Is There Anything A Mustache Can't Do?

The answer is: no. My cousin and I have grown many mustaches for many causes. Nothing builds the comrodary the a group mustache grow can build. A few years ago, we grew rally mustaches when the Twins made the play-offs. Now the Twins exited early and I take full responsibility for that. I should have seen the writing on the wall, known the Twins were going to make the play-offs and started growing my mustache earlier and had a better one when the play-offs started. That one's on me.

Last year, while driving out to visit a friend in Idaho, we figured that two dudes out taming the wild west needed mustaches to bring that wild country to its knees. People, I am convinced that those mustaches saved our lives. The three of us (me, my cousin, and my friend we were out visiting) were driving up Hell's Canyon. On the way back, we hadn't eaten all day you see, we stop and this little shit-hole in Eastern Oregon to get some chow. Well we walk in there and notice that there's only about seven people in the bar and they all look at us kind of sideways, giving us the stink-eye. Well we sit in the back, order our burgers and beers and look up at the T.V. there to see they're watching the rodeo. So already I'm thinking that this isn't the sort of crowd that I normally hang around. We also begin to notice that the longer we sit there, the louder and more profane these folks become. In fact, the rodeo ends and they start watching this animal wrestling type of show--like the croc hunter or whatever--and this one guy yells "That sounds like fuckin' Limey talk to me!"

Well it's about that time when I look behind me and notice that on the back wall of the bar is this big ol' piece of plywood with what looks like the brands of the local ranches burned into it. Well that normally wouldn't be cause for concern other than one of the brands was a SWASTIKA!
I don't need to tell you that it was about that time when we all became glad that the woman behind the bar, who checked our IDs didn't make a big deal about us being from out of state.

So we decided that we'd like our bills so we could get the hell out of there, well I've got to take a piss. So I stupidly say "I gotta take a piss" and my two compadres wisely, with deuling banjos ringing in their ears, advise we just get the fuck outta there; which was probably a good idea because I don't need some gummy yokel telling me I gotta real pretty mouth. So we decide to leave and as we walk out, this old woman with half a load on and a smile like a jack-o-lantern says "bye fellas" and kind of waves like a post-apocalyptic homecoming queen. As she says this, I half turn around and I tell you all, I think that those sheep humpers were ready to escort us out, but they got a peak at Drew's and my mustaches and decided to leave us be. They didn't want anything to do with a couple of mustachioed men. Let it be noted that none of them, save that one woman, had a mustache.

Folks, I think it's clear that those mustaches saved our bacon.

It's is heartening to see that the others have seen the usefulness of the mustache. Here is a man who is using the mustache to raise money for hurricane Katrina relief. This is a man who deserves all of our respect.

I ask again, is there anything a mustache can't do?