In life I have met many naysayers who speak ill of my beard, but we (my beard and I) refuse to give false prophets the time of day. In my twisted head, my power, my invisible power lies in the bushes of my beard. It’s my talisman. Like Solomon. Without my beard I’m nothing but a smooth-chinned Quasimodo with a computer. And when was the last time you took a smooth-chinned Quasimodo with a computer seriously? So the beard stays.