With Great Beard Comes Great Responsibility

Grinds My Beard

Apparently bearded men are seen to be more aggressive than their baby-faced counterparts?

I personally identify as a reasonably sophisticated guy. I’ve been running my own business for a while, I drive a soccer mum car, and I steer clear of wine that retails for less than $20 a bottle.

Are my characteristics really synonymous with those of King Leonidas?

Whilst dreaming up ideas for my next big project (this exact zine) I was receiving a lot of attention from friends, acquaintances and past colleagues. I’d recently been through a tough time and they were all open to offering me an ear.

I took them up on their offers, stroked my beard and shared my woes. I found comfort in their generosity and understanding, until I made a big mistake. It was a bearding tragedy.

My coffee landed on the table and it wasn’t in a takeaway cup.

The first sip saw my moustache plunging deep into the cocoa laden foam of a cappuccino. This was shortly followed by a deep breath through my nostrils, then a sneeze, and the rest is history.

I happened to be wearing a flannelette shirt and in a hulk-like rage, Lumberjack Doff was born.

Fortunately my newfound super (evil) powers were channelled towards the benefit of the greater good. “You know what really grinds my beard?” I asked those sharing my company, inspired by the Family Guy gag of similar name.

I noticed that I’d been moping around a little too much, it was time to embrace the beard and behold its power. In an effort to return an ever growing list of favours, I began lending an ear to friends and family as best I could.

Trivial bullshit gets people down and there’s copious amounts of it floating around our day to day lives.

I’ve come a long way these past few months and even though my life has been turned upside down, I’ve come to realise I like it better this way. Trivial bullshit no longer gets me down, it’s what gets me up every morning.

But I have to admit, I couldn’t have done it alone. Lumberjack Doff has provided me with an outlet. As a piss take on the aggression of bearded men, I’ve found myself taking notice of other people’s gripes.

Believe me, there’s shitloads!

I know what really grinds my beard, but what about yours? Have a whinge so I can selfishly don my flannel, boots and suspenders. I’ll take to your gripes with an axe and slanderous remarks.

Alter egos aside, I’m ready to embrace the ‘beard life’ and appreciate the fact that I’m no longer seen as a baby-faced, new age sensitive guy… With great beard comes great responsibility.

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(Perhaps a spartan warrior costume is in order…)

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