A Cut Above the Rest

by Rob Valet | 11/20/98 6:00am

Maybe some of you, in your TV-watching days before this term began, also saw my favorite commercial of the summer. It was the one for the Mach 3, the very sleek and sexy new shaving device from Gillette. The commercial has this guy taking out his Mach 3 and beginning to shave.

Somehow the experience is so orgasmic that he finds himself in a jet. As the shave approaches even greater heights of ecstasy, the jet can no longer handle the thrill, and it begins to disintegrate, leaving the guy flying along somewhat naked, presumably working on his chin whiskers at the same time.

Well, having a brain that is very pliable to the idiot whims of Madison Avenue, I promptly went out to buy myself a Mach 3. Imagine my surprise to discover that it only cost about eight bucks (also available for $19.95 in Hanover). "Wow," I thought. "For eight dollars not only do I get this extremely sexy shaving device, but apparently that also includes the price of the disintegrating jet."

Once I bought the Mach 3, I realized it kind of intimidated me. "Am I cool and attractive enough to be using this thing?" I wondered. "Also, if I use it, do I really want my plane to disappear, leaving me flying ass-naked three miles above the ground?"

Faced with such grave concerns, I never did try out the Mach 3. It sat in my house and then in my drawer here. Until a few days ago. I finally conquered my feelings of Mach 3 inadequacy. More importantly, my old razor was really dull.

With much apprehension, then, I removed the Mach 3 from its package (or rather, I taxied it out of its hanger). I was also somewhat concerned about whether Barbasol shaving cream would be able to handle such a piece of high technology or whether it would incinerate on my face from the high performance.

Luckily, everything went off without a hitch. It was truly a special shaving experience (well, as special as a shaving experience can be). Just ask my roommate, Andrew. As I was in the bathroom simultaneously shaving and extolling the virtues of Mach 3 (at one point I yelled something like "Whoo-eee!"), he kept asking what the hell was wrong with me.

He hasn't been converted yet, though. He did not realize the bliss that is Mach 3. I was indeed inside that jet, and it did disintegrate, and I did hurtle through the air at about 2000 miles an hour, to land right back in my dorm bathroom.

So I would highly recommend the Mach 3 the next time you are in search of a high-quality shaving product. I would also highly recommend the new popcorn chicken things they have at Food Court. I am not sure what is wrong with me that such little things assume such importance in my life.

It may be that I have too little to worry about. I never throw any "ghetto" parties or anything like that, so I don't have to spend any of my time dodging protesters. Probably a bigger factor in my fascination with the unimportant is my other roommate, Brad. Brad got me started on the popcorn chicken, and he was a big factor in helping me overcome my fear of the Mach 3. Brad, it should be noted, gets genuinely excited every night when it is time to go to bed, and I think some of this undue enthusiasm is rubbing off.

So it is that I entered the new and wonderful world of Mach 3. Shaving is once again a joy. I have even begun shaving some body parts men wouldn't normally think of shaving. Actually, just kidding. Hmm, come to think of it, my face is getting kind of fuzzy right now. Time to go hop in my jet!

Whoo-eee!

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