Problems Solved

By most accounts - some could even argue by all accounts - my life is far from successful. My problems are many and varied. I am with out gainful employment. My hairline is receding. I live with my parents. I have no luck with women - this, of course, could be a result of the rest of my problems. I am very clumsy, often annoying, and love bad hair bands of the 1980's - however, I can't stand good hair bands of the 1980's, although I can't say I've ever heard of any.
 
Now, I am aware that I do have some good qualities. Those with an incredible gift of perception may even be able to notice some of them. I am fairly well read, more or less intelligent and occasionally amusing. I'm a good listener, in many ways unselfconscious, and I make great omelets. Also, I love bad hair bands of the 1980's.
 
My major problem, I have decided, is that I lack a certain force of will, strength of commitment, courage, intestinal fortitude, balls, etc. I live too much of my life inside of my own head. I lack the strength, desire, or bravery to move ideas out of the intellectual realm and into the physical, everyday realm. I cannot realize my full potential, because - through either fear or apathy - I cannot make myself fully responsive to the world at large. I need to move beyond myself. Take the strength of my mind and apply it to the world. I need to develop my intellectual and social courage in much the same way I have developed my body from flabby to almost ok. I need to gain some strength. I need machismo. I need to jump out of my seat, run out into the street with the crazed look of a blind man who can suddenly see. I need to experience and I need to do. I need to grab life by the lapels, shake it around, and generally make it my woman. In short, I need a mustache.
 
Ah, yes, the mustache: the facial hair of the man of action. Mustaches practically breath decisiveness. Quick, think of the mustache. Who comes to mind? Clark Gable. Magnum PI. Rollie Fingers. Cowboys. Every hero of every 70's cop movie or television show. Barber shop quartets. Porn stars. Groucho Marx. Every state trouper. All men of action. Men who know who they are, know what they want, and get it. That is the power of the mustache.
 
So, is it any wonder that I, weak willed as I am, long for a mustache, would treasure a mustache, would comb it thrice daily, would wax the ends into intricate curly-Q's. I quake with desire for a mustache. I have started growing one. I picture it in my minds eye, thick and full, flowing down the corners of my mouth, covering my upper lip in a luxurious facial hair canopy of manhood. I see myself on job interviews, employers falling all over themselves to have me be a part of their company. "By George," they'll say, "just take a gander at that magnificent mustache. We must employ that man. Quick get the benefits package together." I can see myself at the bars and the clubs. I can see the women swooning over me. "By George," they'll say, "look at that mustache. He is clearly more man than the rest of these bare lipped fools. Quick, we must go lavish feminine attention upon him."
 
I am growing my mustache. It is currently little more than stubble at the moment. I am sure that I will have to withstand the horrible, 'I think a caterpillar died on your upper lip' stage of mustache growth, the stage which most men cannot progress past. I know that some people are going to sneer and mock my mustache. "By George," they'll say, "You look like a pervert (or a pedaphile, or a member of the village people, or Teddy Roosevelt)." I can handle this. I will simply laugh it off, because I know - deep down I just know - that mustaches are kick ass, and those losers are only jealous of the power and the majesty that is the mustache.
 
I also know that some people are skeptical. Not so much toward the power of the mustache - which is undeniable - but toward my ability to handle responsibly the greatness of the mustache. These people may argue that you must first have the mustache attitude then the mustache follows naturally. That to grow the mustache and then hope for the attitude is a fools errand. "By George," they are probably saying, "this chap's mustache will surely wither and die upon his lip. The attitude predicates the mustache, not vice verse." Now, this is a very interesting question. It has a number of philosophical facets dealing as it does with issues of causality, individuality, and personality. So, I must be careful in addressing this objection. However, I feel that I am up to the challenge. So, to these people I say: EAT IT!! I'm growing a mustache and that's all there is to it. The mustache is going to be kick ass and so am I. If you losers can't handle that, you better shut up and get out of my way. Because, by George, I'm growing a mustache and I'm coming through. There is no stopping me now. Nothing can stand in the way of the mustache. Nothing......Unless, of course, my mom doesn't like it.
 
Shalom