Archives for posts with tag: Beatles

I think it was Vidal Sassoon who famously once said that “Your hair is your crowning glory.”

And with a coif as masterful as that at age 107, who could argue with him? One only looks as good as one’s hair, and every girl and reasonably self-aware male above the age of 14 understands that all it takes is one bad hair day to ruin an otherwise magnificent ensemble.

So where does this leave bald men, i.e. the scintillatingly heart-stopping MDJ Superstar?

I have defended my skinheaded look by name-dropping countless examples of Beautiful Bald Men – those who have not relied on Bieber-esque locks to cause panties to get damp and brassiers to go flying. Agassi. Statham. Willis. Diesel. Connery. The Rock. Malkovich. These are men who have proven time and again that a shiny pate can be just as sexy as a Rob Pattinson flop-top.

It’s hard not to get jealous sometimes though.

The art of styling one’s hair is therapeutic, it’s a space of zen where masculinity and grace come together in a sensual mesh. I wish I could do it, but I haven’t got hair on my head.

Or… do I?

Facial hair is an underappreciated canvas for men to exhibit a bit of artistic expression. The conventional way is to grow a basic goatee, but I think that’s too safe, even with an occasional soulpatch for added effect.

(Caveat: Facial hair should never be TOO cultivated, lest one look like either a boyband member or Dr. Joel Mendez, neither of which is a good thing.)

There are so many joyous creations that can be sculpted out of facial hair.

Why not rock out with Lemmy Kilmeister-esque Motorhead Handlebar, also gloriously featured on the cover of the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”?

Or if one is feeling a bit redneck-ish, throw on a country spin with muttonchop sideburns and a 70s porn star  ’stache? (Ron Jeremy would be very proud of this one)

For Asian-themed parties, there’s always the classic Fu Manchu.

And what Mexican-inspired outfit wouldn’t be complete without a Mariachi Mustachio?

(At this point, I was feeling very politically-correct, and skipped the organic next step: The Adolf Hitler barcode. I don’t know any Jews, but think they are a wonderful people.)

It’s always emotionally-painful to go back to a completely clean-shaven look, but that’s where all good things must begin.

What’s your favourite facial hair style? Leave me feedback below, and if I like your input strongly enough, I just might carve it out of the beard I’m currently growing. You might not be able to shape the world, but you can shape my facial hair!

Leave a comment and help me decide what groovy shape to carve out of my beard!

How’s that for the first ever Interational MDJ Superstar Manscaping Promo???

There are four things men need in life to prove they are truly rugged, manly specimens worthy of the Manly Man Manifesto:

1. A sizable bottle of Axe deodorant.

2. A hairy chest at Hasselhoff-ian levels of furriness.

3. A Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band handlebar moustache (with the guiding principle being, if something can make Paul McCartney look totally butch, then it must be manly).

4. A marching song.

The first three items have been easy to acquire on MDJ Superstar’s lifelong quest to achieve legendary status as a truly tremendous Titan of Testosterone.

But the fourth, a marching song raging with thunder and fury, sure to set panties dropping and lesser men fleeing as a Manly Man enters a room – that is something that MDJ Superstar was sorely lacking.

Until today, that is.

After years of searching, MDJ Superstar has finally found a song worthy of his raging manhood.

It’s the entrance theme to pro wrestling legend, the Exotic Adrian Street, a man who knew what true dude-itude (the science of dude-ness) was all about.

The lyrics are stellar. Here’s a sample:

I can tear a telephone directory in two
Bending iron bars is something else that I can do
I always pick my teeth with the nearest billiard cue
So imagine what I could do to you

I can crush a housebrick with one movement of my hand
And laugh while I reduce it to a dusty heap of sand
I cut a splendid figure when I make my chest expand
So imagine what I could do to you

Pretty butch, huh?

I performed a live rendition of this for my Marketing colleagues, accompanying myself on the bagpipe as I slowly unfolded interpretative dance steps inspired by Toni Braxton’s immortal classic, “Unbreak My Heart.”

I assure you, by the time I was done, there was not a single dry eye in the room.

Just listen to this, you manly men. And imagine, what I could do to you.

It’s preposterous! It’s testosterone! It’s.. PREPOSTERONE!!

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