Dude, Where's My 'Stache?

I've been bored lately. The winter can't go fast enough. Amy spent most of January and February curled up with morning sickness, and it's been no fun. Obviously, in her normal state Amy can hardly keep her hands off me (who could?), but out of sheer boredom, yesterday I was inspired to grow a moustache for at least a week or until she is feeling 100 percent. So I dedicate this moustache to you, babe.

Unfortunately, virtually nobody appreciates a good moustache any more, and there are very few who can pull it off aside from cops and former porn stars. It makes me wish I had lived through more than four months of the seventies. I mean, everyone had one then. It was sexy; so help me God, it was sexy! And it's the only full-length facial hair I can pull off without looking like Joe Dirt. So here is my ode to the fashionable look of yesteryear and its many varieties.

Now, you can't tell me that's not cool. Daniel Day-Lewis abides. And he created two movie icons, Bill the Butcher and Daniel Plainview. I can only wish I were that awesome.

Okay, the handlebar. It only works for cowboys and bikers, but this guy is bringing sexy back.

And of course, the walrus. This doesn't work for me since my sideburns are sparse, but I would love to try it. There are so many possibilities. From Ned Flanders to Goose Gossage to Ron Burgundy, the world is much more manly with moustaches. Let us not forget.