The Sideburns' Last Stand

On a fine morning of April, that valiant warrior of a month which enlists even the heavenly showers in its mission to "pierce the droughts of March to the root," I awoke to the reassuringly baritone voice of NPR's Robert Siegel blaring on my radio clock. Only a British accent can lend a voice as much credibility as being three octaves lower than normal does. This blog of male readers will understand the rejuvenating effect such a voice must have on a mind groggy after staying up way too late playing Halo doing homework.

Peering into the bathroom mirror, I realized that I had a problem. My sideburns were downright bushy.

Sideburns should never be bushy. You can wear jeans for two weeks straight and get away with it (I have), you can carefully wipe your fingers on your socks without serious consequences (or so my uncle tells me), and you can even shave all your hair off like a wannabe swimmer and not look totally dumb. But whatever your blunders in the way of hygiene or appearance, don't ever for the love of Elvis Presley mess up on your sideburns! Sideburns make the man. They are manly. In fact, despite what some people think, most women don't even have them. Grow your sideburns too long, and you'll look like a failed Taliban who wants a beard but can't quite manage. Cut them off completely and you'll look—shorn. Like a suited scrivener who's too meek to venture into the bold land of real whiskers. (Apologies to certain individuals out there who are at this moment angrily protesting.) And blond, unshaven peach-fuzz burns are the worst of all.

Now, there was a good reason my sideburns were a little unkempt. My barber down the street is not the kind of person I like to visit more than I need to. Not that he's a Sweeney Todd or anything. That would be cool. A creepy, exciting, mysterious monster of a barber would make a haircut worth the thirty dollars that haircuts cost in our degenerate age. But this barber is just a run-of-the-mill, sleepy chatterbox whose head is shaved to about a half inch of graying growth, and who is fond of garrulously and affably rambling about any subject from sports to politics to how he pirates the most awesome stuff on the internet and has a mega CD collection that he downloaded for free onto his quad-core computer with a terabyte hard drive. I'm not jealous; in fact I am quite happy for him. I hope his computer has a long and satisfying life and that he thoroughly enjoys it. And then I hope it blows up his house.

Just kidding. Did I mention that he doesn't have sideburns?

I, on the other hand, do have sideburns. I have stronger, healthier, sideburns than most people. My virile hair does not grow "very slowly"; in fact, it sprouts up faster than the kids in that family your mother hasn't seen in five years. ("My, how little Jonny has grown! I just can't get over it! *pinch embarrassed sixteen-year-old's cheek*) When I looked in the mirror, my sideburns were of moderate length, but way too thick and positively rebarbative.

Being a resourceful fellow, I knew exactly what to do. Out of my shelf came an electric shaver. Out from the shaver popped the trimming attachment. And I set to work shaving off just enough hair to thin out my burns and polish my already dashing appearance. But alas! My hand is not so steady as I thought it was.

Ten minutes later, I stood in the mirror staring at my vanished glory. To repair the slip, I had been compelled to remove every last whisker from my jaws and cheeks.

Of course, it will grow back soon. But after a few days, I am finding that a smooth, clean image really suits me. In fact, I'm not sure why anyone would want those scruffy strips of bristle running down his face.

Proof

On the Aerodynamics of Hair

This post is in response to a request from Frederic, who is a gentleman (as well as a scholar) known for combing his hair in the shape of a fin.

What do aviation engineers, swimmers, and race car drivers have in common? They all appreciate the importance of aerodynamics. Aerodynamics involve the travel of liquids and gases across a surface. Poor aerodynamic design means high drag and high friction, which make plane trips more expensive and slow down swimmers and racers.

But maybe people don't realize the effect of aerodynamics in their day-to-day lives - unless they're in a strong wind and feel themselves being pushed over. Aerodynamics effect you every time you get up to walk by increasing the effort it takes to move. If your profile isn't sleek, air will push against you rather than slide past you, meaning you aren't walking efficiently.

I realized this one day when I walked up a flight of stairs. As I lay gasping for air at the top, I realized that I was not doing everything possible to reduce my effort load. My hair (which had grown quite nicely since that unfortunate incident last year, thank you) was really slowing me down.

Now you'll remember that I vowed (after said unfortunate incident) never to cut my hair again. I had stayed more or less faithful to my vow. I tend to stay more or less faithful to all my vows. More or less. Note the word less.

