The Magnificent Moustache Malarkey
Day 7: My sincerest apology for the lack of photographic documentation, my father is being more self-absorbed and less helpful than usual. I will have my mother take a few snapshots with the X-700 tomorrow, and then I'll find suitable subjects for the rest of the roll and take the film to the drugstore for developing, including a photo disc. I'll be snookered if my old-fashioned film photographs are not available sooner than my feckless father's digital pictures.

To date reaction to the moustache has been positive, though of course Mrs. Skeeter, Esq. will tell us that people are positive for form's sake and nothing more, that nothing genuine is behind any compliment ever paid to any aspect of anything any human being has ever done with his or her hair. (For my purposes, that people find the moustache amusing is not my aim but a bonus.) I was at first, as anticipated, horrified by my beardless visage, but with the passage of time so too has passed the shock. I am, as ever, terribly fond of my splendiferous sideburns, and find myself quite pleased with the moustache. It is far more labor intensive than was the far more extensive beard, with rogue, uncooperative hairs requiring daily attention above and beyond simply washing and combing. Keeping a trimmed moustache is a bear of a task; keeping a truly neatly trimmed moustache might be akin to the impossible. The Malarkey continues undaunted.

The end date is yet unknown, though as with the Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge I feel a definitive end date is a necessity. If the end of the Magnificent Moustache Malarkey is left open-ended, I might wake up one morning in a foul mood and make a rash choice. Or, worse, I might leave it too long, diminishing the magnificence. No, a deadline's the thing; one shall be set before the Malarkey is a fortnight old.

Pictures soonest. Magnificent!

Vote For Kodos: Old Blighty Edition
Tony Blair's New Labour was genuinely new Labour, not the old socialist Labour Party of Clement Attlee and Harold Wilson (neither my uncle nor my late great-grandfather, both also Harold Wilsons) that came within a whisker of destroying Great Britain. I am distrustful of all third parties and wish that the Conservative Party had a majority in their own right instead of being beholden to the Liberal Democrats, but of paramount importance is that the odious Gordon Brown had been removed from No. 10 Downing Street. Only a madman would envy David Cameron the job he has ahead of him as Prime Minister in Her Majesty's Government, and for that reason among many others I wish him all luck in the days ahead. Godspeed, sir.



The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Paramore, "Brick by Boring Brick" from Brand New Eyes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Keep your feet on the ground
When your head's in the clouds."

Also, this is me rejecting the band's attempts to render their album's title as brand new eyes. Capitalization is not fit to be made subject to stylistic whim. (Yes, I also write E. E. Cummings's name as E. E. Cummings, never "ee cummings.")