Douche-ember

AS many of you’re a probably aware, last month lots of otherwise clean-shaven men grew moustaches to raise awareness of penile cancer. This project, allegedly designed to raise money for treating the cancer, is named Mou-vember.   Wait…. I’m being told it was for prostate cancer. Whatever- I’m highly aware of both now, and truthfully, always have been since about age 12.    At any rate, junk cancer is junk cancer as far as I’m concerned.   In reality, the main point of Mou-vember is to let guys grow ridiculous facial hair without interference from the authority figures that run their lives, namely their jobs and wives.  It’s pretty ingenious scam.

Sadly, as a budding authority figure and frequent media star myself, I could not take part in Mou-vember, which is a shame because I have a long tradition of growing obnoxious facial hair around the holidays. 

Here I am ruining Christmas 2011.

So I have decided to start my own tradition by growing luscious sideburns for a month to raise awareness of another of America’s greatest threats: how terrible hipsters and fashion conscious male d-bags are.  I call it Douche-ember.

After a few weeks of growth, the burns hit a point where they could no longer be politely ignored by friends and co-workers.  Not surprisingly- and as desired- reactions have been overwhelmingly negative. 

Here I am ruining our vacation last week.  

I look less like Luke Perry and more like an inbred Southern general, the one related to the Guvnor that they let command some division of drunken hillbillies even though they all know he’s incapable of anything more than a rear-guard action on the pack mules. 

How on earth did we lose the Civil War?  

But these are the sacrifices I make for the worthy cause of mocking others.   Hopefully, everyone who sees me will immediately want to go out and suckerpunch a hipster.   If so, the organic juice bar at Central Market is a good place to start.

Seriously though, I think the point of Douche-ember (to the extent there is one beyond getting a rise out of my wife) is to remind myself that I am an insufferable prick and to be thankful for the people who will have anything to do with me.    People like my wife and child, my family, readers of this blog, etc...    These burns are a constant physical reminder that despite whatever outward appearances I may try to maintain, on the inside, I am a terrible person, undeserving of any human contact, much less the love of such a beautiful wife and daughter.   When one is as beautiful and modest as I am, it's good to humble yourself with terrible physical afflictions like these sideburns just to keep things in perspective.   I am nothing if not self-aware.