Mullet pride is this: The mullet hair style came and went in the 1980s this particular person still holds on to it and is now branded with the name as if a different race. He is in his 40s now, his hair may be thinning on top and people laughing at him behind his back, but he will never let it go as far as he's concerned it's a vital organ - it defines him. He enjoys the hair draped on his neck and back even though he looks ridiculous while wearing a wife beater tank top stained with beer, two sizes too small for his bird chest and protruding gut. That's okay with him because he can show off his prison tatoos, which today looks like a kid doodled on his arms and knuckles with an ink pen while he was passed out. He is missing some teeth now, his face matches that of a ball glove, his earlobe can no longer hold the studs he used to install, but his mullet makes up for it. He still drives a beat up 1983 Camero that smells like butt cheese and stale smokes with a few cracks in the windshiled where he blasted his fists one night in a druken fury at the trailer park. The seats are torn and the backseat is a dumpster, the AC quit working and the glove box is held shut with duct tape. The original color has thus faded and the hood is one color and the passenger door another, which resembles a pinata. You can here him coming blocks away for he still has Sparkomatic speakers cranked up so loud they become distorted and if you listen closely you can still catch a couple of lyrics from Motley Crue. Only his car is second to his hair.

He's not smart enough to know that the one girl who said he looked "cool" with his hair in 1987, while snorting coke, is long gone or may be 300 lbs still living in that trailer park with six kids - maybe a couple of them his. He has mullet pride a never dieing breed.