the mustache effect

So I’ve been living in California now for almost 4 months and I’ve only been a part of the Air Force a little bit longer than that. First major observation about tech school? Mustaches. Yes, I’m talking about hairy upper lips (or for those still trying but less fortunate: disgusting upper lips).

You see, as part of the world’s greatest air power, most forms of facial hair are forbidden. Goatees are gone, soul patches stolen away, neck scruff… never to return. I think it’s because we’re more aerodynamic when we fly and/or march around without them. That’s just a theory though. Mustaches, however, are perfectly acceptable. something about wanting to look like Tom Selleck in a flight suit I suppose. Anyways, what happens when you tell a bunch of 18-20 somethings that they can only grow a mustache if it’s in regulations? They take it upon themselves to grow the gnarliest facial strips of pubes that ever existed outside of a Rogaine research and development testing wing.

Now I have nothing against mustaches, but I do have something against 13 fuzzy antennae growing above someone’s mouth with the only intention of collecting dust, dirt, and this morning’s half cooked biscuit crumbs. (well just one crumb, the hair is usually too feeble to hold anything more than a 10:30 am light snacking). A friend tells me that his mustache is actually protection against a young and disdainful marriage.*. It’s a valiant effort, but he’s using man’s best friend (and you though it was dogs, hah!) for nefarious purposes. I’m inclined to believe that even a shoddy ‘stache packs enough pheromones to slay an entire feminist rally. ( and I do mean slay with sweet, sweet love). I’ve told him that his plans might backfire and he will be very likely swept up in a hirsute tempest of a courthouse wedding with a 2 hour honeymoon (and probably no open bar! are you kidding me? i don’t want to be your ring bearer anymore, man.)

Everyday I walk by tens, if not twenties, of these aberrations! I can say proudly that I have not yet succumbed to the need of wanting to look like any dad from the 80’s. A good friend of mine once said that “With great power comes great responsibility, and that responsibility is to tend after your mustache and only grow one when the time is nigh!” Spider-Man said that to me just before I woke up in class the other day. Then I thought he said something in Chinese, but it was just my teacher asking me to translate something. That would have been really cool if Spider-Man could speak Chinese. Where was I? Oh yeah, and if you’re mustache is less than 20 follicles total, (and I’m not counting that one scraggly chest hair either airmen!) then for goodness sake just shave like the rest of us.

 

*I live at a place called DLI (known as the desperate love institute for various reasons. well actually one reason). Bright eyed, incredulously stupid, new service members seem to think that getting married to someone you’ve waved at twice is a great life choice. I’ll have more on this with a later post I’m sure.

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