Personal Growth

I was chowing down on a particularly uneventful turkey burger at lunch today. Fittingly, I was reading USA Today - a fast food paper if ever there was one when I stumbled upon an essay by a writer who shall remain nameless. Anyhow, he was writing about mustaches and their mysterious absence from society at large - relatively speaking. After reading the article, I sat back, chewing blankly and without purpose when I realized I had something to say about this topic. I just hated that the idea had to come from McPaper. Oh well, some people read tea leaves while others read bird droppings for inspiration. I took what is used to line the cages that collects those bird droppings and sought to bring it to a higher purpose.

First, let me say that I have nothing against facial hair. On some people, it completes their face. Have you ever seen someone who had a mustache and/or beard for a long, long time and then one day, it's gone? You know it's them, but half their face is missing. Suddenly, you start to panic and look for the nearest exit while cramming handfuls of Xanax down your throat like they were Skittles. Facial hair gave their heads balance. It's a bit unnerving discovering behind that mighty Zeus beard hides a chin as small, soft and weak as a hamster's ass. My father has such a beard. When it's in full bloom, he looks like the second coming of Ernest Hemingway - full of masculinity and windblown fury. Slap a turtleneck on him and plop him down on a barstool in a seedy Key West dive and even the natives would call him "Papa". When he had the audacity to shave it off one time, he looked like Gepeto - and I don't care how many tattoos, Harleys or enemies's bones you have littering the front yard, Gepeto is about as intimidating as a marshmallow peep.

My family has always had an easy time growing facial hair - even the women (well, not you, Mom, since I know you'll be reading this). My brother, Dave, starting working on his mustache in second grade. I had a more difficult time, as it took years of “pressing it in” and holding up a comb under my nose to see how irresistible I would look with a thick hedge of black hair over my lip. Finally, the day came and I experimented with all manner of facial grooming. Eventually, I settled on the goatee, which, even then, I knew looked ridiculous. My goatee looked like the aftermath of eating a chocolate pudding cup with my hands tied behind my back. Besides, only two types of people wear goatees anymore – bad ass biker types who would just as soon use their grandmother’s asshole as a bottle opener as they would the gaping eye socket of their best friend, and guys who hang around comic book stores, wearing ponytails, memorizing scratching habits of tertiary characters from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine while stuffing an 8-pack of chimichangas down their gullets.

So, if you’ll humor me, I’d like to pay tribute to that guy-est of guy things – facial hair:

Well, we have to start someplace, I guess. For the man who has everything, including comically weird hair and wants to finish off his look with a maw covered in what looks like possessed cotton candy, this dandy little number will have the dinner guests whispering into their whiskey sours and checking their watches. As an added bonus, for those with a modicum of athleticism, you can stand on your head and do an impression of Don King.

Was the word “second fiddle” ever more appropriate? For those wishing to ride the coat tails of another and bathe in the warming glow of reflected glory, we offer you the John Oates mustache. Easy to maintain and certain to keep you from climbing the corporate ladder, this beauty will cover that harelip and keep you dateless on those nights spent hanging out at the bus depot.

Power hungry? Syphilis-ridden? Charlie Chaplin fan? Well, do we have the mustache for you! You’ll be singing, “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a beer garden” in less time than it would take Heidi to skip through the Maginot Line. Great for scaring off house guests and nagging relatives, when cornered you can always say you are honoring Moe Howard of the Three Stooges. While they ponder that, you poke them in the eyes and make your getaway.

You’re a man’s man. Hell, you’re a goat’s man. In fact, only the toughest can pull off the permafrost beard like this intrepid adventurer. You don’t mind frozen snot in your whiskers – yours or anyone else’s. Mother Nature is your bitch, and dammit, you’re gonna treat her like one. Finger sandwiches and doilies aren’t your cup of urine. In fact, it’s best if you avoid human contact altogether.

Go ahead! I’ll let you write this one.

You’re suave! You’re cool! You’re unable to raise your eyelids more than a few millimeters. When you tap your filterless Lucky Strike on your gold cigarette case, the room knows you mean business. Bartenders the world over know what you’re drinking as soon as you glide into the room. You favor women in long evening gowns and feathered boas, grabbing them around the waist, pulling them tight and calling them “dames”. You’re a high roller and you pack a mean left. Then you go home to your mom’s basement, order a pizza and play video games until dawn.

For the man who has nothing – and likes it that way. Be the first – and likely only – person on your block to sport the Amish corona. Stride confidently through the farmer’s market and raise a barn or two before 8 a.m. It’s just another day in the life for you. Whether your name is Jebediah, Zachariah, Jeremiah or Bucky, this is the look for you.

For old school porn fans, nothing beats the glory ‘stache of the infamous Harry Reems. Well, old Harry has been long forgotten, but his lip hair lives on in the exquisitely styled Tom Selleck offering. Spend hours getting your hair just right? Well, if your hair is who you are, why not accessorize it a bit? Be the talk of the dance floor at the gay disco as you boogie to the sounds of Donna Summer. With a single nod of the head and a gleam in your eye, there’ll be no mistaking that you’re a “top” as you wiggle your bottom.

So, there you are. You just struck out the side and now it’s time for some domestic beer and ball-scratchin’ in the clubhouse. A few tokes from a joint in the trainer’s room and 15 minutes later, your Maserati is kicking up roostertails of gravel in the parking lot while Jimi Hendrix sings “Stone Free” from the 8-track. Then, it’s an evening of tequila and shooting birds in the backyard while your old lady, in a methamphetamine daze moans, “Baby, come back to bed” before she vomits into the top drawer of the nightstand. Not for the faint of heart or the boring.

The devil made you do it! Whether you’re gathering fresh souls, appearing on the shoulders of people who can’t make up their mind or being mistaken for Salvador Dali, this over-the-top combo will raise Hell with the damnation set. Ideal for those born with cloven feet, the triangular beard provides a nifty yin counterpoint to the yang of your horns. Forever hip to the latest trends, this fashion never goes out of style.

Not a facial hair grower? Wasn’t blessed with the genetic material to pull off a successful mustache? Perhaps you want to take a trial run without committing? Well, we are a full-service operation and we’re here to help. Introducing the Groucho, a grease-based application that takes the risk out of the equation. If you’ve been longing for a Snickers-shaped swath of grease across your face, then maybe the Groucho is for you.

Well, some guys have all the luck. If you are one of those “all-or-nothing” guys, you can’t go wrong here. They’ll be howling from here to London when they see you easing down the street with a massive explosion of testosterone on your face. Bags under the eyes? Gone! Acne? Fuggetaboudit! The moon is always full as folks come up to you and tell you how much they loved you in those Geico commercials. Patience is your strong suit, as you know that, any day, a casting agent will be hiring you for Teen Wolf III.

Ho Ho Ho! You’re big, you’re jolly, and kids around the world love you while parents are divided about your presence. No, you’re not Barney, you’re ol’ Saint Nick! Red is definitely YOUR color as people stop dead in their tracks and take pictures of you on their cell phones. Earn some extra cash around the holidays holding impromptu photo opportunities while precocious kids yank your beard and piss all over your lap. Load up on cheesesteaks and chicken wings all year round, because, as Mrs. Claus says, “No one wants a skinny Santa!”

Oh, I’m sure I left out many other facial hair styles, such as the soul patch, the Clark Gable/Prince-stache, and the high school cafeteria lady flavor-saver, among others, but I had to shave a few of them off to be able to fit this in. Besides, I’m hungry and I need to get something to eat.

I wonder if I have any pudding left…