Movember concludes for Movember Mo' Panache
By Tyler Austin Bradley
“Like sand through the hourglass, so too are the shaves of our lives.”
-Fabrizzio Mioggia, world renowned moustachier
Mo’vember 2010 has officially drawn to a close, the only remaining formalities a handful of gala parties in big bergs and metropolae where well connected Bay Street movers and shakers will handshake and chin-wag through the wee hours as they awkwardly high-five one another on a job well done. Money has been raised, awareness increased, education to do with prostate and testicular cancer diffused. Mo’vember 2010 was a resounding success. Here in Rossland, team members of “Mo Stach Mo Pinache” converged on the Red Room this past week for cheap beers, appetizers, and a review of their local campaign strategy that found them finishing a distant 5712th place in Canada. Sporting a tightly pinned, neatly thinned classic, team member Phil Loosley was full of excuses, “My moustache is almost all blond!” I called it timeless, blond-jokes notwithstanding, but will concede that in the low light of the Red Room one really had to squint, Loosley’s Errol Flynn-like offering lost in the afterglow of three pints and aggressive early evening dimmer switching… Still, any man might feel a shadow of himself when comparing moustache cultivation successes and failures with Mr. Vince Boothe, Vince’s thick mat of face fur resembling something rendered with a Sharpie Magnum. Dubbed “The Convincer,” we expect to see it back, beefier and newly improved next year, the same being said for Frank’s “Red Hot ‘Stache”, Ryan’s “Kuhntada Grande,” Dave’s “Lip Drifter,” and Rory’s “String-Belter.” And who knows? Perhaps even more local males will rise to the challenge next time around, donations bolstered by our swollen legions. Yes, the evening festivities led in a meandering sort of way to the conclusion that next year things would be different. Wispy ‘stache ends will be waxed with Turtle, the pace set in 2011 intended to be much more rabbit and hair than tortoise and shell; While we fundraised just under $500 this year (thanks, friends and family), we agreed in round-table fashion that next year we could probably double that. Early rumblings and ramblings have us pitching a partnering-up with a major local business to promote our activities, the earliest conception running along the lines of “The Hunt For Red Mo’vember,” the facial hair of choice for next season the “Crazy Ivan.” Burying the hatchet with competitor and much-loathed doppelganger Rory Belter, I was magnanimous in victory and allowed him to sit at the grown-up table. We didn’t hug or anything (we’re not girls), but traded manly nods in mind of next year’s bout. True, next year the focus may be more on prostate and testicles than petty competition, but the seething hatred Rory and I harbour for one another is unlikely to abate over the following twelve months. In fact, I expect it to fester like an untended abscess, pussy derision squirting forth in the 2011 Mo’vember Bradley vs. Belter grudge match. Until then, I may hang onto my handlebars a little longer, a symbol of my moustache supremacy. A planned march, a victory lap through Revolutions, Red Sports and Rory’s five other workplaces (totally non-committal, Belter) will be like an Orange march weaving its way through Northern Ireland, McBelter made to relive his agonizing defeat at least a little while longer. Take that, RB. As for the rest of you, fear not, my moustache and you will meet again; like Sampson, hair can be trimmed, shaved and scoured, but true heroism, seeded and sown, will always spring back evergreen… Like Frosty the Snowman, my moustache promises to be back one day and to laugh and play just like fur-face curtains can. Hoorah! See you next year, and thanks again for your support.
