Mustaches. What was once a sign of a man or a cowboy or a rock star or a creeper in the night, has now become a symbol of bro brahs everywhere trying to make something awesome and natural into something lame and idiotic, similar to Ragnar.
Movember’s slogan is “Changing the Face of Men’s Health”. Which isn’t bad, although I feel like it should have “into something that makes people not want to care about men’s health” at the end. Yeah, that seems to be mo accurate. Did you see what I did there? It’s a terrible pun, and their website is full of them. It’s quite clear that someone’s job was to look over the copy and insert “mo” into everything.
Moustache becomes mo.
November becomes Movember.
Bros (which is terrible by itself) becomes mo bros
A mustache isn’t a tool. It’s not some fad that you dedicate one month of your sorry existence to. It’s a way of life. I grow a mustache because I’m a man, not because I care about men’s health. It’s the opposite.
I actually don’t care about men’s health. When you have a mustache, you learn to accept certain things about life. Some of us will go bald, like Scott Hall and myself. Some will lose a testicle in a terrible rappelling accident. Ryan, that sucks. Seriously. I hope you can still have kids. Others will lose a testicle because of testicular cancer, but then will win the Tour De France 7 times, only to have all of their wins taken away because they got caught cheating and used the lame excuse “everyone was doing it”. Cough cough, I was referring to Lance Armstrong cough cough. Bummer. For those of you who have incorporated the beard and mustache into your daily lives, you get it, and nothing will bring you down.
I have a mustache, not because I want people to be aware that men need to be scared of cancer. I grow a mustache because I’m telling cancer to go choke on a giant bahama mama from Maverick. I also grow a mustache because when I go to Maverick and choke down that same bahama mama, I don’t want people looking at me, and that’s exactly what a mustache does. It instills fear into people so that they won’t look you in the eyes. And if they do, that same mustache will give you the courage to punch them in the throat. Hard. A 100% punch, not a 50% punch.
Don’t stare at me for eating a delicious cancer inducing hotdog. Why don’t you go square up in front of a mirror and stare at yourself with those beady judgmental eyes. I’m sure the taco bell you ate for dinner is burning a hole in your rectum. Like I even care what you think.
Anyway, all this talk about taco bell and bahama mamas is making me hungry.
For those of you taking part in this movember nonsense, when you find yourself standing in front of the mirror at the end of November, with a razor in hand, just remember this. . .
It’s the mustache that makes the man, not the other way around.