The beard: Shaping America since the cooling of the Earth

Since it’s almost Thanksgiving – yes, Thanksgiving, not Christmas – take down the blow-up Santas and icicle lights – I feel compelled to let everyone in on what I’m thankful for this year.

Most people can probably guess what the first couple are. They’ve been staples since my preteen days: Beer, female nudity and “Saved by the Bell” reruns – in no specific order.

This year’s list also includes:

– “Guitar Hero” – there is finally a Metallica and a DragonForce song on the third one.

– The invention of TV on DVD, so I can watch all the canceled TV, from “Alf” to “Arrested Development” to “Freaks and Geeks,” that I can stomach.

– The support and comfort of boxer briefs.

– Little things, like koozies, text message flirting, pity laughter, pity hookups, pity in general and the ability to walk.

– Michael Vick, O.J. Simpson, “A Shot at Love” and “Cavemen” for being so awesomely stupid and giving me so much fodder this year.

– Oh yeah, and family, friends, health, life, sunny days and other fluffy things.

– And, most of all, beards.

Go ahead, scratch your head.

Now that you’re done scratching, let me tell you not so briefly about the importance of beards in the history of the world.

It all starts out something like this:

On the first seven days, God grew a sick-ass beard. Then he stroked his long, thick beard while he created the world, the animals, plants, water, beer, sex, people – wait, people come before sex – people, then sex, the sky, metal guitar playing and the Internet. No, he created Al Gore, who then created the Internet, global warming and Man-Bear-Pig. Damn.

Come to think of it, my whole order is probably off. That’s not important. What’s important is that while creating, God had a righteous beard that would put ZZ Top to shame.

I promise I’ll get off religion in a second, but Jesus had a beard too. You can even see it in the nativity scene. God even gave Santa Claus a beard.

Aristotle, Galileo and other smart people had beards back in the day, too. But so did violent people like King Leonidas. This sets up this dichotomy that still exists in beards today. They can be worn by coffee-shop intellectuals and art history professors, but are still as acceptable for construction workers, bikers and thrash metalists.

Taking a jump forward in history, we arrive at the colonization of America.

I’m sure John Smith had a beard, although Disney failed to give him one in their animated farce, “Pocahontas.” In my version, everyone would have had beards, even Pocahontas. The Pilgrims had beards, as well – how appropriate for the time of year.

History shows the Founding Fathers as clean-shaven aristocrats. I don’t buy it. They all had beards. How could they not after being locked in conferences for weeks on end talking about Constitutions and Declarations of Independence?

Out West, you bet your sweet ass all our greatest American heroes had beards. Pecos Bill, sure. Johnny Appleseed, sure. But the best beard of all was a certain lumberjack, the immortal Paul Bunyan.

Bunyan had a beard that was responsible for the deforestation of much of the North American continent, and – due to its ability to hold bacteria and germs – was also probably responsible for the spread of many of the diseases that plagued Native Americans in early Manifest Destiny times. I also attribute to Bunyan’s beard the creation of the Grand Canyon, Puget Sound, both the Bay and Golden Gate Bridge, Disneyland and Arches National Park.

Plus he hung out with a huge blue ox, which I’m sure was initially attracted to Paul because of his manly, steel-wool-like beard. Could have been the flannel, too, though.

Unlike many great Americans, some of our presidents didn’t have beards. What a travesty. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Martin Van Buren, all sans beard.

But starting with Honest Abe – whose beard single-handedly punched slavery in its evil face and united the country – we had a great run of awesome presidential beards. Grant? Hayes? Garfield? Yes, all bearded and ready to break a bottle over a table and stab a foreign diplomat right in the throat.

Sadly, shortly after a great run of manliness in the White House, we experienced our last bearded Commander in Chief – Benjamin Harrison. After Harrison, who, based on his beard, was a very underrated president, we see only mustaches and baby smooth skin.

Since our presidents let America down, we’ve had to turn to pop culture for the life-giving force that is beard.

Of course, the cause has been most forcefully taken up by metal. Even today, metal sports some of the most potentially harmful beards ever to walk the Earth. These beards, had they been around in prehistoric time, would have caused the dinosaurs to go extinct. Instead, manly facial hair like that of Zakk Wylde, members of Mastodon and Killswitch Engage – to name a few – works to rid our modern world of such scourge as Carlos Mencia comedy routines, a new reality TV show called “Remaking the Band: Hanson,” cancer, restrictions on Sunday beer sales and girls who think skirts should tickle their ankles.

Geeks have even gotten in on the bearded thing. Look at Peter Jackson, the director of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. He has a beard. It’s sort of ugly and off-putting – actually, that’s just Pete, not necessarily the beard’s fault – but still a beard.

The take-home lesson after all this lecturing is: Next time you see a man with a beard, congratulate him on his patriotism, thank him for carrying on a tradition that has brought prosperity to our country. Don’t hide your children or clutch the cannister of bear mace in your purse because you’re worried about your safety.

What if that man is actually Jesus? Yeah, if you remember from above, he had a beard.

And above all, ask yourself, what would Paul Bunyan do?

-da.bake@aggiemail.usu.edu