Tuesday, February 18, 2014

A Discourse on Improper Attire

     It's good to back at Fishbrick.  It has been quite a while since I posted anything, but my lawyers advised against my blogging anything until my lawsuit against the Little Sisters of the Poor was cleared up.  Now that that's out of the way, I would like to comment on an alarming fashion trend.
     The past few years I have noticed an increasing number of people going about in public dressed in pajama pants.  Often these people wear bedroom slippers to complete the ensemble.  I have given some thought to what may be motivating these folks to go to such extremes to dress down for public consumption and I think it must be one of two things: either extreme laziness or callous disrespect for their fellow man, a deeply entrenched misanthropy, if you will. 
    If it is laziness, then it is the kind of laziness that even I, a lazy man, cannot come close to fathoming.  It is the kind of laziness that throws garbage out its kitchen window, or even fails to make the effort to open the window at all and keeps the garbage in a pile on the floor.  It's the kind of laziness that eats meals in bed, that can't be bothered to flush the toilet, that only showers in extreme emergencies, that can't be bothered to pick up a dropped sandwich, that would never dream of walking down an escalator, but must stand like a lump until it reaches the bottom.  And I will bet you, the reader (if there is a reader out there) that it is the kind of laziness that, after using the facilities in public or private (and not flushing) would never make the effort to wash its indolent hands.  To this kind of laziness, even putting on a pair of sweatpants and slipping on some unlaced boots would be an endeavor of herculean effort, downright unthinkable.
     The other possible motivation for public display of pajama pants, as I said, is disrespect toward one's fellow man.  I imagine an inner monologue inside this slovenly misanthrope as going something like this:  "Oh, how I despise mankind!  I must do everything I can to make my neighbor's life unpleasant, for no man but I deserve to experience beauty.  Surely ugliness and disorder must be the lot of the creatures who surround me in my daily activities.  They are all loathsome dogs, and such dogs deserve nothing but the very worst from me.  From this day forward, I vow to make all men, women and children feel the disdain I have for them by making them gaze upon my horrid pajama pants and bedroom slippers.  They shall feel consternation and rage, discomfort and even fear as they feast their lowly eyes upon my raiment.  Only when I am home will I change into the luxurious designer-labeled clothing I have purchased for my private use.  My shoes will I shine, my hair  will I comb, my fingernails will I buff.  And nobody but I will ever feast eyes upon my loveliness as none but I am deserving of such a privilege.  For the world, pajama pants!  For me, sartorial splendor!"  
     Yes, that's probably what these people are thinking. 

Coming soon:  an epic poem about people who wear short pants in the dead of winter.


Neil said...

This is truly one of the funniest blog posts I've seen here this year! Keep up the work.

August said...

I saw pajama pants just this morning and thought how sad it was, because I know this particular person can arrange herself into some semblance of a lady.
Tattoos and pajama pants tend to stop me cold. POOR IMPULSE CONTROL is what flashes before my mind, especially with tattoos. I suspect the pajama pants facilitate poor impulse control- apparently one must be prepared to jump into bed at a moment's notice.

Neil said...

Yes. You never know when a bed might pop up somewhere.