Colbert Hair is a fluid synthesis of dynamic characteristics that drive the success of The Colbert Report. Like the eye on the dollar bill, the hairdryer in Colbert's crest casts a conservative net of hairspray on tyranny. Flowing on parallel paths, the shinyness, perfectness, and mind oozing schmegmatic funness of Colbert Hair blend into a love hate cauldron of bitchslap.
I woke up one day, put my balls in my backpack, shelacked my hair, and said "... damn, it is a Colbert Hair day."
Your friend may approach you, and instead of saying, "Dude, your freakin hair looks tits today," he may exclaim, "For shit sakes pimpstick, you've got the Colbert Hair!"
If your hair is so devine as to shine and protect, then you have Colbert Hair. If you purchassed Colbert's sperm in a can at Walmart and used it as gel, then you have Colbert Hair. If you have been arguing with your inner voice about who's claw-like bangs would work in a fight, a latina or mormon polygamyst, then you may or may not have Colbert Hair.
The other day I had Colber Hair, but I just pulled that shit out of the fucking drain and dumped that schmegma right into my buttcrack just to see what it felt like.