Beards are beautiful. Yes, they are. No one can argue, because it’s a fact, not a matter of opinion (as this section would have you believe). And everyone should be able to have a beard at one point in his (or her) life. But there is a problem. Due to genetics and other scientific things of which I have no knowledge, not everyone can have a naturally grown beard.

I know this first hand, because only recently have I been able to grow a beard- and a scraggly one at that. I can still remember my days when I was beardless. They were hardly worth living. I wanted a beard so much that most days I could barely motivate myself to go to class. However, that changed when I realized I could grow a beard. I had a new lease on life, but that’s a different story.

The fact remains: some people want beards but cannot grow them. So what are these people to do if they want a beard? Cry endlessly? Drop out of college out of sheer embarrassment? Gaze longingly at Walt Whitman and Martin Buber?

Fortunately, there is a solution that does not involve any of these: fake beards. We now have the technology to make any style of beard and to make it look realistic. My advice to Creighton would be to capitalize on this untapped resource. Selling beards has the potential to raise enough money to fund another dormitory or athletic center far from campus –whichever seems more appropriate. While there is potential, making it a reality is a hairy subject.

Creighton could not just sell beards out of the bookstore. No, that would be too embarrassing. Think of it: a smooth-cheeked freshman wants a beard but is too unconfident to purchase it openly, so he ends up going beardless and remains ashamed of his lack of facial follicles. This situation could have been avoided if Creighton were to create some sort of anonymous transaction, maybe online, that would guarantee the identity of the purchaser to remain a secret. And in this way every party would win.

There could be a link on the bookstore’s website that would direct potential beard buyers to an area that would have every beard imaginable available for purchase: the French fork, the Abe Lincoln, mutton chops, the goatee and more. Creighton could even expand to moustaches or different lengths of the same beard to provide the illusion that the beard was growing. But I digress. Once the order had been submitted, the beard would arrive in the student’s mailbox in a discrete, unmarked package. Beard in hand and completely anonymous, the student would be free to revel in the glory of being bearded.

With this service, Creighton would not only raise a considerable amount of money – heck, I’d even buy a couple in case I needed a beard on short notice– but it would also provide a service to all the beardless people at Creighton. In a way, Creighton would not just be selling beards. Nay, Creighton would be selling self confidence, machismo, style and a way of life.