My Barber the Sphinx

Looking in the mirror earlier today, I finally realized just how shaggy I'm getting. I mean, I could fit right in with those great unwashed currently occupying Wall Street. I need to get a haircut.

Here's the problem.

My town has only one barber, and, wouldn't you know it, he cuts the hair of every man who doesn't cut his own hair. I'm at the point of pulling my own hair out, because, as every single person in my town has to ask, "Does the barber shave himself?" Sphinxlike, no one gets a haircut unless he answers the question and defends the reasoning behind it.

Guess I'll just drive the two miles over to Shelbyville to get shorn.