Danny Tyree: Beard transplants: Yeah you heard me
“Who knows what vanity lurks in the hearts of men?”
Prices range from $3,000 for filling in gaps to $10,000 for a full beard.
Facial hair experts say the treatment sends a message. Yeah: “Hey, ladies, I suddenly have $10,000 less to spend on YOU.”
Twentysomethings and thirtysomethings in Brooklyn are especially enamored of the very meticulous procedure. Not only do they expect compliments from the mere mortals they encounter, but the newfound hair can also lead to career advancement. And if some other beard-enhanced individual happens to snatch away their dream job, there are always those Brooklyn openings for pirates, lumberjacks and grizzled prospectors.
Ironically, many of the recipients rush through the healing process so they can show off their new chin whiskers in a march dedicated to protesting the fact that some people have way too &^%$ much money.
I love that the hipsters can put things into perspective. (“YOU’VE got a conjoined twin with cleft palate. I’ve got a spotty soul patch. All God’s children got troubles. When do I get my telethon?”)
Copycatting your favorite guitarist and getting repurposed whiskers is supposedly a way to make you look more mature. (“See? I can play follow-the-leader. Who’s up for a rousing game of hopscotch or Chutes and Ladders?”)
The beard transplants supposedly give recipients authority. Except if my boss had an artificially enhanced beard and sat there asking for suggestions, I’d be stifling a laugh because I expect that instead of “No!,” he’ll react with “Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin.”
Manly beards, we are told, are indispensable for showing masculinity. Yeah, I remember wincing at all those bloopers in John Wayne westerns where The Duke tripped over his ZZ Top wannabe fuzz.
Follicles for transplant are generally taken from the back of the client’s own neck, but surgeons keep their options open for the best match. So you never know whether you’ll elicit responses of “You look like my favorite movie star!” or “You don’t know WHERE that thing has been!” Sort of makes you see “hair of the dog that bit him” in a new light, doesn’t it?
Facial hair trends come and go with alarming rapidity. If you’re determined to get involved with a fad, at least try something you can unload at next summer’s garage sale. Beard remorse means a lifetime commitment of razors or waxing. Why not just write your chin a monthly alimony and child support check and be done with it?
Honestly, I empathize with the follicly challenged. I am cursed with freakishly sparse, light-colored eyebrows. So I can understand someone being miffed with Mother Nature. But get a grip on your envy before you try to outsmart Mother Nature by ordering a transplanted PREHENSILE TAIL!
Ah, don’t mind me. In the final analysis, it’s still a free country. Find your bliss.
Although, I don’t know how long we’ll have a free country if we’re suddenly invaded and all the able-bodied men are taking their orders from “GQ” instead of HQ.
“Remember Pearl Harbor? Forget that! Remember the conditioner!”
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