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Redheads won’t go without fiery fight

Long live redheads! AS I RECALL, my Angel of Death wore wire-rimmed glasses and brown loafers. He sidled up to my mother and me–both redheads–while we enjoyed overpriced frozen coffee drinks at a bookstore in Florida and announced unequivocally that we were on the verge of extinction. “You know you guys are a dying breed, right?”

It was the first we’d heard of it, but apparently the demise of the redheaded population–just 2 percent of the world–is predicted with some regularity. The latest news reports claim we’ll die out by the end of the century–no doubt with the few remaining survivors doomed to haunt the bogs of Louisiana, the ivory-billed woodpecker of the freckle-faced world. A lesser species might be worried. But we redheads have weathered worse. In ancient times, Egyptians would bury redheaded men alive as offerings to the gods–perhaps to the deities in charge of SPF 80 sunblock? In the Middle Ages, we were burned at the stake for suspected witchcraft. Though if you think about it, wouldn’t a real witch simply conjure up a cauldron of Nice & Easy and turn herself into a God-fearing brunette?

Read the original article at: Fredericksburg News

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