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There are two major occasions each year when you are supposed to give men gifts.
One is Christmas; the other is Father's Day.
You know one of those occasions is nigh when television begins hawking high-tech razors, because advertising folks base their lives on a few simple teachings when it comes to men:
First, all men consider shaving a daily ritual of torture. If men's grooming required us to pull out our fingernails with pliers each morning and dip the bleeding nubs in grain alcohol, it would rank only second to our morning shave, according to advertising executives.
No. 2, all men long for a better razor. Above even beer, trucks and, uh, beer, we want better razors.
Third, men are incapable of buying better razors. Hence, women should buy them for us - on one of the two major male gift-giving occasions.
Ladies: While shaving might occupy 90 seconds each morning that I would otherwise spend scratching myself or drinking directly from the orange juice carton, it doesn't hurt.
It never did.
In the beginning, men shaved with a round rock, which was comfortable and easy, but ineffective. Then there were flint scrapers, a bit better, but - basing my historical knowledge entirely on the film Braveheart - only a slight improvement.
Then came the straight razor, a dangerous device invented by women angry about the high-heeled shoe.
That led to the "safety" razor, an unsafe, double-edged blade designed to draw blood, even from people who aren't shaving or in the same room.
Finally came the disposable single-blade razor - about as much as most men need.
Alas for razor makers, disposables are cheap, and I use the same one for months, until even the plastic handle rusts.
"There's gotta be more," razor makers figured. They're like baking soda producers. No one bakes with baking soda. So to sell it, they concoct new uses.
All of these suggestions actually come from Arm & Hammer Baking Soda: brush your teeth with it; gargle with it; use it as an antacid; pour it in your bathwater; rub it on your feet; clean your floor with it; put it in your armpits; stash it in your refrigerator and replace it with a new box every once in a while; sprinkle it on your garbage; and, my favorite, buy it and dump it down the toilet. Seriously.
Not to be outdone, razor makers came out with double blades, the standard of excellence for many years. The battle escalated to the triple-blade razor, and then . . . the Schick Quattro, with "four precisely synchronized blades."
Whoa, "synchronized."
Engineers at Gillette dropped their quest for a car that runs on water and introduced us this year to M3Power! Only three blades, true, but the handle has a tiny motor inside that makes everything vibrate.
This I had to try. Because I am a guy. Because I am a gullible knucklehead.
It has 62 patents. It costs $14. It vibrates as "gentle micro-pulses stimulate hair up and away from skin."
Whoa, "stimulate."
The video clip on the Web site shows hair follicles dancing on the surface of a cartoon cheek. The hairs look like those worms that live on the sea bottom and sway in the current. I've seen them in Jacques Cousteau documentaries.
The M3Power has a replaceable battery, which Gillette also makes.
I lathered up and hacked away with my 21st century male grooming system.
Just like they promised on the package, it was a "totally new shaving experience."
Because, unlike any other shaving experience I've ever had, my hand vibrated while I shaved.
Maybe I got a closer shave, or maybe that's just because the disposable razor I've been using is 4 months old. But I found shaving with the M3Power went slower, and the floppy razor head (sorry, "responsive") made it impossible to jam the blades up the nose to trim those pesky upper-lip whiskers.
I'm going to try to turn it in to the company as a business expense.
Ha ha, that'll be fun!
Next male gift-giving occasion, forget the television ads. If you think we're looking a bit scruffy, just tell us to go shave.
And buy us beer.