Ahem. Let me speak, for a just moment, about the glory of your beard. It is THICK, thick beyond measure. Like a thousand rasping rosebushes on a single pale chin, even the faintest spear of light fails to penetrate its canopy. Up, up it grows toward the heavens, and the angels envy its lush sheen as the tendrils lick their feet. We ordinary men dream daily of such face pelt, though speak of it only in hushed tones and deathbed forbodings. It is the sweet nectar of perfection, the pinnacle of mouth-adornment, the Mona Lisa in follicle.
Gather round my friends, for this is God's Beard.
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