Your mustache of the day: Tim Brewster, Minnesota coach and early eighties 'stache aficianado.

Notes:

a.) That hair is a butt cut straight from the head of the primordial Sumerian god of butt cuts. It is cleaved like the fissure from which all life comes, the kind of haircut that would happen if you went to a barber and said "make it look like I have a deep axe wound along the crown of my head, but made of hair. That is the hair that send a thousand skinny dweebs flying inside of a locker. That is the hair seen crowning through the t-top of a Trans-Am's roof. That is the hair seen wiggling between the legs of a thousand girls named Linda or Josie in a backseat parked outside an REO Speedwagon concert.

That hair will keep on loving you.

That hair, we would wager, is seen on at least one out of every three heads in archival footage of the 1986 Green Bay Packers. It is the Midwestern Pussy Hunter's Pith Helmet, and can be neatly replicated with a Flowbee, a hair dryer, and flat, non-curly coiffures.

Today, every man besides Brewster who has this haircut has a goatee and wears baseball caps everywhere. This is a natural law and cannot be debated.

b.) That 'stache sold car stereos in a shop in Kenosha for a while back in '83 before doing a bid for check kiting.

(HT: Lost Lettermen.)