Movember Forever

My son Nick came up from his lair sporting a pair of unkempt side burns and some scruffy chin hair.

He looked like Wolverine, if Wolverine were a short, glassy-eyed pot smoker and not Hugh Jackman.

"Why don't you shave that off?" I pleaded.

"Can't," he sniffed. "It's Movember. I'm doing it for Shyla's dad."

"It's Movember," I retorted. "Not Sidevember or Chinvember."

"I know, but I can't grow a moustache."

And with that, he took himself and his bong back downstairs.

In certain communities, it's Movember forever. Guys grow facial hair not to support cancer but to support their slacker lifestyle. They're too lazy to shave.

Some can't wait for Movember when the boss says it's alright to sport any type of pube-style facial hair. Some, in fact, do raise money for prostate cancer research while the others claim they're movembering to raise awareness.

I'm calling bull shit on those last guys.

There's an op-ed piece in the Citizen today which supports my theory that Movember is all about laziness.

Scott Gilmore, founder of the Peace Trust, calls it "slacktivism".

"Slacktivism is about you; it is not about the cause. If you woke up one morning and sincerely decided you really wanted to fight cancer, you would not simply wear a mass produced fashion accessory. You would write a cheque. You would do it quietly and do it often."

Well said, Scott, well said.

Movember is another chance for men to behave badly. They don't shave. They go to tittie bars and buy shooters for their friends in the name of dad or grandpa.

Hmm. Smells like hockey playoff season to me.

In some parts of Canada, it's Movember forever.

Like Fort McMurray.

I wonder what Dean and Terry, the FUBAR-twins, would think of Movember.

In the last film, Dean lost his final nut to cancer in spite of having year round facial hair.

"Hey Dean," says Terry. "Hand me that box of wine. It's Movember, man."

"Yeah, let's break somethin'."

We can't escape Movember. It's everywhere. The dudes on TSN own lip spiders. So do the hoseheads in your office. You can't even escape it in your car; the disc jockeys are talking nothing but.

Yesterday, I heard Justin Trudeau on DAWG-FM urging more men to put down the shaving cream. The DJ asked Justin if his dad would have donned a pencil-thin moustache for the cause.

Justin paused, which meant, of course not.

Pierre would have been much too cool for that.

"We are another generation," Justin explained."In Dad's generation, lots of men wore moustaches full time."

"But nobody in our generation wears a moustache."

Except in playoff season.

Or Fort McMurray.

Or while rocking the bong in my backyard.