Black Slate Media

For some, mixing irony and facial hair is nothing more than a harmless diversion. It makes people laugh, then wince, then laugh again. To these folks, Moustache May is something to behold — involving weeks to months of preparation. Come June, the hairs will be removed in a solemn fashion all too similar to boxing up those Christmas decorations.

For others, the thought of walking around with crumb duster for an entire month is about as enticing as an open mouth kiss with a sibling. I tend to fall into the latter. Look at the picture. Look at it!!! Would you let me near you or your loved ones? It’s not only the effect on my social interactions that I fear, it’s that I don’t trust it. Those hairs might not be long on the outside, but on the inside they will grow down to the core of my being. Who knows what will happen then? Unspeakable acts of dirt-baggery? Run-ins with Johnny Law? A Dodge Daytona?

A wise man once said:

There is a very, very, very fine line between looking hipster cool and looking like a child molester.

Well, with a moustache, I will cross that line and build a wall over it so high that I may never return. My decision not to participate is for all our benefit. To those involved, godspeed.