It’s been a while since I’ve focused on beards, but a strange confluence of activities requires that I address the topic once again.
First, a colleague decided that I would enjoy the continuum of beards, from friendly to evil, which I blogged about some time ago. She was right. I still enjoy it. It’s a pretty solid continuum, except that I have the same question about why the Burt Reynolds mustache is more trustworthy than the Abe Lincoln chinstrap.
I tell you what, B&E readers: I was on beard overload, ready to start growing out my own hairy, hairy face so that I could dream once more of competing in the World Beard & Mustache Championships.
And then, if my colleague didn’t just hit me full in the (bearded) face with the pièce de résistance: photos by Dave Mead. Those are some bearded fellas, they are. And some I recognize from the World Beard & Mustache Championships. These are the legends. The icons. They are the truly dedicated. They remind me that I will never be them. I am decades from having a beard that awesome.
Especially since I’m still on a weekly clipping schedule.