Day 3.5 and Typology

So it’s been a full 3-days (work days) rocking the ‘ol (new) mustache, and already I’ve noticed some major changes in my daily routine / overall outlook on life / reason for being (in my mind, the hierarchy of life while wearing a mustache follows something similar to the aforementioned).

Hey! Have you donated yet? Wait you don’t want to? No worries whatsoever, just thought since we go way back, I mean waaayyyy back, that you might want to throw a buck or two (literally, you can donate only a buck! don’t feel like you got to bring the big guns to this gun show…). Just follow the pointed finger to my page-o-la:

But before I go into daily routine with mustache, I need to work through a few preliminary thoughts, let’s call it a “Preface”…

Let’s face it. When you think of mustaches you probably think of one of three “types”: A.) the Rollie Fingers, B.) the Mario or C.) the dad /grandpa / uncle / other extended-family member (possibly very Hungarian great-grandmother), fire fighter, local constable, accountant or general contractor / landscaper. Although each mustache has its own, independent merits, and subtle inherent flaws, I find the great solace in aligning myself with the “Mustache Cs” of the world.

“Mustache Type A” is the outspoken, confident ‘stache that gets rocked by your favorite athlete, anchorman or late-60s / Millennial drummer.  The amount of wax / product used on these mustaches is rivaled only by those visiting the Jersey shore after Labor Day.  These are lip sweaters that supersede practicality for the betterment of creativity (think the Jim Henson of modern-day-puppetry mustache).

“Mustache Type B” is your run of the mill cartoon mustache. Ned Flanders, Mario, Snidley Whiplash, GI Joe, Carl…Well, you get the point. Need I explain more?

Then there’s “Mustache Type C”.  These are the practitioners of the ordinary capable of the mundanely-extraordinary.  Think about it, when is the last time you woke up and felt like a modern-day Cousteau (point of clarification, Jaques did not don a mustache, he relentlessly fought his early B.U.L.D diagnosis…Bare Upper Lip Syndrome; he was the epitome of courage, never letting the early-onset diagnosis hinder his oceanic exploration), ready to jump your pickup truck over a car carrier in order to rescue a distressed madam or wounded bald eagle?  That’s what a mustache grants you:  an unrelenting will to do good and imagine, figuratively. Yes, today’s mustache was typically grown to emulate John Paul Jones (the bassist and revolutionary, not the pirate) and Tom Sellek, or to make some cheesy-ass jokes at inopportune times, but, today’s mustache is as American as stock car racing and jet lag. My mustache puts me in the ranks of the everyday guys; the guys who are your neighbors, friends and occasional drinking buddies.  We are the modern-day jack-of-all-trades; the poet mixed with jackhammer; the romantic mixed with Crusader.

I find great solace in the occasional head nod from my mustached-brethren; from both those who wear now and those who wore before me, the understanding that derives from wearing a mustache is as universal as the sky is blue.

More tomorrow…

Peace,

mjb

(Special thanks to the American Mustache Institute for the coining and clarification of B.U.L.D, a disorder that affects millions of Americans every year)