November 20, 2014 - 8:16 AM
At the end of October I was reliably informed that the law now requires all males to grow a moustache in November, while the month itself has apparently been officially re-named by parliamentary decree to “Moevember,” “Moe” being a Japanese slang word for “adorably cute.” As one of Her Majesty’s most loyal subjects I have therefore been cultivating said strip of facial hair above my stiff upper lip.
It has been, and continues to be, one of the most irritating tasks I have ever undertaken as a law-abiding citizen, and not just because it makes me look like a retired 1970’s porno movie star. It’s like wearing a bottle brush below your nose: every twitch begets an itch. Worse, the weather has been freezing. I shall try and elaborate as delicately as possible: when the weather is chilly, the nose runs. A moustache acts upon this discharge much like the lint filter in a clothes dryer. When the weather is as cold as it has been recently, the resulting conglomeration freezes, and one ends up sporting on the front of his face what can only be described as a hairy snot popsicle.
Going indoors results in an immediate thaw, the unpleasantness of which can only be mitigated by dabbing at it with a Kleenex, whereupon it becomes Velcro and attracts little white balls of paper which are impossible to remove without taking a shower. This is in no way adorably cute.
As to why this torture is mandated, it apparently has something to do with “men’s health issues.” I do not fully understand why health awareness has to be so gender-related. I know we have different bits to those of the opposite sex (at least, that’s what Mary Jenkins told me in grade five) but surely the fact that men’s parts can go wrong too cannot come as a surprise.
“Men’s issues” generally strike me as being little more than an “us too” reaction to what we used to call women’s lib. There is even a charitable organization called the Canadian Association for Equality, or “CAFÉ” which is all about righting the wrongs done to us poor helpless chaps by those mean old gals. Naturally I shall be joining, and will relentlessly pursue a simple but essential eight-point agenda of men’s rights as follows:
1) We assert that the correct resting position for the toilet seat is up;
2) We shall never, ever be required to go to your family reunions;
3) Mending anything around the house shall result in us being brought a cold beer;
4) Next door’s adolescent shall be the only person to shovel snow from the driveway, no matter what price he demands;
5) The taking out of garbage shall be an alternating responsibility;
6) We demand acknowledgement that when it’s our turn to cook, KFC shall be considered a nutritious, wholesome dinner;
7) Hockey trumps chick-flicks – need I say more? And, finally,
8) We require this horrid Moevember law to be immediately repealed.
— The Grumpy Old Git believes, of course, some mens parts ARE more important than others
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