Archive | But is it art?

The Trustworthiness of Beards

Trustworthiness of beardsFinally, a new advance in the Beard Sciences! Here at the Institute of the Hirsute, we applaud this initiative.

This exhaustive study of trustworthiness, vis-a-vis a gentlemen’s hair foliage, will help generations better understand who they’re dealing with. (Click the image on the left to see the full spectrum of beard/trustworthiness.)

I would like to note one area where this study has made, what I believe, to be an error. Of course, I’m talking about the Stalin’s Moustache paradigm. Please note the shape of Stalin’s moustache, and then map it on the trustworthiness scale. As you can see, it is clearly falling somewhere between the Full Moustache (aka The Wilfred Brimley) and the Cop Moustache (aka The Burt Reynolds, aka, The Fireman), which both fall into the Mildly Trustworthy category. Stalins' moustacheI note a very slight, almost impossible to detect upturning of Stalin’s moustache, which may lead one to place it slightly towards the Handlebar (Questionable), and would like to propose that the Stalin have it’s own place in the scale. Based on the purges, his ruthlessness, and general history, somewhere between Dangerous and Disastrous.

In all other regards, though, this new Chin Covering Spectrum is an extremely important tool for those of us in the Beard Sciences.

Excelsior!

Check out some hairy reads here …

Alltop is sporting some Mutton Chops, but we think it’s okay.

Apocalypse Cow

apocalypse cow

Never get out of the boat. Absolutely goddamn right. Unless you were going all the way. Kurtz got off the boat. He split from the whole fuckin’ program.

And me? I was off the boat the same time as Kurtz. Sure, I’d been obeying orders, but my mind was gone. I was in fields of green and clover. With milkmaids.

Oh man, those bullshit milkmaids…

But I had a job to do, and there would be no welcome, supple fingers pulling on my teats when we got to the end of the river. Only charcoal briquettes.

The barbecue … the barbecue.

Alltop is the catastrophic cattle baron of humor. Originally published on Name Your Tale, 2009.

The Lost PowerPoint Slides (Ides of March Edition)

Brutus -- the anti-kingJulius Caesar Presents: Won’t Be King (slide 5)

  • Don’t put that diadem around my shoulders
  • Only King in Rome is Jupiter
  • But you can call me King outside Italy
  • What, you got a problem with that?

Spurinna the Soothsayer presents “ooooooo” (slide 1)

  • Beware the Ides of March!
  • Cue the spooky music!

Caesar Presents “What, me worry?” (only slide)

  • Going to speak with the Senate at Pompey’s Theatre
  • You see, soothsayer Spurinna, the Ides of March have come
  • No problem.

Spurinna presents “you’re an idiot” (only slide)

  • It’s the Ides all day, you pillock.

Marcus Brutus presents “anti-king device” (slide 1)

  • Is this a stabby thing you can’t see behind you, Caesar of the Julia?

Marcus Brutus presents “anti-king device” (slide 2)

  • Nope, can’t see it now, ’cause it’s in your back.

Marcus Brutus presents “anti-king device” (slide 5)

  • And again.
  • Thus always to tyrants, even if they may be my father.
Et tu Alltop? Shockingly, originally published in 2006!

Tundra Reports: Tim Horton’s Honeys

Tim Horton's Christmas coffee cup
By Dr. Maximilian Tundra

Does anyone else find it mildly disturbing to be addressed as “dear”, “hon,” or “darling” by someone who is at least 10 years younger than you?

I have noticed over the past few years that Tim Horton’s has been hiring more young servers, and they have strangely taken on some of the matronly language of the more traditional Tim Horton’s Lady. (For those of you wondering if this has something to do with Dr. Seuss, miscommunication and my penchant for bad chemicals, Timmy’s is Canadian institution and chain of coffee shops.)

This morning was particularly uncomfortable, as the young lady serving your peripatetic doctor of peyote, was also a hottie. Granted, Timmy’s tries to disguise any attractiveness their staff may have with the brown, shapeless polyester atrocities they make them wear, but there was no pretending.

“Can I get you anything else, dear?” she asked me.

Thousands of inappropriate responses flashed in my mind, somewhat dulled as it was by the morning’s peyote milkshake. (Hence the need for the high-octane caffeine that is the only redeeming quality of Tim Horton’s coffee.)

“How about a beaver tail?” I said in a strangulated voice.

“We don’t serve that, sir.”

Phew, now “sir” was more comfortable territory.

Alltop also likes to wear brown shapeless clothing. Timmy’s Christmas cup by jumphawk. Originally published November 2007.