A soul patch is that ugly tuft of hair that grows above your chin and under your lip. Legend has it that the soul patch covers (or patches) the hole from which your soul was extracted, which is why most people with soul patches are soulless bastards.

TRUTH

• 99% of all soul patchers are douchebags, not because of the soul patch, but because douchebags, by design, have incredibly powerful urges to grow that little bastardy tuft of hair right under their lip. So if you have one, be careful, because some people might be under the assumption you’re a douchebag even if you’re not.
• The soul patch is evil manifesting itself into facial hair!
• The only people who should have soul patches are talent agents, baseball pitchers,  grungy musicians, and those who are active in the art of douchebaggery.
• Like the Hitler mustache is associated with Hitler, the soul patch is synonymous with being a douchebag. I can’t stress this enough.
• People, especially your girlfriend, wife, or mother, will try to tear the soul patch off of your face.
• The soul patch can often be seen co-mingling with lightning shaped sideburns.
• Patches are for elbows, knees, and flat tires, not your face.

EXCEPTIONS

• A soul patch in conjunction with any other type of beard or thick stubble is acceptable and is NOT a sign of being a douche. It’s not even a real soul patch.
• If you’re covering up a scar, mole, or other facial deformity, like a baby toe growing out from under your lip. It happens, it really does.
• There are some great people who have soul patches! Heck, any CorruptCamel.com reader with a soul patch has gotta be a great guy, right? RIGHT?

The exceptions are few and far between, so shave the soul patch before the soul patch engulfs your heart, mind, chin, and of course, soul.

Commandeered the beard. Rewind two-years ago. After conquering Europe with a pack strapped to my back I realized I accomplished something more amazing than I ever thought I would or could.  Climbing the steps of the Eiffel Tower? Seeing the Sistine Chapel? Touching the remnants of the Berlin wall? No, no, and no. This was something much greater. A friend and I made a pact not to shave for the duration of the trip. A pact that made us men. Real men. The result, for me, was one incredibly patchy, yet beautiful beard. My friend and I? Well, our friendship, like our beards, grew by leaps and bounds by sharing in one of men’s greatest and oldest traditions. The growing of beards.

Jeered the beard. Insulting a beard is like insulting a man’s penis size. It challenges their manhood. With this in mind, some never attempt to grow a beard in fear his manhood will be challenged.

Feared the beard. Fear of failure and inadequacy can make our decisions for us.  Fear of not being able to grow an adequate beard is no different. But we never know unless we try. This is a fear we must overcome to reach our manliness potential.

Appeared the beard. Fast forward to one month ago, when I put down my razor and decided it was time to climb that hairy mountain again (no, I’m not talking about dating your mom). It was time to grow a beard. This time, I was going solo. I needed to learn more about myself and go through the trials and tribulations of beardness on my own. Over the course of this month long journey I’ve realized that unless you’re on a deserted island, you never go through the beard growing process on your own.

Cheered the beard. People  everywhere have been supporting and sponsoring my beard through its weakest stages. Morning meetings at work unexpectedly turned into a forum for the discussion of beards. Men shared their beard experiences with me over a cold beer and hot wings. Together we analyzed the strong and weak points of my beard and where it has been filling in nicely. Whenever I contemplated shaving, someone would tell me how beautifully it was coming along. If I could knit a sweater from my beard to thank everyone who helped me, I would.

Revered the beard. On the streets, and out in the city, I’ve been appreciating the beards of others. Hoping one day my beard could be as strong as theirs.

Persevered the beard. So please join me in wishing my beard a happy 1-month beard-day, and wishing my beard and I a happy beard-iversary.

Sheared the beard? Where this relationship will end I don’t know and like any good fling, sometimes it’s best not to ask. When the time comes, I’ll know. We’ll know (my beard and me). But in the meantime, I know we won’t be alone. We’ll have each other.

Premiered the beard. I have no pictures of my beard today, but I’ll get some. Maybe we can compare it to my Europe beard and see if this one is better. Maybe that’s not fair to this beard though. Either way, it looks like my beard and I will be busy together all weekend.

Pioneered the beard. Did you ever wonder why wise men usually have beards? Grow a beard and you’ll find out. Did you ever wonder why people who have their heart broken, lose their jobs, or are homeless grow beards? It’s because when you have a beard you’re never alone. Never. You always have a friend giving you a big warm, fuzzy hug.

From my beard and I to you, happy Friday.

At least once in your life, most likely after watching a vampire flick or a movie involving a fountain of youth, you will ask yourself and your friends what the ideal age is. What age would you like to remain forever?

Popular answers are usually in the 20s and that’s understandable. Our 20s are when we’re young and vital. Our physical peak. Before the wrinkles, sagging, and the gut your wife says is cute or your husband says you don’t have (they’re lying). Some might say early 20s, but I’m not sure people will take someone so fresh faced seriously. I’m thinking more mid to late 20s.

I think I’ve figured out my ideal age. You see, every so often I decide to try to grow a beard. I’m not horrible at it, but I’m no Abe Lincoln (oddly, that’s the first bearded guy that comes to mind). Let’s just say my beard is a little patchy in spots. A few puzzle pieces are missing. I see myself in the mirror and think, until I can fill in those voids, my life is incomplete. But every time I try to grow it, it’s a little less patchy than the time before. So I decided yesterday, the age I’d like to stay forever is the age when I can grow a full and beautiful beard. My life will be nearly complete. It’s on my life’s to-do list right after writing a bestselling novel.

For those of you who could grow a full beard by the age of 12, what do we call you, oh yes, Italians, your ideal age might be a little harder to figure out. Maybe the age before your back hair got out of hand. I kid, I kid. I’m just jealous of your full beard.

For those men who can’t grow a beard and will never be able to (i.e. lesser men), at least you don’t have to shave everyday. That’s a plus isn’t it, champ?

For women, it’s much more difficult and probably not shaving related. Unless it was when you could properly shave a lightning bolt into your … Nevermind.

So my question to you is: what would your ideal age be and why?