Man Beard flaw?

I guess if I had to name one problem with Man Beards it would be that they sometimes seem to forget that the rest of society doesn't always approve of Man Beard behavior. Luckily the wisely bearded judicial system invented the insanity plea (secretly known as the "Man Beard clause") to help protect Man Beards from society and its prejudices. If you think it seems like society needs protection from Man Beards, you're fucking absolutely right, but you probably don't have a single hair on your chin.

In an unrelated story, Eric notes that Jeff Reardon was found not guilty by reason of insanity for robbing a liquor store.

The Ultimate Beard-Off

We've covered a lot here at Man Beard Blog, but there is still a beardload of bearded man-goodness out there that needs to be blogged.

We all know the equation:

MAN + BEARD + BLOG = MAN BEARD BLOG

But beyond that simple arithmetic is a vast and complex world. A world full of men, full of beards, and full of blogs. A world with beard blogs and man blogs. And most importantly, it is a world full of Man Beards. This is where it all comes together. This is Man Beard Blog.

It isn't always easy.

Tonight as I was reclining upon my fine leather couch, contemplating the next Man Beard Blog entry, I decided that there must be a good number of Man Beards who haven't yet been mentioned in this nascent offering. If this blog was a beard, it would still be a five o'clock shadow. I decided that in order to promote this blog to genuine stubble status, I need to enshrine the greatest remaining Man Beard.

And right as I decided that, the following 8 things all entered my brain within a fraction of a second. Understand that while they are 8 distinct and sequential thoughts, they all exploded into my head together at once, leaving me cowering in fear.

1. How do you decide who is the greatest unmentioned Man Beard?
2. There has to be some kind of massive beard-off.
   
3. Aha! A tournament of single-elimination 1 on 1 beard-offs!
4. Nah, that would be way too much effort.
5. Let's just figure out who would be the finalists of the beard-off.
6. 
7. For the salty love of all beards, this must be.
   
8. Oh fuck, this is impossible.

I spent the next few seconds trying to put the shambles of my life back together. The ultimate beard-off was excruciatingly within my sights, and yet unreachable. Beard arithmetic became beard Pythagorean theorem; there was no answer.

And that is when I realized that no answer is the answer. You just can't pit Sean Connery against Chuck Norris. The mere idea is simply too much for the human mind to comprehend, and we're all better off if we just let it go.

Snakes on a Man Beard

A Man Beard doesn't sneak around and try to be something he's not. He just comes right out and tells you what he is, usually by way of the visual spectacle adorning his face. After all, a beardless man can always wear a fake beard, but it is pretty damn hard for a Man Beard in full regalia to appear clean-shaven.

And a Man Beard doesn't apologize for what he is either. He doesn't give a shit if you like him or not. A Man Beard is comfortable in his own skin (unless his skin is surrounded by poisonous snakes). A Man Beard is always rated R, even when its production studio tries to make it into a PG beard, because a Man Beard will get all the beard blogs to rally for more T&A and profanity. Man Beards love T&A and profanity.

Snakes on a Plane is like the Man Beard of movies. Aside from its in-your-face beardesque title, SoaP has everything a Man Beard wants in a movie: snakes, planes, Samuel L. Jackson, as well as beardloads full of gratuitous nudity, violence and F-Bombs.

Plus at the end there's a music video featuring Sam Motherfuckin' Jackson with a sweet black and white beard. Oh and Julianna Margulies is on the plane too. She's ok I guess.

No, Donny, these men are nihilists. There's nothing to be afraid of.

Walter Sobchak respects the rules. He quotes Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, and knows when a rug ties a room together. He's a Vietnam veteran, a bowler, and a Polish-Catholic turned Jew. He once dabbled in pacifism (not in Vietnam of course).

He'll dive out of a moving car, single-handedly beat the shit out of 3 nihilists, knock over a crippled guy's wheelchair, and he'll get you a toe by 3 o'clock - with nail polish. There are ways. You don't want to know about it, believe me.

Walter Sobchak is a Man Beard.

Which isn't to say Walter doesn't have flaws. But unlike that phony Kenny Rogers, Walter's weaknesses flow from his Man Beard characteristics. Yeah, he dog-sits his ex-wife's Pomeranian, but he sure as shit doesn't fucking roll on shabbos. He might be living in the past, but at least it is a past with 3000 years of beautiful tradition from Moses to Sandy Koufax.


To put it into Man Beard terms, Walter's failure to put that woman in her place is because of his irrational exuberance. He's a little bit crazy. But that is what makes him such a potent Man Beard. Would a sane person brandish a firearm to resolve a bowling dispute? Or take a crowbar to a sports car to teach a punk kid a lesson? If that same irrational exuberance leads to him occasionally taking care of a fucking show dog with fucking papers, so be it. It's all part of his sick Cynthia thing.

Walter Sobchack's Man Beard says:

"The chinaman is not the issue here, Dude. I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude. Across this line, you DO NOT... Also, Dude, chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American, please."

"Lets not forget Dude that keeping wildlife, um... an amphibious rodent, for... um, ya know domestic... within the city... That ain't legal either."

"Nihilists! Fuck me. I mean, say what you like about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude, at least it's an ethos."

"Donny was a good bowler, and a good man. He was one of us. He was a man who loved the outdoors... and bowling, and as a surfer he explored the beaches of Southern California, from La Jolla to Leo Carrillo and... up to... Pismo. He died, like so many young men of his generation, he died before his time. In your wisdom, Lord, you took him, as you took so many bright flowering young men at Khe Sanh, at Langdok, at Hill 364. These young men gave their lives. And so would Donny. Donny, who loved bowling. And so, Theodore Donald Karabotsos, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean, which you loved so well. Good night, sweet prince."

Even the f**king trees have beards