I visited my barber on Friday.

The foggy mirror in my bathroom made it clear to me that it was beyond time to get my hair and beard back under control.

As usual, my favorite barber (the only one I trust with my full beard) threatened to charge me double, as he does each time I put off the visit until fear of being mistaken as the Wild Man of Borneo forces my hand.

Also as usual, I arrived to find three other guys "of a certain age" waiting ahead of me. Since I always enjoy an opportunity to avoid work, I took my seat anyhow, ready for the usual grumpy old men conversations.

Unlike the usual, however, the mildly obscene banter in the shop seemed different this time. Trump's name came up, but not in defense of some stupid thing he said. Instead, the topics of conversation were about high health insurance costs for those old farts' children and grandchildren. North Korea came up, as well, and comments were not complimentary where Trump was concerned. One white-haired guy mentioned his military service in Korea in the 50s, and called Donald Trump an obscene name.

In fact, unlike any other time I've sat waiting for my haircut, not a single word of defense for the Dotard in Chief was heard from anyone in the place, although the usual mild insults tossed around the room were the same as usual.

Anyhow, I'm back to my sometimes resemblance of an older, bearded college professor again. That's OK. My hair and beard will grow back to a more typical representation of my actual curmudgeonly self soon enough.