Churrigueresque.

There, I’ve said it. Been wanting to use that word ever since I first heard it — actually, saw it -- and now I think I can.

My hair is churrigueresque.

Thanks to the coronavirus confinement and closure of barbershops, that ashen hayfield overwhelming my head is churrigueresque.

At least I think it is.

My thesaurus suggests such synonyms as baroque … elaborate … fussy … overdone.

And if I have to pay by-the-bale for what the barber harvests, when he’s back in business, I will be baroque … make that ba-roke as in broke.

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Don Shula’s steely gaze from the sidelines was outdone only by his big smile after a football victory, which was often.

Some of us think he was the greatest of all NFL coaches — he’s the only one to take a team (Miami) to an undefeated season (1972), including a Super bowl win.

Shula died Monday at 90.

He made the game of football better to play and to watch.

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I came across this recipe for the color sepia: Mix orange and blue, purple and yellow. Really? Artists in Green Valley, of which there are many, would know — but that floored me. I thought sepia was kind of reddish brown.

I did learn sepia is named after the pigment derived from the ink sac of the common cuttlefish named Sepia. (OK, I didn’t know there was such a thing as a common cuttlefish, or any kind of cuttlefish).

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With seasons canceled and future games possibly played in empty stadiums and arenas, college sports will be forever changed by the coronavirus guidelines. But maybe all of the changes won’t be so terrible.

We may not see again the great blue-chip college athlete walking to campus accompanied by a coterie of agent, personal trainer and go-fer, the hired assistant who runs errands and provides various wants and needs to the teenage prodigy who is endowed mostly with exceptional ability to run fast and jump high.

And we may see the end of $400 million stadium upgrades and $11 million-a-year salaries for the head football coach.

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Not long ago there was a story out of South Africa about three rhino-poachers who sneaked into a game preserve to murder a rhino or two but, instead, managed to corner a pride of lions.

The result was predictable: A feast for the lions.

A day or so later on the car radio I listened to a “moment of reverence” religious commercial in which the guy enjoined us against poaching lions as our last act on earth. That would seem to be a good idea. That, and a resolve to stalk rhinos and lions only when they’re in strong cages at the zoo.

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Friendly warning: People who use their fingers to make air-quotation marks when they speak, need to stay away from commas and periods, dashes, colons and semicolons. Not to mention those dangerously sharp exclamation points.

Corky Simpson is a veteran journalist who writes a column for the Green Valley News.