Dreaded Continuity

I can't seem to get away from this subject. Oh well. BZ has some amazing pictures posted if you don't want to, yet again, read about Brawny Man.

I took my Brawny Man post and unbloggified it for the first assignment for DT's non-fiction workshop. As you can probably tell, I added a lot. It was fun. You can also see that the text has been freed of my bloggie-style hyperlinks and pictures. It was an interesting process to unbloggify, to decide what to keep, what to add, etc. Big apologetic props to BM and BJ for the edit. It couldn't have been helped. This was supposed to be a serious "informative" essay. It didn't feel right to cite you guys--but if you somehow land government backing we'll have to talk.

Anyway, here's how it all came out of the unbloggifier:

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Bear Attacks Linked to Shunned Mustaches – Jared Mason

Where were you when you saw the new Brawny Man? What’s that? You didn’t know? They changed him. His rugged haircut: gone. His surveying eyes: gone. His frontier physique: gone. His mustache: gone.

They’ve replaced him with a meathead, a guy whose buddies probably call him Moose; he looks like any given line-backer. His eyes don’t survey the tree line on the opposite side of the valley, like the artist’s depiction of the original Brawny Man. The only thing the new guy’s eyes survey is the opposition’s coverage. He’s got a freshly-trimmed haircut, cropped short against his head. His hair would never get swept up in a light mountain breeze. Instead of a confident, strong jaw, the new Brawny Man has jowls, no doubt from too many dinners with his buddy, Hungry Man. And worst of all, His face is clean--not even a five o’clock shadow. Absolutely no mustache.

I rarely buy a product just because of its advertising. The two exceptions are Charmin--no other toilet paper company depicts their characters in the act (the Charmin Poop Bears® actually poop in the commercials, and only wiping with Charmin makes them smile with such warmth—but that’s another essay)--and Brawny because of the original Brawny Man. He has always stuck me as being very 70s. I’ve always admired Brawny for sticking with “dated” advertising. While other companies updated their products’ presentation with each passing advertising trend, Brawny kept their man, confident that his charm would continue to sell towels and napkins.

There’s more to my outrage than a company getting with the times. There’s a social issue at stake: The mustache is dying--or rather society is killing the mustache. I’m a fan of mustaches--there, I said it! And even I have been trained by the amorphous nature of fashion to disdain the ‘stache. Every time I see a mustachioed man in public, no matter how distinguished he looks, I’ve been brainwashed to think, “Wow. He still has a mustache.” Celebrities who were more famous for their mustaches than their life’s work have hung up their ‘staches: Alex Trebek, Tom Selleck, Cheech Marin, Geraldo Rivera, Burt Reynolds, even Sam Elliot (well, for a movie or two)--they’ve all lost faith in facial hair. It’s not their fault; it’s the pressure from society to shave their lips.

Brawny’s dropping the mustachioed Brawny Man is the latest act of discrimination. I call for an end to facial hairism! I call upon friends of mustaches everywhere who cry, "Do not go softly into that good night, mustache! Wait… you've got some chicken stuck up there. No, the other side. There! Ya got it!"

I could no longer ignore my uneasy admiration for mustaches in high school. Back then, there was a very visible, very public identity that I had to see everyday. I used to be a store manager at a Snyder Drug. Each day that I’d pass Brawny Man in the Household Cleaners isle he’d be smiling, but not necessarily looking at me, whereas most other product personalities bear their vision down on you, demanding your attention. No doubt Brawny Man could see me in his peripheries--any good woodsman has an expansive field of vision--but he always seemed to be scanning distant horizons, the potential adventures that lie hidden in far-off foothills.

My friend and co-worker, Danecek, and I would stand in Brawny Man’s isle, just-a-beholdin' his magnificence. I'd say, "Man, that 'stache is... It's magnificent!" Danecek would point at him after much thought and say, "That dude is tough." Hours would pass. Floors went unmopped. We took our inferiority frustrations out on hapless teddy bears in the alley out back. We made weapons from mop handles, shelf dividers, and discontinued garden claws. We rent many bears.

The moral? If we had been able to grow confident, magnificent mustaches like 'Stached Brawny Man, maybe we would have mopped with more conviction. He’s gone now, our once role model.

Has Brawny’s parent company, Georgia-Pacific, considered the consequences of their modernization? What about teddy bears? I highly doubt their advertisers gave much thought to them. Without a proper Brawny Man to make young men feel inferior, the teddy bear population will go unchecked. Three words: Feral Teddy Bears. Is GP prepared to deal with Feral Teddy Bears?

I researched. Nowhere in GP’s “Corporate Social Responsibility Report” does it mention any sort of F.T.B. Emergency Protocol. “Environmental protection is the responsibility of all Georgia-Pacific employees”--my eye.

I’ve got to imagine that Proctor & Gamble have an Enraged Charmin Poop Bear® Contingency Plan. Have you seen the commercials? Those bears are not happy without their Charmin. The least GP could do is match their efforts with whatever P&G are doing to ensure customer safety from bear attack, whether from F.T.B.s or animated poop bears. Please excuse the pun, but is it too much to ask that these companies do something to cover their asses?

The harshest consequence of society’s shunning of the mustache, however, is not the threat of bear attack. Think of the children--well, young men. Think of them! It’s difficult enough for young men to grow and maintain facial hair; societal fashion trends only confuse matters further.

In my case, college has taught me the skills to grow a proper beard, which is like the mustache's over-weight step brother. If brown is the new black, the beard is the new mustache. But it has been said that Beardos are just too lazy to shave, and that Beardos are “too timid for the awesomeness of mustaches”--you know who you are. Not cool, man.

Most guys feel that since their faces grow hair, they’re obligated to do something with it. They feel they’ve gained a new means of expressing their identity--and from a most unlikely source: their face. It’s a frightening power, to use one’s face to say, “Hey, this is my face! If you don’t like it, get your own!”

We genetically predisposed Beardos have inherited the great responsibility of easing young men into their obligation to express their face. This responsibility used to belong to mustachioed men but now, it seems, it is ours: The Bearded Man's Burden. Young men aren't always aware of what hair prowess their faces possess. How are they to be sure without testing the field? Let them grow beards until they decide what to do with their glory. Let them be brave and grow a beard. Perhaps in time they'll discover and accept their genetic predisposition to wear the 'stache.

In the meantime, we Beardos are a strong movement and loathe the persecution of our brothers, step or otherwise. We shall seek out other ‘stache-friends--some of whom have gone underground in fear of being ridiculed--whose dedication to the preservation of the endangered mustache will not, like their own raging mustaches, be shaved.

I call for an immediate, indefinite ban of all Brawny products until they bring back the 'stache. In fact, that should be our message; in sloppy scribbles on tag board signs, ready for picketing: “Fear the Bears! Bring Back the 'Stache!”

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Mace...out