Memorandum

To: All Men

Subject: Beards (or, “The Alluring Savage”)

Gentlemen,

A friend recently shared an article unfolding the copious benefits of growing facial hair, all carefully researched facts gleaned from strict scientific experiments involving mannequins in Australia (http://www.realfarmacy.com/beards-keep-you-young-healthy-handsome-says-science/). The fascinating article brought to mind a subject that has been, well, on my mind, it being that time of year—post-Christmas photo, pre-New Year resolutions—in which men around the globe gingerly pull out and dust off an old desire dear to their hearts: growing a beard. Once upon a time when we were very young and skinny and short, we men did secret happy dances in the bathroom upon the discovery of the first quivering chin hair. If we were lucky, the first was accompanied by a supporting second or third—not luscious enough to braid Viking-style, one understands, but regardless, the moment sparked a proud march out of said bathroom that lasted until the crossing of one’s sister in the hallway. The grating peals of laughter that immediately accompanied her first horrified scrutiny put us off our facial hair until we were old enough to vote.

Now, however, we are adult. It is time to put the painful past out with the empty eggnog cartons. It is time to Grow a Beard.

Fellow man, you may protest that the Significant Female in your life would have a cow. Or, not having a S.F. in your life, you moan that The Beard would draw women to you with all the attraction of the wrong ends of a magnet. What you do not realize, Miserable Chump, is that all women are, in the depths of their hearts, batty about beards.

“How so?” you exclaim. “Are you potty, Post? Under the tree only yesterday sat an electric foil shaver from Hammacher Schlemmer with my name under the To and hers under the From.” Allow me to enumerate.   

Contrary to the views espoused by our enlightened media, women do not want men to look and act like women. Tight clothing, flapping hands, and ironic, simpering giggles do not, in the end, Cut It. Women like men because men are Different. Although women wave their arms and scream about gender equality, that is merely because they want your job, or they don’t want your job but want to be able to have your job should they for some reason change their minds and want your job, after all. It is not because they want men to be like women: there is a world of difference between their wanting women to act like men and wanting men to act like women. The former is none of our business; let the latter, conversely, never occur.

Gentlemen, my position stands in unreserved support of the Civilization and Cultivation of Men, the Refinement of their Tastes, the High Quality of their Socks, the Sophistication of their Manners. We must, however, acknowledge the fact that, in the end, there is only the Cave Man. The savage that is you is what rings true in the hearts of women—they hate that you walk around the kitchen in muddy boots, but secretly thrill that it didn’t occur to your manly embarrassed self to take them off. This curious phenomenon manifests itself most readily in conjunction with male facial hair.     

Consider your position: There you are Christmas evening, your shaved, suave self, clad to the nines in polished shoe and shining tie. The heart of your Significant Female flutters appreciatively—what a civilized, nice fellow. What she doesn’t realize is that it is already Too Late; under your shiny shirt front you have already taken the first step towards reasserting your Male Independence. You turn up the next day mildly bristly. Busy man—he surely forgot to shave. Halfway to New Year’s the surprising fact has dawned on her that you Are Not Shaving. You are growing a beard. Your S.F. may startle, bluster, even protest. But underneath that flustering exterior your S.F. is impressed by something that failed to overwhelm your sister so many years ago: you can create something on your face by pure inactivity. Merely because you want to do so, you can Grow a Beard. You choose to grow one because You Are Savage. And, darn it, if the Wheaties aren’t out on the counter for breakfast tomorrow morning, you’ll know what to do about it!

Her heart will throb. You wear the beard that wins.

Gentlemen, regarding your face this winter I present my most humble advice, wishing you and yours a blessed Christmas season and joy-filled New Year while remaining

Yours, &c.,

Joe Post