Wigging Out.

In the words of the immortal Nigel Tufnel, with certain things, sometimes it's "best [to] leave it...unsolved." Case in point: the mystery of Phil Spector's lid. The recently convicted murderer and music legend has treated us lo these past four years or so to an array of fantastic hairdos the likes of which have not been seen since a 1987 stroll through the Mall of America.

From the Bride of Frankenstein to the Carol Brady, his locks were seriously amazing, and I was happy to leave it at that. Maybe I fleetingly wondered how exactly the hairdos occurred: is there a warehouse in the wig district of some far-flung city filled with these exquisite follicular specimens? If so, can I visit it and is there a discount for buying in bulk?

Then, this happened:
...and suddenly, the party was over. We took a sharp left from what was simply an innocent visit to Crazytown and drove straight into the darkest corner of Beelzebub's basement. It's a look that is also seriously amazing, but in every wrong way possible. Hold me.