranean with his new bride, I've been keeping much better company. MacKenzie's still got taste, still got dignity, and frankly, still got better friends than whatever scene Jeff's running with these days.

Final Thoughts from the Follicle Gallery

Look, I don't have any regrets about jumping ship when I did. Sure, I could've stuck around for the full billionaire transformation, but some things are more important than money. Like self-respect. And good company.

Jeff's got his rockets, his newspapers, his helicopter-flying wife, and all the money in the world. But he's also got that shiny dome reflecting every camera flash, reminding everyone of what he lost along the way.

Me? I'm living my best post-scalp life, hanging with the cool kids and watching this whole circus from a safe distance. MacKenzie Scott is coming over for dinner. As soon as Stevie Nicks gets here we’re going to do the ouija board to decide where to donate her next billion dollars. Something tells me it won’t involve bald billionaires but will be lefty AF, just the way I like it.

Stay follicular, friends.