Moving on.

By now, my hair was almost where I wanted it. Another month or two and I could have tied it behind my neck and been all: "Look at me. I'm awesome." But I decided that fashion choice wasn't nearly as important as aerodynamics. The hair had to go! And I had other reasons, too - the desire to have some sort of jarring physical chance to separate myself from 2007 (which, for those of you who are new to FCN, was a tough year); the lack of a mental filter to control my impulses; running out of hair gel - deep stuff like that.

So I wended my way to the old Vietnamese place at the corner. It took about five minutes to convince the barberette that I wanted it all off.

"Zero? No! No. Your hair so nice. And it so cold outside! You freeze. No. Really? All? [LAUGHS] Oh, no. But you so handsome now! Such nice hair. Shave it not handsome any more!"

Eventually she consented, and, after ten minutes and five different buzzing machines, my hair, which I used to be able to pull down to my mouth, was gone forever. I went to the nearest men's restroom expecting to have a good cry over the loss of my hair. Instead, I found I couldn't stop giggling. Losing the hair was a bit of a relief. It felt awesome. And I liked the way I looked. I decided that if shaving the head felt so good, there was no reason to stop.

An hour later, I had shaved my face, which had previously held a badly maintained Richelieu ripoff. Now I was getting aerodynamic. Bring the wind and the rain. My head wasn't going to stop it. But I figured that, having started, I might as well finish the job. Shaving my eyebrows proved harder than I thought. The eye reacts negatively to having something so close. It was kind of like putting contacts in your eyes for the first time. Only instead of contacts, it was a razor. But the final product was definitely worth it. I felt almost wind tunnel ready. There was only one thing missing.

So I shaved my eyelashes.

FCN Classic: Mike Winther Should Shave

This post was written as a plea to Mike Winther requesting that he remove his attractive but altogether inappropriate facial hair. It is republished here as a classic, only so that our plea might once again be noticed. I had the honor of seeing Mr. Winther a week ago, and his face was just as hidden. It was great to see him, but I couldn't help but be saddened by his facial hair stubbornness.

Mr. Winther: I'll go ahead and make you a deal. If you shave your beard and send me a picture of the finished product, I will remove my sideburns and send you a picture to show the results. That's how serious I am about this; C'mon Mr. Winther!

We all love Mr. Winther. He has lived competitive academic debate for the vast majority of his life and artfully leads students through the process of becoming better speakers. His debate prowess, intellectual integrity and good humor make him one of the most adored debate coaches in California, perhaps even the nation. Those who know him are not likely to forget his contribution; those who don’t are missing out. Despite his individualism as a coach, Mr. Winther has made one concession to popularity that is visible to even the most casual observer: Mr. Winther has a full beard. While there is nothing inherently wrong with wearing a beard -- Santa Claus wears a beard and nobody complains – there is something terribly clichéd about a debate coach hiding behind whiskers.

After some deliberation, the folks here at FCN sat down to state our objections to Mr. Winther’s beard in an organized manner. We don’t in any way intend to impugn this lovable debate guru, just promote a visit to the barber, a Fusion purchase or whatever method he likes to remove his facial hair. We also aren’t promoting a completely clean shaven visage. If Mr. Winther likes a mustache and goatee combination or wants to keep his sideburns, we’ll be happy.

Without further ado, here are 10 Reasons Mr. Winther should shave:

1) Abraham Lincoln wore a beard

The bastion of inconsistency, patriarch of situational ethics and wet noodle executive chose not to shave and sported some rather unruly clumps of facial hair. Lincoln’s beard wasn’t just on his face, it is on the penny; it's his trademark. His striking features were made even more impressive by the dark growth he refused to hold back. While Mr. Winther’s beard is nicely trimmed, the very fact that he wears a beard creates a mental link between a libertarian hero and pragmatist politics. Cut the link: cut the beard.

2) People you love want to see your face

Since Mr. Winther grew his beard he has started a debate club, had a child and changed careers. While we don’t know the exact period of time (he has covered his presumably beautiful face as long as any of us have known him), we can deduce from personal interviews with Mr. Winther and a family member that the period of facial disguise has been for longer than 10 years. That’s a long time to keep one’s face covered. No one wears a hat or a pair of socks for that long. Few keep the same hairstyle for ten straight years, much less a facial hair arrangement.

