I almost cut off my beard. I had become weak. I was starting to listen to my friends. It's clear it isn't popular. Whereas I used to get suspicious looks for having long hair when I entered a store, restaurant, or gun shop, with the beard I'm actually close to being tasered on sight. Mutterings about chain saws, about looking like I'm on drugs, all such wonderful comments from people who have, unknowingly, now opened themselves to me commenting on them.
But I won't. You see, I have manners.
Still, I came home today, went into the bathroom, and took out the scissors. And stood there, and put the blades to my beard.
Then I remembered.
And I put the scissors down.
If it's good enough for them--and Vikings--it's good enough for me.
4 comments:
I like The Beard.
It's very Middle Earth. In a Viggo Morgenstern kind of way.
Jesus, don't cut the frakking beard!
Dye it purple and white and I'll nominate you for a honourary doctorate of laws from UWO.
Your lack of faith disturbs me. Next time call me when this happens again.
By the way, did you get that book from me?
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