White men are cloning.

All white men have started to look identical. Am I out of line here? Look around the city you live in and tell me I'm wrong. Not even 'Hey, you kinda look like him.' Nope. It's as if all white men are from the same mother.

"Hey, man. Are all your brothers at Comic-Con with you?"

"I don't have any brothers."

"What!? Whoa. That's weird, man. These guys all look like you! Are you sure your mom didn't have like twenty thousand kids she didn't tell you about?"

"I'm sure if my mother had had that many kids I would have met at least one of them."

"Whoa! Now you're over here? Man, I thought THAT guy was you. I was wondering how you threw your voice."

"I'm right here."

"You did it again!"

White men almost all look identical today and there are a few common threads that make this so.

One of these commonalities is a beard. The beard trend has become huge amongst white men. You can't go anywhere without seeing them. There haven't been this many beards on white men since the 1850's gold rush.

"'Scuse me, fellow gold sifter, but do you happen to know where an honest, work-a-day prospector like myself could do a little prospectin'?"

"I have no idea. I know I have a beard and I look like I pan for gold as I am also currently barefoot, but I am just a man who works at the Apple store."

"The Apple store? Can't believe there is now a store that just sells apples. I haven't had an apple in years. 'Spose that's why the doctors been a chasing me! (<cough cough>) Well, ol' Prospect Pete here is gonna hit the hills. If you ever want to go diving for gold, you have the look."

White men want beards so bad, even white men who can't grow one or don't look like they should have a beard have one. Beards used to just be for bikers, bad guy wrestlers and villains from eighties action movies. Now? There are a lot of patchy, wispy beards on twelve-year-old looking men.

"Okay, don't freak out, but I think there are about twelve bee legs stuck to your face."

"It's a beard, okay?! A beard!"

"...You sure it's not bee legs? Beards usually cover the whole face... and bee legs are sometimes known to explode off of a bee and stick to a humans fa... either way. Looks great."

Laziness had to be a factor at first. White men just didn't want to shave.

"These kids on Xbox LIVE can't see me, so what am I shaving for? That's right, me, I ain't! Deal with that, face! My face!"

I, at one point, also had a beard. Then one night I had a show. There were three white men with beards on before me, and then I had to go up as if we didn't all look like a special task force.

"Those guys? No. We are not part of a comedy troupe called 'The Beards That Can' that for some reason performs one at a time. I know it looks that way. As if we all share a van and travel together, but we don't!"

I shaved it the next day. Way too many beards in the beard game. I had to get out.

For some reason as well, the beard is usually coupled with the tiniest body on the planet. A sixty-seven pound white man will have a thick beard and barely the strength to carry it. They have a face that says they'll cut down a tree, and in most cases, arms that say they couldn't even climb one.

"Dude, you're looking pretty rugged."

"Thanks, man. Pretty sweet beard, huh?"

"Yeah, man. From the neck up – woodsman. From the neck down – twelve-year-old girl held captive in Libya. Not a bad look by any means, but man, your beard might weigh more than your chest."

"...What? ...Sorry, I didn't hear you. These crippling hunger pains sometimes block my hearing."

"Do you want a sandwich, man?"

"No way. It'll crumble all over my sweet beard."

Why are we becoming so small? Have white men decided to not eat as some sort of self-punishment for how well we've had it for so long?

"Guys, look. You know while we sit here at this cottage, eating burgers that have cheese infused inside and drinking a limitless supply of beer, there are people on this planet who don't even have ONE burger? Let alone a cheese infused one?"

"...That's nuts. Do they have beer?"

"That's it. I'm not eating anymore. Not until all is right with the world. I've had it white and right for too long. This time next year, I'll have lost half of myself!"

"Are you gonna finish that cheese infused burger?"

"Yes! This all starts tomorrow. Crank up The Hip!"

Along with beards and baby frames, white men have also decided that there is going to be one shoe that we all should wear. That shoe? A pirate shoe. Ah, the pirate shoes. You know the ones I mean. You've seen them. The 'dress' shoes that have buckles on them? Or better yet, the actual pirate boots that have buckles that are worn with tight pants or jeans? Jeans! Imagine. Wearing a pirate boot without a swashbuckling sword on your hip, or a satchel of doubloons in your pocket! A boot that was left over from the wardrobe department of 'Pirates of the Caribbean'.

"Cut! That's a wrap! Good work, everyone! That's movie number three in the can. What a shoot, huh guys? Everyone give your costumes back to the costume department."

"Um, sir? I don't know if you have noticed, but there is a group of barefoot white men outside who are screaming for the boots?"

"The boots? I thought they were here for Keira Knightley?"

"Well, yes, her too, sir. But they are much too afraid to talk to her without the, as they put it, 'Magical powers of the mystical and enchanting pirate boot'."

"...Hmmm ...Well, I guess… throw them over the fence. Wait, white men want these boots? I'm a white man! They must know something I don't know! I won't miss this boat. Give me a pirate boot!"

Paired with the beard, the pirate shoe, and the emaciated death body, is almost undoubtedly a plaid shirt. The plaid shirt is as important to the beard-having, pirate-shoe-wearing, 'not gonna eat until I'm the same weight as a toddler in a tiara' white man as the cape is to Batman. You'll never see Batman without his cape.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I seem to have misplaced all your capes."

