At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, November 14, 2016

IT AIN'T THE CIGARS MAKING YOU STUPID

As a necessary change of subject, I shall talk about boxer shorts. Which are, as many men know, a stylish and attractive garment quite unlike "tidy-whities". The problem with "tidy-whities" is that they make you look like you just stepped out of a nineteen-seventies Sears Roebuck or JC Penney catalogue, besides constricting your scrotal details and leading directly to crotch-rot, a fungus affliction which eventually affects the brains of mature cigar-smoking gentlemen in Marin, to whom I have had to listen recently for three solid days.

The infection has made many of them fevered and irrational, and they believe that they are qualified to speak about politics. I've had to hear them pontificate during the entire period leading up to the election, and they have not become one whit more intelligent or convincing.

It's worse, far worse, post-election.

Dunning-Kruger effect.


Marin also suffers from a sickening sense of entitlement, but because that applies to both genders there, it cannot be ascribed to "tidy-whities". Still, it would be best if the women there also wore baggier garments, perhaps for entirely different reasons.


The only problem with boxer shorts, from this blogger's perspective, is that one may not be automatically aware of how they open up in front at a crucial moment. The overlapping fabric fools the panicked fingers, and one fumbles around. And if one of one's coworkers has irritable bowel, and another is cursed with a microscopically-sized nervous bladder, one dare not stay too long in the bathroom. It leads to a strained situation.

Related to that, one may in one's haste to leave the house in the morning (in San Francisco) have rushed the process of dressing a bit, and therefore at the moment one wishes to get rid of that first Marin cup of tea worry that perhaps one put the darned thing on backwards.
Can't feel the opening.

Where is it? Dammital, why does this ALWAYS happen?!?

Shan't mention how often I did put them on wrong way around, but suffice to say those were not my best days, and blue cotton fabric had a lot to do with that. Smooth, comfy, blue cotton.


The more I think about it, the more I am absolutely convinced that women, most particularly the charming ones, need to wear boxer shorts.
Whether they wear them correctly is immaterial.

Perhaps they'd enjoy the feeling of "otherness" at times?
The frisson of ventilation, or its suggestion.
Who knows?

I shall not speculate any further about the clothing of charming women.
Boxer shorts, backwards or not, are enough.
No need for anything else.




I am NOT a dirty old man, by the way.
Nor particularly a cigar smoker.
And I don't live in Marin.

I smoke a pipe.




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