This isn’t a matter of style, but responsibility to loved ones. A child should be able to know his or her father’s face, friends should not have to read between the hairs when gaging someone’s sincerity and those Mr. Winther judges in debate rounds would really like a peak at his real face. Mr. Winther should cede to the understandable wishes of those around him and pick up a razor. Cut the frowns: cut the beard.

Please excuse the uncharacteristic sentimentality of the above paragraph; we wrote it while listening to Kelly Clarkson’s Because of You. Strange things happen when you listen to that song.

3) Mrs. Winther wants you to shave

We don’t know this for a fact. Mrs. Winther never said anything to us, but she didn’t have to. We here at FCN take non-verbal communication very seriously and it doesn’t take a degree to read the wistful remorse on Mrs. Winther’s face every time she glances at her husband’s visage. She would never mention it to anyone, but the feelings are there, burning deep inside her. As with all non-verbal messages, we can’t be absolutely positive as to meaning of these looks. But we’re pretty confident here. 90 percent.

4) To whom much is given, much is required

Let’s face it; God gave Mr. Winther a really nice face. From the limited information we were able to gather, he was once very handsome. That’s not to say that Mr. Winther is ugly now, just that he has made lifestyle decisions that limit other’s ability to enjoy his good looks. We feel that he has been given a responsibility to show off his face and that he is abandoning his duty when he covers his features. If someone were gifted in horticulture, he should try to use his skills to God’s glory. If someone has a penchant for mathematics, the rest of us can be benefited from the utilization of that ability. Mr. Winther has been gifted with excellent physical attributes to accompany his intellectual abilities. He doesn’t keep his mind covered; why shouldn’t he display his face?

5) You will look younger and healthier

The last time Mr. Winther had a clean shaven face, he probably looked at least ten years younger. If he wants to enjoy that feeling again, the razor is waiting. As far as looking healthier goes, it is an empirically verifiable fact that clean shaven men look more vigorous. Unless Mr. Winther has some kind of terrible skin disease or a persistent wart that needs camouflaging (an independently disproved question) he will look better without the extra hair. Look younger, look healthier: snip, snip.

6) The comfort of five blades, the precision of one

Razor technology has advanced to such an extent that shaving is no longer a hazardous experience. The new Gillette Fusion, for instance, allows a reasonably cautious man to get a really close shave without fear of nicks and abrasions. And, as the ad shows, it makes people like you more too. The fact is that the morning shave is no longer something to be feared. Experts and novices alike are perfectly able to navigate the razor over their face and remove even the thickest growths. If technology is holding Mr. Winther back, we advise a trip to the Modesto drug supplier to look at today’s shaving alternatives. And hey, if the whole razor scene is too scary, chemical hair removers and laser surgery are viable substitutes.

7) That’s gotta itch!

Some members of the FCN staff have tried to or are currently supporting facial hair. While none of us approach the complete coverage Mr. Winther has achieved, our experience is enough to teach us that goatees, sideburns and mustaches can itch! Due to our relative youth, many of our hair growth attempts have yielded pitiful fuzz instead of the manly bristles like Mr. Winther’s. But even our fuzz itches. We can only imagine the torment Mr. Winther must suffer every day as he must live through the ticklish spines on his face. The pain isn’t necessary!

8) You need to show Kyle how to shave

Mr. Winther’s youngest is becoming a man. Kyle is, indeed, attained the age of twelve and has consummated his years by debated at his first tournament. Facial hair will inevitably follow. It would seem very hypocritical of Mr. Winther to ask his son to shave while not doing so himself. Sure, Mr. Winther could set up a dummy or bring in a volunteer, but a shaving lesson is best accomplished with a mirror, a razor and two faces. Don’t leave your son in the five o'clock shadow: shave!

9) The biggest libertarian thinkers are all clean or mostly shaven

What do David Boaz, Edward H Crane, James A. Dorn, Chris Edwards, Thomas Firey and Daniel T. Griswold have in common? These libertarian thinkers are all clean shaven. Join the crowd: shave the beard.

10) Because you like multiple points

We threw this one in to satisfy Mr. Winther’s carnal desire to see a wealth of arguments for a position.

Shaving cream? What's that?

