It’s easy to confuse the two. After all, the Hairy Man has the same wild look in his eyes. His hands are leathery. He smells like raw earth. He has a dangerous, even terrible, burning look. He cannot be controlled, coaxed, or manipulated. He simmers with the white-hot fires of quiet intensity; he radiates a pulsing and living strength. The Hairy Man is no mindless savage or barbarian. He’s not Vlad the Impaler. Far from it. He is—in the words of Mr. Beaver—“not a tame lion. But he is good.” The Hairy Man represents our strength. Our sexuality.
