It has recently and obviously come to my attention that I no longer have a beard. Such a drastic change in my visage should have been accompanied by just as drastic press release from my publicist but I know now that that release did not come. Rest assured, my fans, that this decision was not made lightly and was definitely not made after a beard-trimming event went terribly awry. No, this was the culmination of what some are calling the ‘Beard Era’ and its destruction was both right and warranted.
Please be advised that this release includes several Pictures of a Sensitive Nature that are not meant for imitation, forgery or, least of all, mockery. Thank you.
B E H O L D
As you can see above, the Beard adds a gravitas and a seriousness to my face that not even eyeblack can replicate. This is a primary reason that the Beard was grown, to make my enemies quiver under my stoicism and to make my ego feel like a Big Serious Man. Most of the time, society responded to me in kind, calling me ‘good bearded sir’ and asking if I wanted to lead the Local Follicle Awareness parade. (I declined, of course.) It seemed I had turned over a new leaf, a new life to lead as an “ICBM” (Interminally Cool Bearded Man) but alas, it would not last.
For soon I began to turn against my hard-won facehairs, seeing patches where there of course were none and weakness where there of course was none. Was this beard just a product of a bored mind and was I just a poser, living a lie as thick as the follicles on my impressive chin? Now that I had become a Big Man, I felt more like a Big… Lie. This wasn’t me. This rugged and ambitious Gaston figure was someone I barely knew, a striking and mysterious face staring back at me from every bathroom mirror, every foggy window. The beard had to go. I readied my razor and flew into action.
Soon, the deed was done.
shoot, wrong pic, heh stand by
*ahem*
oh goddamnit
AND I SHALL SHOW YOU THE FACE OF GOD
The smoothness returned, the stiff upper lip melted and truly, a boy was born unto us that day.
Without the beard, I have become myself again, free to walk unmolested through the Chuck Klosterman Con and free of a particularly entrenched family of sparrows that had called my wooly philtrum home for so long. Lord forgive me, I’m back to the old me and it feels oh so soft.
Do I feel regret? Well, I’ll just let Ol’ Mark Twain take this one:
–Huck Finn to Becky Thatcher, Chap. 23, Injun Joe Takes Hannibal (1874)
Please be advised that this release includes several Pictures of a Sensitive Nature that are not meant for imitation, forgery or, least of all, mockery. Thank you.
B E H O L D
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| the much anticipated hi-res look at “Beard Kristian” |
As you can see above, the Beard adds a gravitas and a seriousness to my face that not even eyeblack can replicate. This is a primary reason that the Beard was grown, to make my enemies quiver under my stoicism and to make my ego feel like a Big Serious Man. Most of the time, society responded to me in kind, calling me ‘good bearded sir’ and asking if I wanted to lead the Local Follicle Awareness parade. (I declined, of course.) It seemed I had turned over a new leaf, a new life to lead as an “ICBM” (Interminally Cool Bearded Man) but alas, it would not last.
For soon I began to turn against my hard-won facehairs, seeing patches where there of course were none and weakness where there of course was none. Was this beard just a product of a bored mind and was I just a poser, living a lie as thick as the follicles on my impressive chin? Now that I had become a Big Man, I felt more like a Big… Lie. This wasn’t me. This rugged and ambitious Gaston figure was someone I barely knew, a striking and mysterious face staring back at me from every bathroom mirror, every foggy window. The beard had to go. I readied my razor and flew into action.
Soon, the deed was done.
 |
shoot, wrong pic, heh stand by
 |
*ahem*
 |
oh goddamnit
 |
AND I SHALL SHOW YOU THE FACE OF GOD
The smoothness returned, the stiff upper lip melted and truly, a boy was born unto us that day.
Without the beard, I have become myself again, free to walk unmolested through the Chuck Klosterman Con and free of a particularly entrenched family of sparrows that had called my wooly philtrum home for so long. Lord forgive me, I’m back to the old me and it feels oh so soft.
Do I feel regret? Well, I’ll just let Ol’ Mark Twain take this one:
The smoother a man’s face, the easier the rains shall pour upon his fields and shower him with many bounties, gifts and gizmos. Blessed be the bare chin.
–Huck Finn to Becky Thatcher, Chap. 23, Injun Joe Takes Hannibal (1874)
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
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