The Handlebar Club is a damn fine organization. We’re proud to support them.
This is a picture of my Pater Familius (on the right) and his buddy, sometime in the ’70s. Just partying down with their moustaches. It’s awesome.
It’s not easy. Thanks to Ectomo for this clip.
Of the many perils awaiting the gentleman of follicular distinction, our almost superhuman ability to party until dawn is undoubtedly among them. Have a safe and enjoyable Labor Day Weekend.
And as long as we’re on the topic of desert survival, it’s important to have a good soundtrack. In spite of the fact that this poor chap apparently has no moustache of his own, he does a good job of capturing the spirit of our people with this catchy ditty.
Grover Cleveland (March 18, 1837 – June 24, 1908) was one of the few US Presidents to sport a respectable moustache. With our current media frenzy surrounding the election, it is incumbent upon Moustached Americans to encourage their candidate to grow facial hair. No matter who you blame for our country’s woes, it is God’s own truth that it was caused by clean-shaven individuals.
A god, obviously. I have been unable to find any further information about this photo. However, I would dearly like to know who this man is so that I can send him a bottle of whisky. The one thing that he is missing in life is a drink in his hand.
The excellent online comic ‘Married to the Sea’ recently posted an item featuring an ettiquette lesson in the moustached lifestyle. Although I am disappointed by their spelling error in the word ‘moustache,’ it is my hope that you, gentle reader, are not so offended by their transgression that the humour of the item is lost upon you.
Frank Zappa (December 21, 1940 – December 4, 1993) was a prolific musical genius, performer, and composer. In addition, he possessed an eccentric sense of humour and a fine moustache.
I distinctly remember the first Zappa song that I heard. I was probably 14 or so, and came across a copy of his album ‘Apostrophe’ in my dear mother’s garage. The following lyrics made a deep impression on my young self:
“Watch out where the huskies go, don’t you eat that yellow snow. Watch out where the huskies go, don’t you eat that yellow snow.”
“What a smart fellow,” I thought. I wouldn’t have eaten yellow snow either. It was obvious that Zappa was a man whose opinion could be trusted.
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