Here’s Shia LaDouche running all over Venice, CA yesterday afternoon while looking like an Amish hipster who is spending his rumspringa working as a roadie on the Bon Iver tour. This whole look is a scraggly, raggedy mess and none of it goes together. That slicked black ponytail belongs on a pervy comic book store clerk who spends his lunch hour jerking off into a coffee cup before trying to give it to unsuspecting people on the street (tip: don’t take free coffee from Shia). That beard belongs on a bear’s ass after it got a full body Ogilvie home perm. Those earphones belong in a Hazmat dumpster, because you know they’re covered in ear barf since Shia doesn’t wash in there.
I love a big, bushy beard, because it will scrub the dead skin and pimples off of your butt cheeks while you sit on its owner’s face, but I wouldn’t hit it. How can I hit a piece who obviously stole my abuelita’s house cardigan?