Showing posts with label beards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beards. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Importance of Being Ernest

More proof that old men with beards have way more fun than you--photos from the Hemingway Lookalike Contest in Florida:


Not sure what the payout is, aside from a sexy little bust, but for my fans who may fit the bill, feel free to check out the official festival info here and gear up to participate in next year's lookalike contest--or the running of the bulls, marlin-fishing tournament ($25K top prize), arm-wrestling competition, or short-story competition.

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Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Grooming Tips!


Grooming Tip #1:

Shave your entire face or you will be too easily apprehended after you rob a convenience store.

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Friday, November 20, 2009

Lifestyle of the Rich & Filthy [Vol.1]


Good evening. Thanks for stopping by the company picnic. I thought it would be a more relaxing venue for what I want to share with you.

We here at Goodtime Charlie Incorporated (a subsidiary of G.E. Goldman Viacom Blackwater & Hathaway LLC) thought it might be wise, what with the embarrassingly abundant resources at our fingertips, to find a way to use all that information in an informative and entertaining manner.

So we started a new feature we'd like to premiere for you right now--it's called Lifestyles of the Rich & Filthy. It is to appear on a frustratingly irregular basis and only on the most discerning sites on the web, to best limit exposure to those who don't deserve it.

With that in mind, I reckon we should get started with the profiles--and why not start at the top?


Goodtime Charlie was born in 1887, on a riverboat outside Detroit, to a disgraced single mother who died in childbirth. Left to his own devices at an astonishingly early age, Goodtime had no choice but to rely on his cunning to survive.



By age 8, he had a law degree from Oxford, spoke six languages, published his second acclaimed book of poetry, and was advising Ohio Governor William McKinley daily on how best to move from the state house to the White House.



Yes, let's just go right out and say it--prayers for young Goodtime's sexual maturity occupied most of the day for the average American woman from 1895 - 1901.


In 1901, Mr. Charlie--now a prominent industrialist, philanthropist, and sexually-active acrobat--arranged for the assassination of his old friend, President McKinley, after the President failed to turn up for a duel arranged to settle their battle for the heart of a promising young Vaudevillian minx.



At 21, Charlie, richer than Midas and a proud father of seven, got bored with life among men and abandoned his family to sail around the world forever on a yacht he carved himself out of a single tree.


Aside from his fantastic beard, renowned sexual prowess, nudism, and the fact that he never ages, little else is known about the man himself.


Well, that's a lie--here are seven more tantalizing facts we know about the reclusive national treasure:

1. He is 122 years old and lives in the middle of the ocean, in a house he built with his own hands out of salvaged materials.


2. He works tirelessly in a top-secret research facility/lounge carved into a mountain on an uncharted island and controls the native population as a benevolent dictator.


3. Every time he gets behind the wheel he sets a new land-speed record in his highly-modified 1939 Bugatti 57C.


4. He's had many, many women over the years, including Brigitte Bardot in her prime.


5. He's written every hit song since Joplin--under an ongoing series of pseudonyms--and possesses the velvety voice of an angel.



6. His diet consists of naught save whiskey, wine, spring water, hand-caught lobster, and exotic sandwiches.


7. Although you will most likely never see him, or even figure out what he looks like, rest assured he will maintain effortless control of your hearts and minds merely for his own amusement.



Well, that's all for today, people of the world. Please be sure to tune in for our next installment of Lifestyles of the Rich & Filthy or the next time you encounter me it might look more like this:


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Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Paging Mr. Fur Face


Ever wanted your own commemorative gold pan? Enjoy fishing for salmon? Have your own beard stylist?

If so, then you should be extremely disappointed that the 2009 World Beard and Moustache Championships already happened without you.

And that's real too bad, because there was surely enough categories for you to win at least one major award.


Ever found yourself supine on the damp, underwear-strewn floor of your parents' basement, stoned halfway to Jupiter, temporarily blind from Video Game Overdose (VGO), idly sliding a Slim Jim back and forth through the gap in your front teeth, wondering with what the road to a championship is paved?

Well, then you're welcome:
[This year's champion David] Traver, who is 43 and works as a driver for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, got into facial hair competition locally about 10 years ago with the Mr. Fur Face competition during Fur Rendezvous. After that, he got involved with the South Central Alaska Beard and Moustache Club, which bid to bring the international championships to Anchorage this year -- beating out Liechtenstein.

With his beard stylist, Ledjha Carson, Traver months ago started brainstorming a beard shape that was "out of the box," he said. They considered eagle wings, moose antlers and a sled dog team before settling on the snowshoe. It took Carson 90 minutes to weave it the day of the competition.

"She wanted it right. She was very meticulous," he said. "But my neck is still stiff."

(courtesy Alaska Daily News)

So...I guess it takes not only the ability to grow facial hair, but also the common sense to hire a beard stylist to do all the work.

Huh. Maybe I should begin preparations for my victory in Trondheim 2011...any cutting-edge beard stylists out there wanna join Team Goodtime pro-bono?

Because I don't want to just think outside the box--I wanna turn that box inside-out and upside down, hammer it into a ninja star, launch it into the future to hone its edge on the stubborn skulls of space robots, send it back in time to let a dinosaur kiss it for luck, and then drop it on Norway like a goddamn neutron-bomb hangover-turd straight from the furious bowels of Thor himself!

LET'S DO THIS!!!

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