Hey Anwyn, if you’re reading this, I’m going to buy you one of these:
Because, as evidenced in this post, featuring a book on the topic of pogonology, or the study of beards, no poet worth their salt ever got far without one. Where does your little bald chin rank in ‘poetic gravity’ among the veritable shrubs sported by the likes of Walt Whitman, or Lord Tennyson, or Joaquin Miller (who?)? More importantly, how much wattage is the thing giving off? It’s not good enough to just write stuff, you know. You’ve got to be able to generate power, too.
On the topic of the famously bearded, I’ve often wondered, when I’m drifting into sleep or stuck in a traffic jam at the intersection of Parramatta Rd and Norton St for so long that my brain is overcome with noxious fumes and I begin experiencing visions, who’d win the pogonological show down between these guys:
I bet they had names for them.
I like to think that the beards are detachable and possessed of their own volition. Or that they generate so much beard power that they are able to be fly great distances. Coming soon: Beard Wars 2.0 – Beards in space!
