Because If he had friends, true friends, they would tell him straight up – dude, don’t fight it man. Just go bald.

Clearly Brendan has no friends. And he no longer has a wife either. Maybe that’s why he’s trying to save his manhood by faking his hair. Or maybe this is what prompted her to leave. I’d seriously consider doing the same if I woke up one morning to the hair plugs from hell in my bed. 

Not only is it horror to look at, it also implies the kind of desperate vanity that is always, every time, an instant quiveration killer. When a man is clinging, clinging to every last vestige of youthful hotness he might have had (questionable in Brendan’s case anyway) instead of taking a more chill approach to aging: whatever happens, I’m good with it. 

Isn’t that so much sexier? At the very least, isn’t it sexier than what he’s rockin’ now? 

This is Brendan at Showest yesterday.

I feel itchy just looking at his head. And frightened looking at whatever peels and treatments he’s applied to his face.

He’s like an Asian baby now. My people, our hair grows UP, you see. Not out but UP. Spiky and straight. And we’re not a hairy lot either. Which is why we so rarely look good in short hair. Girls I mean. 

The difference between Brendan and an Asian baby of course is that an Asian baby is a baby. And babies are cute.

Asian babies are not grown men well into their 30s with an inch of scalp in between transplanted follicles. F*ck. Ew! 

Photos from