Recession Spawns New Growth: Beards

For the past few months I have been growing a beard uninterruptedly. I began this facial growth for a multitude of reasons: I'm lazy, it displays my non-conformity, it shields my face during winter and it's a sign of my pessimistic outlook on the chances of an imminent career promotion.

I have found that I am not alone in my last reason. The current economic downturn has given a rebirth to facial hair. I and many other men are growing what are called "Recession Beards." These are beards that some men grow if they have lost their job or are experiencing a lack of mobility in their careers. We start growing these recessionary beards because there is no better time to experiment with your appearance than when one is unemployed or locked into their current job for the foreseeable future.

The current recession is not good for much, but it has made beards fashionable again. Up until now there has been a lack of puberty when it comes to facial hair. The last president to sport a beard was William Howard Taft, 1909-1913. If I were President Obama's advisor, I would strongly urge him to grow a recession beard to show his support of the unemployed.

So, why did beards die off anyway? It is believed that during World War I soldiers were forced to shave to ensure gas masks fit properly. Shortly after, the film business became popular. Many of the films during this period were depictions of World War I. For the sake of authenticity, the actors wore crew cuts and were clean shaven, which made the clean-cut look popular.

This completely changed people's attitudes toward facial hair. The only beard that was popular during this dry patch was in the form of a Wooly Willy. Americans didn't see much facial hair again until the '60s when the counterculture sprouted and grew enough facial hair to make up for the bald decades before it. Ubiquitous facial hair was stunted again in the mid 1980s.

Beards haven't been prevalent since. During the 1990s, the only styles that had a remote popularity were the Goatee and the Van Dyke. Both of which were the diet or the lite versions of a beard.

Even though beards haven't been popular in traditional American fashion, they do carry a lot of significance in other cultures. If you grow a beard in some cultures, you are seen as respected, knowledgeable and as a member of high-social status. In other cultures, like America, you may be seen as filthy and unsuccessful. I think strangers look at me in both ways. Some have said I look like a professor. Others say I look like an unkempt vagabond or terrorist. I think I look like a manly gentleman who is proud of what his face can grow.

Each culture has some interpretation of what a beard means to them. In gay culture the term beard refers to a person of the opposite sex that you would take with you to an event to give the impression that you are heterosexual.

Whether you are using a beard as a way to hide something or as a facial character builder, almost every style has had its heyday. Even men with non-growth patches, which most men experience, flaunt their facial locks. One of my coworkers grew a neck beard (Neard), which looks exactly like it sounds. It was laughable and he knew it, but it was his recession beard and it is the only place his mug can grow hair. However, there are a few men, Henry Thoreau and Horace Greeley who wore the Neard proudly.

There are many styles that are much cooler than the Neard. Some of my favorites are the Handlebar Mustache, the Zappa, the Friendly Mutton Chops and the Dali.

No matter which style you pick or the reason behind the growth, you are sure to look more intriguing. Men, if you are one who likes to support a cause, grow a beard as symbolic support to the unemployed. It's like pasting one of those "support our troops" ribbons on your car, but it's free and not cliche. Ladies, convince your man to grow a beard. If he resists, tell him you will grow your pubes until he starts his beard. I am sure he won't be shaving for weeks. Welcome back, beards.

Cat Terrorizes Home

House pets are supposed to be enjoyable and comforting, but when I see a house cat I immediately think of how its claws are going to slice my eyeballs or my testicles.

Cats are one of the few things that trigger my fight-or-flight response. Not only are their claws dangerous weapons, but they are mischievous and sly, and they have a bad attitude. I wouldn't trust any human with these characteristics, let alone allow them to take residence in my home. I would have never married my wife if she ended every massage by clawing me like cats do.

Despite my fears, I decided to be a nice husband and get a cat for my wife for her birthday because she has always wanted one of these purring beasts. The cat we chose is black with piercing orange eyes that resemble a panther's. We believe he, Louis, is a mix of the popular Bombay breed.

Louis' acclimation into our home started off great. He stayed in the basement and I never had to deal with him, which is exactly what I wanted. When he first started to come around he was entertaining and likable. He and our dog would have showdowns, which usually entails 20 minutes of them staring at each other from a foot's distance until Louis would retreat back to the basement.

After a few weeks passed, Louis started coming upstairs more and more. He started getting comfortable and he started growing on me. Then his evil ways came out and he began terrorizing our home.

Louis lives a nocturnal life and he doesn't care about my sleep schedule at all. I often wake up to a crescendo of cat clamor, which I mistake immediately as someone breaking in with the intention to rape my wife. However, I lay awake for hours listening to a six pound cat throw chotckes off shelves, play with the microwave power cord, and break Christmas ornaments. His activities always lead to surprises in the morning.

One morning I walked into our living room and almost stepped on broken ornaments that he had strategically placed on the floor as if he were Kevin McCallister preparing for the Wet Bandits.

Another day, I couldn't find my wedding ring. I told my wife that the cat probably stole the piece of tungsten carbide that is supposed to symbolize our "circle of love." My wife said, "why would a cat steal your ring?" This is a reasonable response, but I know Louis is evil. Two weeks later, my wife was cleaning a pot that hosts a palm tree, which the cat had used as a tropical litter box. She found my ring buried in the urine drenched soil. Now, whenever something is missing around the house, I immediately search the potted plants that my cat seems to be using like pawn shops to dump his stolen goods.

Louis' rap sheet is long. He has claimed our basement couch by pissing on it daily. My dog eats his poop, which has caused her to lose popularity at our house. After a nice shit meal my dog's drool becomes a poo scented glue stick. Her halitosis smells like smashed poop on a daily basis. It's as if Louis calls our dog whenever he needs to poop and makes a direct deposit into her mouth.

Whether Louis is dumping in my dog's mouth, pissing on the couch, eating Ping-Pong balls, or haunting my dreams, it's like I'm living with a criminal who commits crimes solely against me.

This isn't helping my fear of cats despite the fact that people say that facing your fears is one of the best ways to get over a fear. I have now lived with one of my fears for months and I still tense up whenever he jumps on my lap. My ailurophobia continues. The next fear I will try to conquer is the artificial insemination of cows.