My Boycott Of Good Taste

I think that technology has peaked. It appears that there are no possible advancements left to make. At least that’s what razor advertisements have led me to believe.

About six years ago, there became a distinct new trend in the way they try to sell razors to men. It went from “if you shave, you’ll be swimming in pussy” to “Never in the history of mankind has any invention EVER been as revolutionary as this.” Essentially, razor companies are telling you that before their latest product, man was squatting in caves, masturbating furiously and eating bugs.

The change coincided with the release of the first shaving implement that had three blades. I sort of tune out when these commercials come on now, but from what I gather, they’re now up to 79 blades.

“The first 12 trim hair, the next 23 smooth cartilage and ligaments, the next 21 cut bone, while the remaining 23 manicure brain and spinal chords for the closest shave in history. Gentlemen, welcome to ‘The Guillotine.’”

I don’t mind that people are innovating, but come on. I think we’re overselling the evils of facial hair. I remember when I first saw advertisements for the “Mach 3.” The actual line that they used in the commercial was, “Our team of scientists has completed a breakthrough.” THEY ADDED ANOTHER BLADE TO AN EXISTING PRODUCT. It’s the equivalent of adding soap to a rope. Under what conditions do you imagine they’d need a “team” of “scientists”? I can see it now: 20 scientists in lab coats huddled around a blackboard.

“Now I know we should add something to the razor, but what?”

“Sandpaper!”
“Herpes!”
“Tapeworm!”
“Rotting cod!”

The commercials would ordinarily be enough to launch me into a boycott of the entire shaving industry. If I had the capabilities, I’d be walking around like the fourth member of Z.Z. Top. Unfortunately, I have the misfortune of being facial-hair retarded. I’m 26 and I STILL don’t have to shave anything from my bottom lip to my neck. Basically, when it comes to facial hair I can grow bitchin’ Mutton Chops or nothing at all. I may have no chance of understanding fashion, but I’m not ready to completely give-up and start dressing like a Dickens’ character…yet. On the other hand, the four bladed razors have been in stores for a good year and a half now. When they release the fifth blade, I may have to take my anger out on myself and the general public. I’ll just resign myself to having strangers come up to me on the street asking for more gruel.

Men are all blind to how bad their facial hair looks. A man could have the skankiest, ugliest, scraggliest child-molester mustache in the world and he’d still think he looked good. Come on, you KNOW Hitler thought he looked like a pimp.

For example, I was walking through the mall with two of my friends. We’d been ambling around for a while before one of them commented, “You know, we’ve been hanging out all afternoon and neither of you guys said anything about my mustache!”

I replied, “You mean you’re doing that on purpose? I just assumed you were letting yourself go!”

Hey, what are friends for?