This is my friend Evan, rocking a moustache that would have set the world on fire in 1976. Evan would look perfectly at home in a Corvette Stingray, Pam Grier in the passenger's seat and a vial of cocaine in the glove compartment. But this isn't the seventies. Evan does not, to my knowledge, own a Corvette. His evil wife doesn't approve of the moustache, and he well knows the perils of the coca plant in its refined, powder form. Yes, the world has changed. Moustache acceptance has steadily degenerated in the last 30 years. No matter! See how well it holds up in these days of moustache persecution? Evan's moustache is real, and you can tell he didn't just trim this thing all willy-nilly. This moustache makes a statement--full enough to show he is a man, untamed enough to say fuck you! to the the man. Short of getting a neck tattoo or throwing your shoes at the president, I can't think of any better way to express that sentiment.
Very few guys can get away with a moustache anymore; even fewer have the guts to try. Trust me, Evan hears the whispers, he sees the pointed fingers. He's had to surrender his scoutmaster badge permanently. He's been called a douchebag so many times he's lost count, and still he walks tall. That's why it's a no brainer to give Evan's moustache the official McBone Seal of Approval: McB.
McBone, the NOML, the NIML and all subsidiary groups are proud of you, Evan, for your bold decision to go against the grain, against your friends and family, and choose moustache. You have taken the road less traveled by, and we salute you!