I am not dead.

That is all.

I am, however, getting older. Proof is the white hair in my mustache. It means I'm on my way to distinguished gentlemanhood.

On that note, if you have a bearded friend, it is your duty to inform them if they have foodstuffs in their beard. They'd rather have that short moment of embarassment in front of you than unknowing walk around in public with a potato chip in their beard for two hours.