The title is exactly what it sounds like. That's the first thing you should know. There was a dearth of topics to write about this week, even for the guy whose only job is to launch into a tirade about anything he wants. As I write this, I have about half an hour before I have to leave for my internship, and, ladies and gentlemen, I'm livid. I'm bleeding from at least six different places on my face. It is this injustice that is directly responsible for this week's rant: shaving. Shaving is dumb; I hate it with a scorching passion that rivals the fire of a thousand suns. There's something wrong with the fact that it's expected of us to slide blades up and down our skin every day. In my opinion, we tempt death quite enough as it is. That may be over-exaggerating, but the point is that a razor blade is a razor blade, no matter how you slice it.
And rather than taking the time to edit the pun I just forced, I'll just agree with you that it shouldn't have been written in the first place.
If I hate shaving, then God must find it deliciously ironic that I also hate facial hair. Don't ask me why. I believe there are only four redeeming reasons to grow facial hair. Number one: you're gearing up for a white trash party next Saturday. Two: you are a ninja master, a king or a wise hermit, thereby requiring you to stroke your beard as a necessary idiosyncrasy. The third: for those who are trying to create the impression of a chin. Lastly, icicles grow on your face while skiing - growing a beard for that experience is totally awesome.
While I occasionally fall under category four, I otherwise do not belong to these four kinds of guys. And, to add insult to injury, I am both lazy and biologically prone to growing facial hair quickly. My 5:00 shadow shows up midday. So you can see how it goes with me: shaving has to happen a lot, particularly since I'm employed at a place that asks me to look neat and because I'm applying for numerous other jobs that ask the same.
Shaving for men is much different than shaving for women. I confess, I don't know many details about how the other half shaves. Suffice to say, neither side has it easier. Women have their own problems, and men have comparable ones.
Ladies, before you light that torch, allow me to explain. Both genders are pressured to shave by society's idea of a clean-looking person. I'm not trying to downplay what women have to go through with the razor. In terms of surface area, they have men beat by a long shot.
Then again, if a woman should so choose, she could opt to merely wear something to cover those areas - men are not so lucky. While a woman could wear long sleeves or slacks, men can't choose to not shave and walk into work wearing a bandana tied around our faces ? la Jesse James or to put a paper bag over our heads. When we make a mistake, the wound will sit there, plainly and awkwardly visible to all, until it heals. I can't even lie about it. I can only "survive" so many "knife fights in the old school parking lot" before my boss tires of my stories and just fires me instead.
Not to mention the fact that we're running a blade right up next to our carotid artery every time we shave, or that we rely on a mirror, since we can't actually see directly what we're doing. When men were shaving with straight blades, it must truly have been a risky endeavor.
Not that shaving technology hasn't improved to the point that shaving has become a leisure sport, either. When Gillette's Mach 3 came out, it was a sensation. "Holy toaster oven!" the male community cried in a single unifying voice. "Our problem is solved!"
Yet it was not true - it might have gotten you a closer shave, but it was just like shaving three times with a single razor. And then Schick rolled around with its Quattro, and we were duped again, except this time it was by four razor blades.
At some point, things just become redundant. We can get a very close shave with a straight razor - it's been proven, and that's just one blade. Gillette's new Fusion, which sports five blades, is like putting training wheels on a tricycle. Honestly.
The best part about rants is that they usually end not with a conclusion, but when he who is ranting is out of breath.
Such is the case with this article, but to make this relevant to you, the reader, for those of you with more college in front of you, I encourage you to take advantage of not having to shave daily.
Next week, perhaps, you have my word that there will be something more pertinent to discuss.
Alex Sherman is a senior majoring in architectural studies. He can be reached via e-mail at alexander.sherman@tufts.edu
