I couldn’t ignore the front row. “Nice handlebars!” 🤣 This man’s mustache was a work of art.

I am so sorry. I gotta stop. Sir.

Sir, right here in the front row. I have to… I have to address this.

I’ve been on stage for ten minutes. I’ve been trying to tell my jokes. My very well-crafted, pre-written jokes. But I can’t.

Because I am mesmerized.

Sir, with all the respect in the world… Nice handlebars! 😂

(The comedian breaks, laughing, as the crowd roars and the spotlight finds the man.)

Look at this! This is not a mustache, ladies and gentlemen. This is… this is an art installation. This is a piece of facial architecture.

You didn’t just “grow” that. You “curated” that. You sculpted that. You woke up every day for, what, six years? And just… willed this into existence.

I have so many questions.

First of all, what’s your name, sir?

(Leans down with the mic)

“Ron.”

Of course your name is Ron. You look like you’re about to challenge me to a bare-knuckle boxing match in a 1920s saloon.

Ron, I’m fascinated by the logistics. How much time do you spend on that in the morning? Be honest.

(Ron holds up two fingers, “Two minutes.”)

Two minutes! You’re a liar, Ron! There is product in that. I can see the sheen from here. You are waxing that thing. You’ve got a little tin of pomade in your pocket, don’t you?

You spend more time on your upper lip than I spend on my entire life.

How do you eat?! How do you eat soup?

You can’t. You can’t eat soup. You just… hold the bowl near it and absorb the broth, right? It’s just a flavor-saver. You drink a beer, you’re just saving half of it for a snack later. It’s a “foam-catcher.”

And who are you here with? Is this lovely lady your wife?

Ma’am, hi. What’s your name?

(Leans over to her)

“Brenda.”

Brenda. Brenda. You are a saint. Or a liar. One of the two.

You let this happen? You woke up one day, he rolled over, and you were like, “You know what would be great? If you just… kept growing that… upwards“?

How do you kiss this man, Brenda?

That’s not a kiss. That’s a dusting. You’re not kissing Ron. You’re kissing a small, well-groomed mammal that lives on his face. You go in for a peck, you come back, you’ve got a mouth full of… conditioner. It’s a whole ordeal.

Ron, I’m not even mad. I’m impressed. That is a level of confidence I will never, ever possess. You walked out of the house today, looked in the mirror, and said, “Nailed it. The world is ready for all this.”

Give it up for Ron and his magnificent handlebars, everybody! 🤣