Let's just say a short, stout Indian man comes up to you wearing a rather dissheveled doo-rag with 2 sharp metal objects tucked smartly underneath. He approaches you about how nice your hair looks and...where are you from, oh really, I have relatives that live there. Then he takes a small notepad from his pocket and shows you testimonials written in an approximate language from people who have benefitted from his services. Which happens to be cleaning the wax buildup from both your big knotty ears. When I was a young boy, my dear mother would lay me across her large lap and clean my ears with a soft q-tip and a loving touch. This man is definitely not my mother, so I quickly pull away from hands that have already gripped my lobes. Some say he applies a kind of goo (slight of hand) to the q-tip as he shows you how badly you need his expertise. With a firm, yet respectful dismissal (he's got small sharp objects close to your face) you talk him down from the ledge he seems to be walking. Finally, he moves on to another person (usually white) who carries a camera and seems inpervious to this deliciously macabre invasion of the senses.
