It is November and I am once again observing the long-standing 1Relatively speaking. tradition of demonstrating my inability to grow a beard in thirty days. I shaved my goatee off in the wee hours of the morning on 01 November and my razor has been resting comfortably since. Unlike last year I have opted not to shave my burgeoning neckbeard, despite the strange compulsions it seems to create. 2The toaster lives in fear that I will attempt to replace it with something running an open source operating system.
What began four years ago as a spoof of National Novel Writing Month—with no purpose other than showcasing buffoonery and a certain amount of chest-thumping—has since evolved into a month-long quest; a quest known as Beards4Boobs.
Perhaps if we were all Chuck Norris, we How Not To Grow A Beard Month participants could combine the awesome might of our beards to cure breast cancer. As it stands, there isn’t a Norris among us, so we must use our buffoonery and chest-thumping to coerce people (whether out of respect, awe or pity) to sponsor our beards, thus supplementing our meager follicular might with cold, hard cash; cash that will be used to fund research to find a cure.
If you’d like to assist my humble beard in this noble effort, please visit the site and sponsor me. If you don’t care to sponsor me, please visit the site and sponsor someone else. While you’re there, enter the Name That Beard contest and you just might win a signed copy of Christopher Moore’s Bite Me: A Love Story, the third volume in the San Francisco Vampire Trilogy. I’m not promising anything, but if you check back in the second half of the month it is entirely possible that there will be another contest and another prize; you can probably figure out what the contest might be, but the prize will not be so easy to guess.