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Our mustache of the day takes you hair by hair into the world of Mandom whether you want to or not: Bronson. A wispy Asiatic hair signature whose Tartar black hairs just dare you to fight, lose, and then be shot like the punk you know you are.

Charles Bronson met his second wife when she was married to a co-star of his. He told the man, "I'm gonna marry your wife," and two years later he was giving her the Dirty Dozen nightly in a legal fashion. He also went to work in the coal mines of Pennsylvania when he was 11 and was so poor he had to wear his sister's dress to school when he was six. We're doing this to little Urban Steven Swindle as soon as we can--such humiliation turns you into pure, undiluted badass as Bronson.

Charles Bronson is also on record as saying he was "too masculine" for the American viewing public. Fortunately for men like him and Bea Arthur, he was wrong, wrong, wrong. We just didn't know what man was until you walked in, grimaced at us while wearing a turtleneck, and then shot us dead. Did we deserve to be gunned down? Yes, we did. Because we were punks. And Charles Bronson and his magnificent nose pedestal shot punks like they should be shot until death came to claim the punk-sweeper himself.

Not that he died--no, Charles Bronson took one steely look at the Grim Reaper, smiled, and then shot Death before sidestepping Human Resources and taking the job himself.

Happy Mustache Wednesday, motherfuckers!