Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Bespectacled, bebearded and bemustachioed, mine is not an aspect which elicits conceptions of that daily bloodletting ceremony known euphamistically as shaving. Let it be known, however, that to keep my Palaeozoic look from diminishing into Cambrian or altogether Precambrian, I do endeavor to tend the edges of my manly shock of facial hair on a daily basis. Nor am I averse to extracting partially masticated victuals with a comb, or eliminating hairs of incongruous colour with tweezers. Deviant culinary habits notwithstanding, I presently reside in a country where canine hair is more abundant and thereby more frequently in need of trimming than facial hair. It is this national deficiency of testosterone that has regrattably led to my weekly use of a pet grooming device to ensure my follical concord. At any rate, it was not the intention of this posting to reveal personal hygene or grooming secrets, rather to contemplate the wonders of certain specific articles of toiletry that have recently earned my personal approbation. This very morning I inattentively used two of the finest products man may purchase. Indeed the very apotheosis of value they are the last bastion of toilet utility at a reasonable price: Barbasol and my new Gillette Mach 3 razor. The circular oxidation stain beneath my shaving cream recepticle is testimony enough to its value. It is an heirloom I aspire to hand down to my first male progeny, or optimistically, my second. Admittedly, one male heir is optimism enough for me, but whatever his name, perhaps Ignatius, he just might be the beneficiary of my present can of Barbasol. A rock solid investment of $3.49! Were it the owner of a passport, it would have the stamps of 9 different countries on it, soon to be more God willing. And it remains as yet half empty. Or half full in keeping with the temperament of this composition. My Mach 3 razor has scarcely been used but I am exceedingly impressed that since its purchase the better part of a month ago, it has had but one blade affixed to it. More precisely, three blades in treble series and perhaps therein lies the engine of its miraculous longevity. I would that I had more sheer chin acrage to experiment with 4, nay 5 or even 6 bladed implements. But I mustn't be overzealous lest I raze the entire crop of woolen frontage in a frenzy of pure product satisfaction. In summation, if you don't shave now, try it. If you do, do it in the knowledge that you are a wise consumer.