October 27, 2007
There are so many things that make a truly ‘stache-tastic mustache. Growth, appearance, grooming or lack thereof, how it affects it’s wearer, coloration and even smell. But sometimes, a man comes along that defies the laws of facial hair physics altogether. He is a man who alters the space-time continuum of facial hair cultivation, much like a wizard or Brad Pitt would. Such is the case here. Sam Elliott’s profound “walrus ‘stache,” made popular by such greats as Wilford Brimley, Theodore Roosevelt and Frank Zappa truly is the definition of, well…Sam Elliott. Every movie he’s ever been in should actually list his mustache as a supporting actor. It’s just that good.
Sam Elliott’s mustache exudes complete testicular endowment. If Sam Elliott were a lumberjack, flannel would no longer be called flannel; it would be called Sam Elliott. His mustache is like John Wayne’s sweat mixed with a chainsaw, three pints of Guiness, Indiana Jones, early Nintendo era Castlevania and motor oil. One look at his squinty, weather-beaten face tells you that he means business. Pure steel and brawn man-business. Whether it’s taking on a grizzly bear filled with pirates, cutting down a forest with his bare hands or just plain makin’ love to the ladies. He’ll get it done right the first time. No questions. No complaints. Just mustache.
He speaks in gravely tones about sarsaparilla and “The Dude” abiding. He made Tombstone the great western it is. He was the only redeeming quality of Ghost Rider. He’s even the voice of The American Beef Council. What more do you want!? Does anything define a mustache more than that? Raw red meat and cowboy magic. A perfect harmony.
Sam Elliott; Mustache Rating: A