For this task Bloody Beard got in an accident with a dear, dear, friend. Concrete. Concrete has housed BB, it has lifted him up. On this day, Concrete kicked BB's ass. Here are pictures.

"So why", you may well ask, "Why, Bloody Beard-"
And I would interrupt and say, "Please, call me BB."
So you would then well ask, "BB, why would you consider this a happy accident?"
To which I would respond, "No, keep calling me Bloody Beard, it sounds more menacing. I like menacing."
"Answer the goddamn question!"
"Fine, no need to get touchy." I would then clear my throat and say, "I'm glad you asked me.
"You see, this accident has given me the opportunity, nay, the obligation, to address a very serious issue facing our community.
"Gravity." I would then pause for dramatic effect. "That's right, Barbara. Gravity."
You would say, "Who's Barbara?"
"Gravity attacked me," I would say, ignoring you, "without provocation. Not only that but it did not stop at the scene of the accident - oh, no it did not! It kept right on going as if it hadn't just left me ruining a brand new shirt with my beard blood.
"And the day of my attack? September the eleventh."
That's right folks. 9/11.

9/11.
I'll let you form your own opinions of what this may mean. Is gravity a terrorist? Was it out to stop my freedom loving ways? Could this all be a CIA plot? Why has heroin production increased in my beardal region since the US army invaded and secured it? Where is Osama hiding?
I may not know exactly where Osama is, but I can tell you one thing for damn sure. Wherever he is, gravity is there with him.