You may not be aware of it -- it didn’t get a lot of press, for some reason -- but last week marked an important historical anniversary: exactly one billion years ago last Thursday, the world’s first mustache crawled up out of the primordial sea onto dry land. Of course, a billion years ago, there were no paparazzi on the shore with popping flashbulbs; no one set off any fireworks to mark the occasion; there were no tickertape parades. Yet the significance of that event was astronomical, for it would forever change the face of mankind.
The face of mankind, however, did not yet exist. Humans wouldn’t arrive on the planet for hundreds of millions of years. The mustache would have to wait.
While it waited, it multiplied. After only a few million years, the mustache population had grown to an alarming size. There were now more mustaches on earth than any other form of facial hair, including the eyebrow. Traveling in great herds consisting of several thousand individuals, the mustaches would sweep across the ancient African plain, leaving in their wake a trail of destruction several miles wide. Any animal that lay in their path was enveloped in a veil of murderous whiskers. They could skeletonize a brontosaurus in a matter of minutes. Even the mighty Tyrannosaurus rex -- king of the dinosaurs -- would avoid a mustache encounter at any cost. Known as the Mustacheoic era, this was the mustache’s golden age. Never again would it exist in such great numbers. Never again would it command such respect.
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