Women need not read today. (But, if you want, you can.)

By Don Rush

Que the pipers! Let me hear the heart-stirring rat-a-tat-tat of the drums. Where’s my goshed-darned soapbox? My friends, Americans and countrymen, lend me your ears now, while the womenfolks are off doing whatever womenfolks do.
Men, the time of putting up or shuttin’ up is upon us. Yes, it’s time. It’s March and I ask you to join me. Are we of mice or are we of men? Have we lost our way, our dignity as we grovel at the foot of radical feminism? Are we men or sheeple only to be led by the nose as all domesticated critters are, to the slaughter? Are not our hands calloused from our labors and toils?
Did not our grandfathers and uncles, and great grandfathers and great uncles and our fathers’ fathers stand up to fight against facism and tyranny? Are we not the inheritors, the benefactors of life, liberty and the right to pursue cultivating a danged mustache if we so desire?
Last month I asked you to join me in the first-ever masculine movement of the hash-tag era, #MustacheMarch. Now is the time men!
No one owns us. We are free men and if we wanna’ grow a mustache on our own faces we should not be shamed and shunned by our wifes, daughters, mothers and others.
Upon growing facial hair on our upper lips, no more should we be humiliated verbal arrows slung with the intent to hurt our hearts. We men have feelings, too.
No more, “You look creepy with a mustache.”
No more, “You look like a mafiosa with a mustache.”
No more, “You look like a 1970s porn star with a mustache.”
Nor should we be shut down with, “You look like a pedophile with a mustache.”
Enough of the madness! Let’s pry the shackles of radical feminism from our throats.
Our faces are our own. We have the right to them!
Do we shame the 30 and 40 and 50-year-old women in our lives who dye their hairs any and every color of the rainbow? No. Do we embarrass them for continually shopping at Forever 21? No.
(Do we want to honestly opine? Maybe, but we keep our hairless lips sealed and our thoughts to ourselves lest we hurt the ones we love.)

* * *


The cookie duster is ready for dusting cookies!

I know, some womenfolk didn’t heed the warning headline and are reading. Know this, we’re not talking about taking away all feminity has gained throughout the years. We’re not joining Spanky, Alfalfa, Buckwheat, Froggy and Porky’s He Man’s Women Haters Club. We just want a little autonomy and the right to self-governance. Yes, I know we menfolk are fashionably challenged and do need your help matching tops to bottoms, socks and ties. It’s either genetic or maybe we just don’t care as much as we should, but when it comes to our outer garments please help. Just let us have our faces to ourselves. Wait, doesn’t plaid go with everything?
As Confuscious was reportedly to have said, “A man without a mustache is a man without a soul.”
We men, do have souls and souls need tending.

Guess who?

I’m not sure when them thar womens started hatin’ mustaches. Throughout the years mustaches were deemed acceptable. One of my favorite president’s had a mustache — no, not Chester Author, Grover Cleveland or William Howard Taft. I like Teddy Roosevelt.
Some of the “top” men in America had mustaches.
Who was the most trusted man in America? Walter Cronkite. Mustache.
Who’s on TV every weeknight leading the brainiacs of Jepordy? Alex Trebek. And, although he’s a Canadian, he has a mustache.
Who was one of Americas’ greatest philosopher/writers? Mark Twain. BIG mustache.
The theory of relativity was the brainchild of mustachio’d Albert Einstein.
And, I didn’t even go into the hunk-o, hunk of testosterone Hollywood hunks, Tom Selleck, Clark Gable, Burt Reynolds and Sam Elliot.
So, let’s go men. It’s just not March, it’s #MustacheMarch. And, if we play our cards right, maybe next year we can get organized and we can have a #MillionMustacheMarch in March. That would be kinda’ groovy.
Send in shots of your mustaches men. We’ll post them on our Facebook page! Women, if you must comment, email DontRushDon@gmail.com

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