...waving as the "popular culture" moves on down the road in a cloud of dust, tailights dwindling to nothingness in the distance, lost in the light pollution of the urban maze.
Heh.
I suppose it's only fitting that the pr0n and fashion industries, abetted by their fellow-travelers in the entertainment industry, having set a silly standard of depilated waifishness with the occasional appearance of huge tracts of land (ala Monty Python) for women, that the circle be squared for men.
We now have the depilated, oiled standard for the hip metrosexual male, who then, perhaps mostly to account for the receding hairline, wishes to maintain a stubble of beard, if only to prove that there is some testosterone pulsing about in there somewhere.
But! But! It must be *neatly groomed* two-day stubble.
Can't have an untidy stubble, that wouldn't fit in with the other assaults on the language.
No, there's an app for that.
Comes now the iStubble. No, really. An electric razor optimized to... only shave you a little bit.
Bravo for the forward-looking entrepneurial types at Conair seeing an unserved market.
Sad that there's a market...
I'm ready for the asteroid now. Perhaps it is time to start over.
Heh.
I suppose it's only fitting that the pr0n and fashion industries, abetted by their fellow-travelers in the entertainment industry, having set a silly standard of depilated waifishness with the occasional appearance of huge tracts of land (ala Monty Python) for women, that the circle be squared for men.
We now have the depilated, oiled standard for the hip metrosexual male, who then, perhaps mostly to account for the receding hairline, wishes to maintain a stubble of beard, if only to prove that there is some testosterone pulsing about in there somewhere.
But! But! It must be *neatly groomed* two-day stubble.
Can't have an untidy stubble, that wouldn't fit in with the other assaults on the language.
No, there's an app for that.
Comes now the iStubble. No, really. An electric razor optimized to... only shave you a little bit.
Bravo for the forward-looking entrepneurial types at Conair seeing an unserved market.
Sad that there's a market...
I'm ready for the asteroid now. Perhaps it is time to start over.
Maybe I've just been lucky enough to know folicullarly-blessed men, but my experience is that kissing and cuddling with stubble must be carefully managed, as it is downright dangerous for us ladies with tender skin.
Silly metrosexuals!
Still, prime time TV yesterday offered up a "reality show" about some family and their art collection. Thanks, Fox.
768 channels and there's nothing on worth watching I haven't already seen.
A curse of age. There comes a point when you realize that there are only 24 joke and 16 plotlines. And you've seen/heard them all in so many different dresses that you realize there isn't anything new left.
So you start watching the birds in the yard, scratching a cat, while getting your toes licked by a dog, waiting for those days when your grandkid and his parents come visit.
And that you don't miss tv as much as you thought you would... but ya still have to peek now and then, in the vain hope it will get better.
Like we will when the new season kicks off next week. Hoping against our better judgement...
@Joe. Heh. Just as I'm growing the fall crop to insulate the face against the cool breeze on my bike.
I've had it for a couple of years, at least. Of course, I don't use any of th guards, just use the thing for getting my whitewalls that much closer than the big Oster clippers can. (Probably the best $20 I ever spent - they save me $10 every other week. If my stocks had that kind of rate of return, I could buy Warrne Buffet and tell him to STFU.)
What you almost never see these days is a mostache.
I'm jes' gon' sit here on da porch, gittin' my toes licked by da dawg.
Difference is, I ain't foistin' my crap on everybody else.
JUST STAY OFF MY LAWN, PUNKS!
And I apologize that my "can't die off quick enough" generations of self-absorbed twits balances the casual vulgarity of what passes for popcult with the barrage of ads for pain pills, penis pills, testosterone pills, cholesterol pills, COPD drugs, and calcium supplements.
Note well, kids, have more kids than we did. That will tamp down the old-age demographic.
And don't forget the ice floes.
Now, for the moustache I've had since '88 or so, and it's not going anywhere? I never trim it in any way, though sometimes I wax it a bit for Divine Services. Just think of Joshua Chamberlain at Little Round Top, or any 19th-Century baseball player. It's nicely white and distinguished-looking, now.
A few days unshaven makes one look "unemployed", as Dilbert found out. I loves me my 19th-Century Joshua Chamberlain white moustache, which has never been trimmed, just waxed occasionally for Divine Services and suchlike.
Later thoughts: I have noticed that as I get older, the beard gets tougher and the skin gets more tender. Maybe this is why we geezers are reluctant to shave every day.
After the Reformation, local custom superceded tradition in some countries, especially in France. Contemporary woodcuts of the French Jesuit missionaries to North America depict them as bearded.