Completly serious musings on beards and bears

The odd thing about beards is that throughout history, most men from the classiest gentleman to the least classy roughman have chosen to shave their chins and thus have the face of a tiny child. Meanwhile, the beard has always been a sexy option that provides ample advantage in day to day life. One can keep small objects in one’s beard, it insulates the face against extreme cold, a long enough beard can be used as a jumping rope for eight children or three adults. And as previously mentioned, they are extremely sexy. Nine out of people surveyed said that seeing a fine beard makes them feel both romantic and fluttery.

So why do so many men lock themselves into a cold and smooth prison of beardlessness? Perhaps they don’t think they can take on the awesome responsibility of having a beard. As a bearded individual, I am often called upon to suplex errant bears that wander into town. I once saw a beardless body builder attempt to suplex a bear. The bear’s hair had been dyed indigo and braided by the only sorority at the local community college. Bears prefer a less ostentatious style, and thus this one had gone slightly murder crazy. Although the bodybuilder (We’ll call him Mike because that’s his name) was capable of lifting 700 pounds with one arm, he had recently shaved his entire body (including his face) for a weightlifting competition.

Mike squared off against the bear, and the bear broke off into fits of bear laughter upon seeing this mammal with so little hair on its snout step to him. I’ll spare you the gory details, but Mike now has to use his legs as his arms and vice versa. Upon seeing this brazen display, I charged at the bear, shouting the secret Beard Oath as I ran. I wrapped my arms around his fuzzy belly, clenched my butt (for balance), and leapt backward, heaving the bear over my head with such force that it cracked the asphalt where I slammed his dome into the street. Dazed and frightened, the bear struggled to stagger back to his paws. He looked upon my flowing face follicles and was filled with nearly eldritch despair. The bear turned and sprinted into the nearby woods. As luck would have it, a celebrity was doing a thing nearby, so no cameras had been available to chronicle the event.

In any case, I do believe I’ve nailed it. People simply lack the gumption to perform complicated pro-wrestling moves on an unwilling bear. So instead of taking on the rugged powers of the bearded, they spend their merger money on can after can of shaving cream and embrace smooth-faced obscurity.

Or something like that.