Sing a song of redheads

“So you – my friend – are going away -- for a very long time. Remember – we never – ever – sleep!”

This is stated to the apprehended sleazy Colombian crime-lord and is punctuated with the mandatory removal of the sunglasses by the utterer. It all takes place right out there in the steamy and torrid Miami sun, with all those stunningly pretty art deco buildings in the background and the azure sea beyond. The world is a little bit safer because Horatio Caine has bagged big game.

Yes, excruciatingly mannered Horatio Caine – is this a Biblical metaphor, you know, considering that Horatio has a missing/dead brother? – as played by the inimitable David Caruso on CSI Miami.

My brother is one of the nine people who watches CSI New York, mainly because he detests the ‘excruciatingly mannered David Caruso.’ I don’t. It’s the mannerisms and the voice that so rarely rises in cadence that make it work for me. This is a cop I could trust.

We both agree that the original CSI, the Vegas version, as delectable as ‘Catherine’ might be, grows old and tiresome, and Grissom is a pompous pain-in-the-ass. Nerd triumphant, as it were.

However, the reason for this treatise is not to extol the virtues of David Caruso, but to consider the matter of redheads.

It has been said (truly it has) that redheaded men are not to be trusted, and Caruso is a redhead. It has been said that male redheads are duplicitous, weak, mean-spirited, and devious. Not that there haven’t been redheaded males of accomplishment. Winston Churchill, who possessed auburn locks when he had hair, was a man of some attainment, I understand. And who could accuse Red Skelton, or even Red Buttoms of being duplicitous? Not I. Even though I never found Red Skelton remotely funny.

On the other hand, the kid who delivers our newspaper is tonsorially on the rouge side, and I wouldn’t trust the little bugger around the corner. Just something about him. I think it’s the way he throws the paper at the front door with sufficient force to chip paint that has something to do with it. That, plus the chronically nasty look on his face. I suspect he's a future felon, but that's just me.

I’ve read that redheaded kids in the UK (where redheads usually go by the term ‘ginger’) have a hard time with bullying at school, and regularly have the snot beaten out of them, just for the hue of their hair. That’s mean.

Interestingly, redheaded women get no bad press, and are considered often to be extremely desirable. Mainly because they are.

I was once married to a redhead, and she had flowing auburn tresses that ran right down to her cute bum when first I met her. I think I initially fell in love with her hair. And, there are things about redheads that only one who has been in very close quarters with a ‘true’ redhead knows to indeed be true. No more about that, however.

And, even though I am no longer married to a redhead, locks of auburn or titian will still invariably turn my head. They even did before I met my ex-wife.

Redheaded women often have fiery and feisty temperaments, but there is nothing wrong with that. I like forthright women. They are sometimes mercurial in temperament. That’s OK. Keeps a fella on his toes.

And now that I have run through all my clichés and stereotypes, I’ll just recall the loveliness of Rita Hayworth or Nicole Kidman, or assorted others of such a tone who have made impact. Even if the sunset tresses have come out of a bottle. It always works.

Here’s a toast to the redheads of the world!