I’ve worn a beard for about 17 years now, not counting one horrible week following a misguided attempt to “update my look,” only to discover that I’d, ahem, put on a few pounds since I was last bare-faced. Let me tell you, I wasted no time at all re-growing my time-tested fuzzy accoutrement. I probably would’ve grown it back anyway, though, even if I didn’t need the camoflage for my unfortunate double chin, because I just plain like it. I think it lends my face some character, and, in my mind at least, it signifies both my masculinity and my individuality. And it doesn’t hurt that The Girlfriend likes it, too.

However, it hasn’t always been easy to be bearded here in arch-conservative Utah, where the preferred look of the predominant cultural group (that would be the Mormons, kids) is decidedly unfuzzy. Before I made a love connection with the current Girlfriend, I heard from more than one young lady that I was not suitable dating material because of the beard, and I also know that I’ve lost a few job opportunities because I refused to shave it off. Some would call my defiance of the local norms foolish vanity, but I’ve never understood why, if you keep it clean and trimmed short (as I do), so many straight-laced people find facial hair repellant. (Incidentally, I really dislike the term “clean-cut,” because it suggests that its opposite — i.e., bearded or otherwise hirsute — is unclean, complete with all the moral intimations that word carries.) And so I have soldiered on through the years, convinced of my own righteousness and determined not to let The Man force me into drab conformity. I’ve persevered long enough that the beard has largely ceased to be an issue for me — I’ve finally found success in love and work without having to compromise my self-image — but it would’ve been so much easier if I’d had some kind of support group. Perhaps even an entire web site dedicated to the proposition that beards are cool. But surely there couldn’t really be such a thing out there on the vast, vast Internet… could there?

Well, duh…

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the title of this entry comes from an old George Carlin routine called “The Hair Piece.” It’s reproduced for your amusement below the fold…

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At first glance, this story looks pretty funny, just the sort of weird news item I chuckle over a dozen times a day: a would-be Good Samaritan, hearing sounds that he thought came from a woman being raped, armed himself with an antique sword and burst through the door of a neighbor’s apartment ready to face an attacker, only to find that there was no woman. The only occupant of the place was another guy watching a porno DVD all by himself at a ridiculously high volume.

Big laughs, right? So it would seem…

Then I read the coda: the not-quite-a-hero is being charged with three criminal counts, and his sword — a family heirloom, no less — has been confiscated by the police. I can’t believe this situation, an obvious (and funny) misunderstanding, couldn’t have been resolved during a 10-minute conversation between the two men and a cop as intermediary. Instead, it’ll now be dragged through the already-clogged legal system and a guy who was only trying to do the right thing faces jail time. Yeah, the screaming turned out to be nothing, but maybe next time it’ll be the real thing and passersby will choose to ignore it instead of risking this guy’s fate.

Everybody in this country needs to take a deep breath and chill the hell out…

I don’t follow basketball and I wouldn’t know Tim Hardaway from Tim Conway, but apparently he is taking some heat for bluntly admitting in a radio interview last week that he has a problem with gay people. That’s not an unusual attitude in our society, of course, and you can even make an argument that Hardaway is to be commended for his honesty. I, for one, would certainly defend his right to say whatever’s on his mind no matter how ignorant. But he should be prepared for the consequences:

Sulu rocks…