I’m Wolf Blitzer’s Beard And I Don’t Get Nearly Enough Credit
Top three beards in history. Go.
2. Abraham Lincoln
3. Wolf Blitzer
What do these legendary beards have in common? They innovate. In sixth-century China, everyone had facial hair, but Confucius cultivated six-inch eyebrows to lift his beard onto a higher path. In the Civil War-era United States mustaches were all the rage, but what did Lincoln do? He emancipated his upper lip with a mother flipping reverse mustache. Now, in this 21st century, everyone insists you either have a beard or you don’t. They categorize the beard.
He both has a beard and doesn’t have a beard at the same time.
He has me to thank for that — though he doesn’t. I’m Wolf Blitzer’s beard. How do I do it? How did I become Schrodinger’s whiskers? How do I blanket that cherubically erudite face with ash follicles, yet give you a full view of the sexy, elder-statesman topography beneath? A magician never reveals his secrets.
What you should be asking is this: would Wolf Blitzer be where he is today without me?
I’m sure you all saw him, basking in the presidential election spotlight on CNN, grimacing professionally as he delivered monotoned segues to Dana Bash and Jake Tapper. Ever wonder how he got that job in the first place? You guessed it. Me. Wolf bombed that interview. The CNN execs overlooked his sweaty, stammering word-salad because they were too busy staring at moi. I entranced them.
I’m aware of the effect I have on you all. You flip to CNN and think:
Is this guy living out of his car? No, the stubble is too well-groomed.
Did he set his electric razor incorrectly when he shaved this morning? No, it was like this last week, too.
If this guy’s name wasn’t Wolf Blitzer none of this would make sense.
Before me, Wolfy was bullied mercilessly. An elfin high achiever with glasses is no Wolf. He’s a Melvin. The irony of his fierce name only emphasized his diminutive nerdery. I came along, and suddenly my dusting of silver along his visage rendered him positively lupine. With me in the picture, people looked at him and thought: Now, that’s a Wolf! Of course a guy named Blitzer rocks an unconventional beard. He must be quite the anchoring rogue.
Wolf Blitzer doesn’t work without me. As a journalist, he’s serviceable, at best. He’s a besuited Alexa with a mesmerizing beard. Has he ever offered anything thought-provoking? Have you ever chuckled at one of his jokes? Have you ever reacted with anything other than dim awareness that words were newsily spoken by a guy with gloriously ethereal stubble?
He’s Garfunkel. Except, as far as I know, Wolf doesn’t have a “Bridge over Troubled Water” equivalent. He’s more like Kevin Federline. Remember that guy? He married Brittney Spears in 2004? Wolf would never be able to pull an obscure pop-culture reference out of his ass like that. He would have said: “This just in, a bunch of nothing happened in the middle of Nowhere, Wisconsin. Here’s Attractive Person with a microphone with more.” Boring.
I want a little credit. I deserve it. Without me, Wolf Blitzer is another nameless journalism geek manning an underfunded anchor desk in Vanilla, Illinois. With me, he’s a flipping rock star. If he keeps treating me this way, I will seek employment elsewhere.
Can you visualize me on the majestic countenance of John King? The resulting being would transcend this mortal plane and reach a new fourth estate of existence. The explosion of our ascension would ripple through space and time in an echoing challenge of power that would rouse the old gods from their cosmic slumber.
In the end, would John Beard-King overcome a raging Cthulhu? I don’t know. We can forestall that bleak future by appreciating me right now. All I ask is to be acknowledged.
I’m Wolf Blitzer, and alongside me, as always — is Wolf Blitzer’s beard.