"When I was in college, I used to do charity work," Campo remembers, "but all I've really been doing since then is playing music and moping around. I'm not a wealthy man, so I can't donate money. But I thought this would be a really cool idea."
Campo hasn't cut his tresses for a year and half -- Locks of Love requires a ten-inch minimum -- and it seems like an eternity to a guy who's had short hair his whole life. "Girls definitely don't dig it," he says. "I've been called Jesus and hippie quite a few times. And since I don't like the way a ponytail feels, I literally have to wear a hat when I eat."
But that's the least of the problems created by Campo's golden mop. Laid off two months ago, he's been applying tirelessly for sales and office positions -- and he's convinced that his freak flag is hindering his chance at a livelihood. "At job interviews, they're not digging it," he explains. "When I get it cut, I'm going to go straight-up Marines style."
Campo is almost at the ten-inch finish line. Still, after being mistaken for Jesus on a regular basis, he admits that his sense of altruism has begun to waver. "There have been plenty of times when I was seriously like, ŒFuck this. I can't deal with it anymore,'" he confesses. "But I'm really glad I did it. I just hope it's long enough soon. I really have to get a job."
Tuesday morning coming down: Shareholder meetings at Coors take place in the brewery's sixth-floor auditorium.
Previous meetings were fun, reports an Off Limits operative who owns one share of Coors stock. There was usually a big display of Coors products on the stage, a chatty state-of-the-industry talk by Bill Coors, a screening of soon-to-be-released TV commercials, a lively Q&A session -- and plenty of free beer afterward.
But Tuesday's meeting was as flat as a leftover glass of beer from last night. No sparkle. No fizz. Just business.
Reading from a script, former Senate candidate Pete Coors conducted the meeting, which consisted of procedural matters and nothing more. Nine proposals needed to be passed by the various classes of stockholders in order to turn the Adolph Coors Company into the Molson Coors Brewing Company.
Just fourteen minutes later, it was all over except for a press conference. Ninety-two percent of the votes had favored the merger.
The only words spoken by Bill Coors during the meeting: "I so move."
And not a free beer in sight.
On the Record:
Coloradans have booze on the brain. Last fall, U.S. Representative Bob Beauprez proposed a national ban on AWOL, the Alcohol With Out Liquid vaporizer technology marketed by Spirit Partners that allows you to imbibe simply by inhaling. Now state senator Bob Hagedorn has proposed the same ban on a statewide level -- even though no bar in Colorado boasts an AWOL machine. Two of his lawmaker cohorts have tacked similar proposals onto more comprehensive alcohol-related bills, including one that would allow local municipalities to start selling booze -- of the liquid variety only -- from noon until 8 p.m. on Sundays. Off Limits caught up with Hagedorn, a political-science professor at Metro State, for some sober discussion after his SB-34 passed second reading in the Colorado Senate last week.
Q: State legislators can only introduce a few bills in a session. Why is banning the AWOL device so important to you?
A: I don't consider myself a nanny like some of my other colleagues, but I see no real value in the AWOL device. There are huge health risks. It's essentially shooting up alcohol vapor straight into the brain without being diffused by the normal digestive tract. There's no way to determine how much alcohol they're getting. For hundreds of thousands of years, we've been drinking alcohol, and I think we can go another thousand years consuming alcoholic beverages that way.
Q: Have you ever seen an AWOL device?
A: The closest I know of is that they're appearing on the Eastern seaboard in trendy nightclubs. And maybe there's one in Oklahoma.
Q: Would your bill ban Spirit Partners' junior version, which is intended for private home use?
A: I go after the individual device as well as the commercial device. I don't mean to pick on frats, but imagine a device in a frat. It would be accessible around the clock, and the distributors themselves recommend no more than two twenty-minute sessions in 24 hours. And I was considering proposing this even before Gordie Bailey's death and the other alcohol-related incidents on our college campuses.
Q: Your bill is just about this issue. Why do you think other legislators are tacking AWOL bans onto their alcohol-related proposals?
A: Let's go back to the corking legislation, which allowed opened but unfinished bottles of wine to be taken out of restaurants. If it were a stand-alone bill, corking would never have gotten Governor Owens's signature. So the restaurant lobby got it tied in with the lowering of the threshold of blood-alcohol content from .1 to .08. The governor wanted the threshold lowered, so he allowed the bill to become law without his signature. It smells to me like that's what's happening with the push to have Sundays open. There's a push to put something good -- in this case, banning an insidious device -- with something bad -- expanding the liquor laws -- in hopes that the governor might sign it.
Q: Do you have a favorite cocktail?
A: I don't drink. I am a recovering alcoholic. I have a little over eight years of sobriety. I don't seek to ban access to all alcohol. I say live and let live. But I don't support Sunday opening and full beer-and-wine licenses for grocery stores. That's an expansion of the laws. I just want to put a roadblock in front of the AWOL device; I don't want to go back to Prohibition.