Kiddies this is a semi-rant. NSFW for innuendo, language, and politics.
I know this will torque some jaws. I don’t care. (Big surprise, huh?) Gonna stand on a soapbox for a bit to complain of a pretentious and disgusting habit (or fashion trend) now considered all the rage. Not sure which is dumber, the males involved or the females who a) admire this fashion and/or b) don’t have the crust to tell a male displaying this way to grow up.
Imagine with me…
“You should go wash your face.”
“I just took a shower.”
“Missed some spots.”
“Aw, man, that’s beard.”
“I see that. Scruffy. Unkempt. Makes you look lazy and sloppy.”
“All the rage.”
“You fancy yourself some kinda Brand Spits?”
“Well yeah, kinda.”
“Not pulling if off. Not at all. Even Spits looks sloppy, scruffy like some lazy bum scratching himself looking for his next mid-morning beer.”
“Ladies like it.”
“What? That scruffy, sloppy, half-there, half-missing beard you call it, or the vision of a man scratching himself?”
“The beard, man.”
“The ones that wear an intentionally lewd brand name emblazoned across their asses in public?”
“Those are just the young ones. Real women like a man with a beard too.”
“You mean the ones rushing out to spend big bucks on designer pants, cut to the pubes, or lopped-off just below the knee? Or the ones who buy three-hundred-dollar jeans more rips than denim? All because it’s the current fashion?”
“Same ladies who leap from one wife-beater to another because they missed the brain train?”
“Some women, real women, women in control, women with class and brains, genuinely like a beard.”
“Real beard looks good on a man. Man pays attention to it. Grooms it. Takes pride in it. What you got, what all the wannabe hep dudes got, is grunge. Looks like a peed-on shag carpet. What you got ain’t a beard.”
“Sure it is.”
“Beard, from the looks of things so far, gonna take a month to cover your ugly mug.”
“Trim it before then.”
“Not supposed to be a Santa Claus beard. Shave after five, six days.”
“Start all over again with the grunge look, right?”
“Well, yes. Start all over. Not supposed to be Abe Lincoln. Just rough-looking, masculine. You know, all male, a real man. Like you just climbed outta bed.”
“Well, you got that one covered.”
“It’s male-sexy, man.”
“You wanna show how male you are, try something else. Chop down a tree. Ride a fire truck for a living. Treat your wife with respect.”
“You know I’m not married.”
“It’s the idea there, Binky. Treat all women with respect. Stop trying to impress with grunge because some Hollywood twit or pro sports miscreant has groupies’ drooling over him in spite of his patchy facial hair.”
“Women think it’s masculine.”
“I suspect women with snow for brains. Or who been snorting white stuff that ain’t snow. Or buying overpriced screwball clothing.”
“Women think it’s cool.”
“I think it makes you look like you didn’t have time to shave. Probably didn’t brush your teeth either.”
“Got nothing to do with that.”
“One other thing it suggests. Not talking about just climbed outta bed either.”
There. Vented. Feel better. Think I’ll go outside and kick a dog. Or yell at a skateboarding youngster.
Before you get all pissy, that was just for effect. The kids cruising up and down streets in the ‘hood are fun to watch. Long, modest hills here cry out to have someone use them. Energy-free. Non-polluting. Essentially noiseless. So far, haven’t see a kid gaming on his phone while boarding. Haven’t seen any of them ‘take a knee’ to show how socially conscious and committed they are. Kids are okay.
And I like dogs. Even dogs who dump in my yard. It’s the inconsiderate human owners I’d like to clobber. Unfortunately, there are rules against such.
No. Wait. Democrats are changing the rules. Imma go down to the precinct and change my registration to Democrat. See what radical ‘protest’ group is next due to peaceably demonstrate. Paint some signs. “My Yard Matters!” “Dog Poop is Pollution!” “Keep America Dog Poop Free!” Then go demonstrate on a few inconsiderate boobs’ yards.
I could come to understand and work within this new civil system. Didn’t say I’d like it. Just that I could adapt.