A Sad Day for the Beard

Yesterday I woke up to the good news that some United States forces had captured this beard hiding out in a small hole in Iraq. The beard was like the mother of all asshole beards. Some say the beard had some hidden nuclear weapons. Others say the beard is an international threat. Some even say this beard executed his own people. I know nothing about politics, so I will not pretend to confirm or deny these allegations. Frankly, the beard looks like a fucking jerk of a beard to me, but who am I to judge, right?

On TV, every channel was running continuous footage about the beard. They would show the beard getting inspected for lice and bugs (the beard had been shower free for months apparently). Then they showed the beard getting its mouth inspected in some sort of purposely embarrassing dental ritual. You could even see constant camera flashes as the beard was paraded around and taunted, as if a live video feed wasn’t sufficient beardal documentation. And Frankly, I kind of enjoyed seeing the beard subjected to this kind of humiliation. Fuck that beard, yo!

Then this morning I woke up to some disturbing news. Little more than 24 hours after its capture, the beard was surprisingly missing. No comments were made by the press. No official statement by the president. No riotous uproars – neither hear or abroad. Just a few quietly circulated photos confirming what I find to be a horror:



The beard was assassinated.

Quietly yet savagely, the beard was completely wiped out.. Dejected, defeated, conquered crushed and overcome – the beard’s owner appeared as nothing but a shell of his former self. A reminder of the savage removal remains on its owner’s upper lip – a painful memento of the 9 months of dedicated growing that were washed down the drain at the hands of an over zealous United States soldier. And an electric beard trimmer.

Stories will surely surface defending the beard removal. Hygiene, comfort, identification – all will be touted as just cause for what I already know is an unjust execution. I've seen the media machine at work, but thankfully I’m brave enough to face the facts – my country is a beard murderer.

As I got out of the shower this morning and brushed my teeth, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My own beard was looking back at me with a look of hopeless confusion. Sad bewilderment. Quiet discontent. And for that one moment, me and my beard became one, and I could read his thoughts perfectly.

Some day that could happen to me. Please don’t let that happen to me.