If all men lived by this mantra, I don’t think there’d be any more war. They’d all be too busy gettin’ laid.
(Source: fuckyeahbeards)
I need a baby in me RIGHT. NOW.
Via Etsy. h/t Blogopotamus.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, dear God, yes.
Just because I’m not sure if I’ve put it out in the world yet, I want to let it be known that I want to have Sam Beam’s baby. That is, if Jim James refuses to put a baby in me.
Converting to Tumblr and going through the archives has afforded me the opportunities to find better photos (like the one below, which is amazing—it’s like “my hair and my beard are blowin’ in the wind! whooooo!!!”), and see how well (or not so well) I wrote all these old posts. This one’s not horrible.
10.0
In 2007, Iron & Wine released The Shepherd’s Dog, which for me graduated him from over-hyped Pitchfork darling to legitimately-hyped Pitchfork darling. Regardless of the music, however, Beam has an ace under his chin.
That’s a magnificent frickin’ beard. Seriously. It’s growth like this that renders me stupid and (almost) mute. So when I look at a hair garden like Beam’s, I see possibilities — like some uncolored 1980s coloring book bursting with potential for technicolor radiation not unlike a Care Bear Stare. Gentle, flowing, wise, friendly, prudent and full, this is the beard you’d expect a film professor to wear. It screams “I heart corduroy!” and “leather-bound book scavenger at your yard-sale” and “natural-born viking.”
Beam’s mane makes lions jealous.
Photo via Kathryn Yu
(via fuckyeahbeards)
I’m hoping you know about Whiskerino.
It’s about time Colin Meloy bone up and grow a beard. The man lives in Portland, damnit.
Because all dogs have beards. And go to Heaven.
(via buchino)
The AMI calls beards “The Spousal Compromise” because they assume wimpiness is the only reason a mustache wearer would include a beard on his face. Way to make an ass out of u and me.
This is the sort of thing you miss when you go ten years without cable. (SWOON!)
