Stopping the insurgency…

As I write, I fear the worst. My current state of trepidation is fueled by the cyclical winds of change that bring of the evils of yore back again. I wait, on the verge of this rebellion, quietly pondering. Where will I be when the revolution begins? My hope is to be on the front lines fighting the powers that strive to usurp the progress of the past few decades. Of which revolution do I speak? Clearly, I’m referring to the ubiquitous mustache phenomenon. What should have died with Tom Selleck reemerged a few years back among a curious few who, undoubtedly, were trying to be “ironic.” I was living just south of Seattle at the time, so when I witnessed the ‘stash nouveau I just figured it went with the territory. No cause for alarm, I thought—the reemergence was effectively quarantined in the land of tall trees and strong espresso. Alas, 2008 brought more than wildfires to SoCal. The mustaches have effectively arrived in San Diego.

OK, wait. Let’s back up a minute to clarify. I love guys with facial hair. In my book scruffy guys are cute and sexy. A (moderately sized) mustache is acceptable when buttressed by other facial hair. (e.g., goatee, full-on beard, *soul patch, etc.) The straight up, in your face, unforgiving mustache is an entirely different story. Word to the wise, if you need to condition your stash to keep it untangled, or you find yourself inhaling unruly hairs with your breakfast sandwich, or if your stash resembles an obese, hairy caterpillar that has crawled upon your pillowy lip to die—cut that motherfucker right now. It’s not funny, it’s not sexy, and contrary to urban legend, no lady’s ever gonna take you up on that mustache ride offer. Ever. Seriously, sporting that thing above your upper lip is the equivalent of dousing yourself with 8 gallons of pussy repellent.

*Only if moderately sized & proportionate to said mustache. This combo can get tricky…Please exercise extreme caution.