As you, the FCN faithful, already know, my facial hair situation was, if not dire, certainly untenable. As a side note, the previous sentence has more commas than any I've written in a long time.

Last Tuesday, an FCN reader presented me with a nifty two-bladed razor with a gorgeous red bow. The razor was dark blue, for those of you who were wondering. Later that day, a highly abusive and manipulative female forced me against my will to promise to leave a mustache and silk patch intact. I tossed the razor onto my very cluttered counter and went about my daily college student life. The next day, I had nearly forgotten about the whole thing.

Folks at school started calling me Shaggy. I was okay with that. Then they started calling me Scruffles. I was not okay with that. By the end of the week, they were calling me Chuck Norris, and I decided something needed to be done. My solution was decidedly non-Norris-esque. I went to the bathroom and broke out the razor.

The bow was tied on really well. I nearly busted a fingernail trying to untie it. After fifteen minutes of frustration, I gave up on the bow and started shaving. My manliness was offended. All I could see in the mirror was a gigantic ball of red ribbon streaking across my face.

I had already started shaving the left half of the mustache when I remembered my commitment. Oops. I shaved the right side to make the thing symmetrical and left it at that. The result was vaguely reminiscent of a famous 20th century German leader, but I thought nothing of it.

As it turns out, it was very convenient that I didn't have to shave in various places around my mouth, because the embattled razor went dull on me after only seventy minutes of shaving. I caught myself scrubbing the blades back and forth across my face like a toothbrush. Everyone who has used a razor and never employed the toothbrush method has secretly wondered what it's like. Now you're going to find out. At first, there's no sensation. You rub the shaved section and notice that it is now incredibly smooth, as if it's been sanded down. Then, after five to ten seconds, a light burning sensation starts to set in. After thirty seconds, it feels as if the whole scrubbed section is a gigantic patch of densely spaced shaving cuts. The real pain comes when you apply the aftershave. People have different ways of reacting to this. Mine was to scramble, screaming, through the tiny window over the shower and into the dog kennel twenty feet below.
The window was closed. Stress on the was.

I now have a patch of razor burn on my left cheek about the size of a post-it note. But my facial hair is properly corrected, and I look and feel respectable. My commitments have been met.

Now if only my homies would quit calling me Richelieu.

I've been framed.

Recently, an FCN contributor announced to the world that he was not shaving until we went to war with Iran. In an unsatisfying end to this dramatic proclamation, he decided two days later that we were now at war with Iran and is now walking around smooth as a baby. Sometimes, people come up and try to gently break the news that, while our relations with this Middle Eastern country are tense, they have not alltogether collapsed. They have thus far been unsuccessful in conveying the point.

The day before this fellow FCN contributor made the fateful pledge, I lost my razor. Nothing political or gallant about that. I just couldn't find it. I dug through the filth around my bathroom and bed for two hours trying to find it. I got really upset. I questioned the ancestry of the razor. I questioned the ancestry of the filth. I questioned the ancestry of the fellow FCN contributor. It was to no avail. The razor was gone, and I'm not the gogetum type who just goes and buys something new when he just KNOWS he's got something adequate hiding under the rug somewhere. And this isn't just adequate. It's a Gillette Fusion (Mr Winther take note).

But a lost razor does no one any good. I have now grown a very noticeable patch of stubble which itches like an old cast. A popular conversation starter for folks speaking with me is: "So are you the one who isn't shaving until we go to war with Iran?" "No, I'm not. I just lost my razor. You want that babyface over there."

This gets old. It also gets embaressing. You can see the admiration fade from the eyes of the questioner like the attention span of the average senator.

I once vowed not to shave until I played Halo 2. This led to a Samson-esque episode involving a pink razor and certain female members of my then speech and debate club. A year and a half later, I played Halo 2. The point is, the situation gets pricklier and pricklier with every passing moment, literally and metaphorically. It's crucial that I set the record straight. No, I'm not growing it out. Yes, I know how bad it looks. Yes, I'm trying to scare little kids away. No, this is not a political statement. Yes, I stepped on a rake.

And if you must help my kicking and screaming self, please, please bring shaving cream. I'll be in the men's restroom scratching if you need me.

Shaving Strike

I am going on a shaving strike; I am not shaving until we go to war with Iran.