I would like to address the detractors who have called into question the masculinity of those contestants with the good sense and decency to shave their neck hair early.

Gentlemen, you are meddling with forces you cannot possibly comprehend.

Though you may scoff, there is more at stake in the taming of the neckbeard than mere comfort or comeliness. Unchecked, the neckbeard elicits feelings of dread and horror. Women are gripped with paroxyms of primal terror, children flee screaming and even the most stalwart of men may be shaken to the point that he seeks comfort and guidance from sources without himself.

I offer Exhibit A, a photo of my unshaven neck taken late in the month last year; a photo so horrifying that one of our own contestants—a contestant who has less than a year later called me to task for trimming this area early in the contest—invoked a deity in response.

Don't look at it!

— Henry Walton Jones, Jr., noted Man of Science.

[P]ut that thing away or you'll get us all killed!

— Excerpt from a decree issued by a member of the Alderaanian Royal Family.

It is a simple matter to look upon us with scorn, for the unchecked neckbeard instills an inflated sense of self-worth in the man whose folly is to wear it. But I beseech you to look past your own ego and have some consideration for those around you. It is right and decent and merciful to shave the neckbeard; I would go so far as to say that it is your solemn duty as men to do so.

The neckbeard is not to be trifled with, gentlemen; it is a thing to be squelched at all costs. At stake is not mere masculinity, but humanity.

I don't have words to describe what's going on here.

(Photo Credit: David Johnson, my eldest brother. Used without permission, 'cause I'm a rotten sibling.)

I'm fairly comfortable calling the "beard" that appears in this photo the final product of HoNoToGroABeMo. This shot was taken curing the not-quite-Thanksgiving gathering at the International House of Johnson, when my mother, father, sister, brother, nephews, niece and various in-laws descended upon our abode to feast on turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy (ham and turkey), unsuffering succotash, sweet potato casserole, cranberries, BLT dip, veggies, pickles and pie...oh, the pie.

I was somewhat preoccupied with family and food, so I completely failed to capture the requisite self-portrait and post the requisite HoNoToGroABeMo blog entry. Fortunately, my brother posted several photos on the Facebook today, and at least one of them prominently features my beard.

So here it is. Thirty days of growth, minus some trimming I did to maintain minimal decency. I think I'll let it grow through the month of December to see whether or not some (or all) of the rather unimpressive patches fill in with thick, manly whiskers. Maybe I'll even post the result of thirty more days here after Christmas.

Maybe Santa will bring me a real beard.

Or maybe not. In any case, I want to thank everyone who participated in HoNoToGroABeMo this year: Bob, Chris, David, Gus, Jeff, Nev and Wesley. Your beards (or reasonable facsimiles thereof) may not have provided much warmth as the bitter chill of near-winter descended, but they provided a great deal of amusement throughout the month. I hope you'll all return next year, when I swear on a stack of Remington MicroScreens that I will do a series of Celebrity Beard Profiles (you know, the ones that I didn't do this year); at least one a week.

Thanks also to Laura for providing the wife's perspective, and to Jenny for her comments throughout the month. And thank you to all the wives and girlfriends who put up with thirty days of stubble and silliness with nothing to show for it on December 1st but a bathroom sink full of razor leavings.

Finally, thanks once more to Bob, for picking up the HoNoToGroABeMo ball and running with it. This website would not exist without Bob's initiative and his mad web development skillz. Kudos to you and your beard, sir.

P.S. There will be at least one more post from me in the next couple of days. My father and younger brother both participated in HoNoToGroABeMo, and I'd like to present a few of the photographs they shared with me.

I've still got some beard photos to share, and not all of them are of my stunning mug. I have been extremely lazy over the past few days, but the final result of 30 days of unfettered growth will soon be displayed for all to see.

In need of a trim, or perhaps a few transplants

Okay, I know what you're saying. I'm not a day late, I'm two days late. But to that I say a hearty, "Nuh uh!" because I took this picture on the 1st. I just didn't have time to post it until now.

Here is (plus a day or so) my 30-day, mostly-untrimmed, still-spotty beard growth. Despite the scraggly and spotty, I'm pretty happy with it and am going to see what a second month will bring. I'll post a picture now and again as the weeks go by, assuming I remember.

If all goes well, I think I'll keep this bad boy until the thaw, and shave it off with a machete (or a Norelco) when I'm not using it to keep my face warm while I do man stuff outside like kill grizzly bears or build cabins or scrape ice off my car.

And yeah, I'll be back next year.

Where will I be? Back where I started. :) Fully bearded and ready for Decemeber.

Who's got two thumbs and didn't even bother to comb his hair today? That guy.

Here it is, the culmination of a month of focused beard growing. Sadly, this is about as good as it gets. I've tried wearing it for considerably longer on a few occasions and the handlebar area never fills in, which is hardly ideal. There are some facial hair options that don't include it, but none of the cool ones.

I'd like to thank everyone who participated and commented over the past month, particularly Laura for her wife's perspective, which generated the most traffic during the month. And, of course, Kris, for the entertaining idea.

I'm sorry that I didn't get all the features I had planned implemented in a timely fashion. I threw it together on a lark right before November 1, at which time I needed to focus primarily on NaNoWriMo.

If there's interest, we'll do it again next year, with hopefully a better website behind it. Maybe we'll try to collect a few dollars for charity, as well, in the process.

And November draws to a close...

An end to this event anyway. I shall continue to grow the facial hair, though now I suppose I'll return to shaving or trimming it to amuse myself and my loved ones. Why amuse? Well, because that's how I roll...

What?

The penultimate day.

This is all I have to show for it.

Smooth!

...gone. On a side note, I think this is actually within the rules, as although I physically was able to grow a beard, I lacked the willpower to sustain it. Thus, I have proven that I belong in the HoNoToGroABeMo fraternity. Well...maybe...:-D

Crazy person ahoy!

I can't take it any more..it's coming off!! AARRRGGGHHH!!

I think I see it

This is me after Thanksgiving II: Electric Boogaloo.

My mom served it up for my family yesterday, but we had to host for Mrs. Bob's family today.

We cleaned, cooked and baked up a storm. It was awesome, but I'm exhausted.

The secret to good pie crust, apparently, is that it looks like you haven't used quite enough shortening.

ooooo!!!

Not sure whether to shave it off or not...

3vil l33t

Had to perform a little Thanksgiving day trim. Reclaimed a little bit more neck. I'm still looking for the right line under there.

Dashing!

In the interest of fostering peace and harmony this holiday season, I have shaved my neck and done the teensiest bit of trimming on my cheeks—just enough to eradicate the few stray hairs that were beginning to march toward my eyeballs.

We did not celebrate Thanksgiving at the International House of Johnson today; not because we hate America or have an aversion to the hats the Pilgrims wore (c'mon, Solomon Kane was a badass, despite the hat), but because key members of our family were absent. We have delayed the feastibration until Saturday, when Laura's mother does not have to work and my parents and two-fifths of my siblings can join us. All told, I estimate that there will be seventeen mouths to feed come Saturday, and if you think I'm regurgitating that much turkey, you've got another think coming.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Well, except Nev, for obvious reasons. We uppity colonials may be tempted to point and laugh, but I'd like to think that whole "Revolutionary War" business is water under the bridge. Deep down, though, I suspect the entire United Kingdom avoids turkey on this day. I mean, like it's made of bitter, bitter poison.

How's the weather down there?

Day twenty-six.

Even the cows have stopped talking to me.

Tried to make friends with the roosters.

But they're a bunch of cocks.