Well, there's a few things I must say, which is why I have an online journal or "weblog." See Stucco, there ARE more tasteful and decent terms than "blog," although most people will look at you funny when you use said terms. *shrug* It's all up to you.
Now then, now then, now then, wot's all this? Another moustache post? You betcher 'tash it's another moustache post. If I'm gonna have go to through my midlife crisis by growing handlebars well then by gum you're gonna have to come with me, each and every one of you.
I really wanted to address this comment out in the public field because I think very highly of Hannibal and because she summed up a few thoughts in my head quite nicely when she commented thusly: "I guess you're the only person I know who could carry that off. What does the wife think of it?"
Two marvelous questions, and I shall answer both in semaphore. No, wait, I'd have to sign up for YouTube for that, and I refuse to make a German Spectacle of myself. MySpace is as far as any decent, right-thinking gentleman should go.
I've always wondered when people compliment me(?) on my habit of always wearing a hat (and no, not a baseball or a meshback, a fedora or at very least one of several Kangols) in public, or for that matter, whenever I'm outside. Seems that these days to wear a fedora or a handlebar moustache (or both) in public takes a certain kind of personality, and I have to wonder about that.
I've always been absurd, you see. Have been since I was a wee tadger, as a defense mechanism. If I was going to be abused by my peers and generally thought of as weird, then by my stars and garters, (my reasoning went) I was going to shoot the Moon. Wearing a fedora does not take any certain kind of face, as I've been told, or any kind of attitude. It simply takes you going out and buying a fedora and wearing it, and not caring what people think of you. Same goes with the moustache, or owning and smoking a pipe when you're only 20 years old (almost two decades ago,) or to have multiple genital piercings. No wait, scratch that. I'm holding that option for my 50th birthday celebration.
Granted I'm always flattered when I'm told that it takes someone like me to do something, but honestly, it's nothing special, it's just a refusal to take Life too seriously. Heck, mine is half over, it's too late to start getting all somber and gothik now, isn't it?
As for the second question, no, the wife isn't wild about it. She keeps giving these rather violent, involuntary jumps when she first sees me in the mornings, especially after I've groomed it into shape with a palm-full of pomade, but I'm hoping this wears off soon, as I have great plans for this upper-lip broom. I will say this--she gave me some well-defined grooming tips this morning concerning how I conduct my beard trimming technique, in a fairly well-meaning tone of voice. The first step to success!
I also wanted to let Autumn over at Perfection On A Curve know that I feel for her in her time of Laundromat suffering, and am mailing her a largish bag of quarters, for feeding The Beast. I may gripe about laundry but I am blessed with a cramped, overheated, nonventilated utility room containing a washer and dryer, for which I'm both thankful and seemingly always in debt to Lowe's to the tune of a couple of hundred bucks.
Vulgar Wizard, I have to let you know that I have no distinct plans for using the excess wax for any other handlebars, but the idea did occur to me one morning while shaving my never you mind.
As for the rest of you, thank you again and always for your loving and sometimes critical support of me and my doings and goings on, and for my continued rapscallionisms. Without you, well, I'd be a pretty darn lonely rapscallion. And O, I put that little tidbit in there just for you--anyone who owns a bookstore of ANY type deserves all the good PR they can muster. Books are irreplacable, and I think I shall return to my new John Varley book post haste and ad hoc and in corpus mentos (Latin for a cadaver with fresh breath.)