Better red than dead

Every week I struggle to find a subject to write about, hoping something will pop into my lap. This week, luckily for me, but maybe not for you, the world’s largest sperm bank quit taking donations from men with red hair.

Apparently 70 liters was quite enough, for redheaded children are not presently considered fashionable. This is not the first time in history redheads have taken a hit below the belt.

Redheads have had more ups and downs than the Goodyear blimp, being alternately feared and revered, loathed and adored, degraded and exalted. For a trait that only appears in about 2 percent of the human population, red hair has always inspired powerful emotions.

During the Spanish Inquisition, flame colored hair was taken as proof that the witch had stolen the fire of hell, so many women were burned at the stake for the simple crime of being redheaded. In Corsica, if you pass a redhead on the street you are to spit and turn around. In Greek mythology, redheads turn into vampires when they die.

Aristotle, famous Greek philosopher and pompous pain in the rump, believed that redheads were “emotionally unhousebroken”. I’m not sure what it means so I can’t agree or disagree with it, but it does have a ring to it I like.

Adolph Hitler reportedly banned the marriage of two redheads as he feared their children would be “deviant offspring.” Funny, I would have thought he wanted more of those, not less.

On the other hand, numerous cultures have traditionally seen red hair as evidence of high ranking ancestors, and a mark desired in their rulers. In Denmark it is an honor to have a redheaded child. Being different is not always seen as a bad thing.

There is no denying the genetic difference of redheads however. It is a medical fact that redheads are harder to sedate than others, requiring 20 percent more anesthesia. They are also more prone to industrial deafness, hopefully not due to all the redheaded remarks and jokes they have to listen to.

It is said that in the late 16th century, the fat of a redheaded man was an essential ingredient in making the perfect poison. I could find no reference to how many fat red haired men may have been rendered down for poison, but the thought makes me a little queasy. Make mine cyanide please.

Bees are thought to sting redheads more than others, and it is not believed to be because they are sweeter than honey. Perhaps their pale skin is irresistible, or maybe more of them are on the boisterous side.  

 Scotland has a bigger percentage of redheads than anywhere else, 13 percent. Ireland is second with 10 percent, and the United States has about the international average of 2 percent, giving us more redheads than any other country. I don’t know if the famous Irish temper is influenced by all the red hair, but redheads are rumored to have a worse temper than blonds and brunettes.

Other traits are also associated with redheads, some believable and some, not so much. In Germany it is a common belief that redheaded women are three times as lustful as other women. All I can say is, applications for research opportunities must be miles long. They may even be as long as the lineup of potential suitors of available redheads.

Redheads are also blamed for being unreasonable, sharp tongued, mischievous, and downright troublesome, among many other things. I always thought those were just basic human traits, for they are more common than they should be everywhere, regardless of hair color.

The most common color of hair dye for women is red, or some tint of it. This is no doubt because of the rumor that so many men are attracted to redheads. Whether the dye girls will admit it or not, it is the truth. Attracting attention is most commonly associated with appealing to the opposite sex.

It is also true that natural redheads tend to look down on artificially colored red hair, and I heard this from a true redhead. If it is a friend of theirs, it is all ducky, don’t you know. In public anyway.

It is also a fact that my wife Joy has made the decision to have red highlights put in her hair, which she decided long before my voyage into redland. She is already practicing her stereotypical redheaded collection of verbal barbs and fiery temper tantrums.

Woe is me.