I, Ken Klassic, have assumed the role of incumbent Ken in these most confused times. A great travesty was visited upon you. The previous administration, in a misguided and dangerous attempt to assuage a bloated and failing ego, thrust upon you the unrequested and troublesome task of selecting the most appealing look for Ken in 1995. Good hearted creatures that you are, many of you resonded and voted for your favourite hairstyle. But, dear commrades, something unfortunate happened: in an outpouring of excess democracy, New Fresh-Look Ken was selected to be Ken for 1995.
You could not have known, commrades, that New Fresh-Look Ken was simply a look of the past that could not survive in these brave new days: the boyish mop and smooth cheeks had no place in the world of dark, attitude-choked dance bars nor in that of ponderous meetings with middle-aged academics. Over the course of the voting period, razors had been cast aside and scissors spurned, and April found Ken Klassic waxing strongly; by May, there was to be no turning back, and drastic measures were necessary to prevent coiffurial chaos.
For the good of all, democracy had to be corrected. Sense and style have prevailed over mere popular whim, and I stand before you once more, Ken Klassic, in all my hirsuite humility.