"Okay, well, until you find them, Gotham will just burn."

"Sir! You can't do that! Innocent people need your help!"

"'Innocent people need your help'. God, I didn't lose my capes, Alfred. Okay? You did. Innocent people die; it's your fault. I'm gonna go out there without my cape? Does a cop hit the streets without a gun? Do you play basketball without a ball? I'm eating these Doritos. Let me know when you find them."

Just like Batman needs his cape, it doesn't seem that white men can leave their house without plaid anymore.

"Honey, have you seen my plaid shirts?"

"Yeah. I took them to the dry cleaners."

"You took two full closets worth of plaid to the cleaners? What the hell is wrong with you? I have such a busy week! What am I going to wear to the bar? Or the wedding I have to go to? Or my graduation? Or my dad's funeral? Or that job interview I have? Did you even think about these things!"

Soon, the plaid shirt will replace the actual color white as the sign of the race. That will be what you have to answer when filling out a form.

"Hmmm, what race am I? Latino, African American, Plaid. Well, I'm not wearing a Latino shirt!"

A lot of times, the plaid shirt isn't even enough. Maybe it's a little chilly out or you just want to show off buttons. So what do you put on? A cardigan. This one makes me upset. Why? Because I used to love cardigans. I started wearing them a while ago. Then I started to notice that a few others were wearing them. Until one day, I decided I had to get out of the cardigan game. I walked into a place and boom! Cardigans everywhere. As if we had all decided beforehand that we were going to start a boy band.

"Okay, guys, N'Sync was pretty cool, right? Why don't we do something like that?"

"Yeah! What will we wear, though?"

"Can I not be Joey?"

"Sure, whatever. I don't know. Has to be all the same thing, but with just slightly different colors. Maybe something to keep us warm on an already warm night... I got it! Cardigans!"

"Cardigans! That's great! I love cardigans!"

"Can I not be Joey?"

"Shut up, Steve, or you're not in Cardi-garden."

"Man, great name!"

"Thank you. It just came to me!"

Have white men decided that we're all going to band together? As some sort of super unit? Like the Power Rangers? If we all wear the same things, we'll form into one giant, super white person?

"We can't morph until we ALL are wearing the same thing! Someone get that baby a plaid diaper! We'll all be one and listening to Radiohead in no time! On three. One, two, three... Caucasian stampede!"

"...It didn't work..."

"There must be a white man out there who still thinks it's 2003 and is wearing a jersey! Hunt him down and KILL HIM!"

Was there one white man who decided that if you were in this race, there was one look we all have to go with? Was it Zach Galifianakis?

"Hello, every white man. As you know, over the last few years, I have become very popular and made a lot of money."

"How'd you do it! What's your secret! Can you teach us?!"

"Calm down. I gathered this convention of all the Caucasian race to give you my secrets."

"Is it being funny? That's it, right!"

"Security! Take this one out of here."

"Nooooo! I'm sorry! You can't throw me out there with nothing! Teach me! TEACH ME!" (<Security throws man through a door. >)

"...Now that he's gone, let's get to it. The secret to white man's success from here on out is A BEARD AND PLAID!"

(Gasps)

"I know. At first I didn't believe it either. But once I grew a beard and obtained a plaid shirt, the world really opened up for me. So to succeed, you must all wear plaid!"

"...Um ...I don't mean to be rude here, I mean, I'm happy about the conference and everything, but... I'm not a fan of plaid."

"Not a fan of plaid? Are you a fan of being an outcast? Of being an outsider? Of not fitting into the white race anymore! That's the territory you are walking, my friend!"

You cannot tell these people apart. Women dating these guys must lose them all the time.

"Hey, where did you go? Ninety percent of the guys in this bar look like you! Oh well, I'll just grab this man here. I'm sure he's in love with The Beatles as well."

"Hey, Christine! I'm actually your boyfriend! Remember we were here a couple of weeks ago? Well, you left without me?"

"Really? Wow. That other guy looked just like you! I wondered why though he couldn't remember where the Juiceman Juicer was."

"In the cabinet on top of..."

"The fridge! Oh, I've missed you. Please don't go get a drink without me. I never want to mistake you for literally any other man on the planet again."

I don't really understand how men don't care about this at all. If a woman walks into a place and sees that another woman has her exact outfit on, she at least notices. Depending on the situation, she might be upset.

"Oh, God. She has the exact same dress as me! Damn. Now I have to fake an illness and leave or 'accidentally' spill wine on her so she leaves. This place does have an open bar... accident it is!"

Do men not have that at all? Not even in the slightest? Just have the ability to walk into a room, notice every other man looks exactly like you do, and not care? I'm surprised they're not speaking in unison.

"The best Beatle by FAR is John Lennon. I mean for one, look at him? He's got the hair, the mysterious look in his eye. He's all for world peace. Way better than Paul."

"...Ashley, am I crazy, or did those two men just stare into each other's eyes and say the exact same words to each other?"

"No, Sarah. You're not crazy. It may be time to go back to dating jocks."

If you are a white man with a beard, a plaid shirt, a cardigan and pirate shoes, look at yourself in the mirror and tell me if you can even see yourself.

"Whoa! That's weird. I see Tim and Chris and Jeff and my brother, but... I don't see me. Well, I guess I'll just do the chant three times. I am different. I am different. I am diff... no I'm not."