Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Pants, Pants, Pants

You gotta wear pants! Everywhere you go people are all, "Yo! Where're your pants!?" It's all I friggin' hear about these days!

Pants this, pants that. You go to a dance, people expect pants! Well, maybe I don't jive in this manner! Maybe I don't swing in this way! Maybe I don't jitterbug in such a fashion! Maybe they never actually changed the Oreo recipe and the cream is still made from animal! Think about it!

You hide me?! You hide the TRUTH!!! Pants?! Maybe in the future! Maybe on my head?! Seems more practical to me. Yo! Asshole! He hides as well.

Profound pants poetry panders to punkasses and pantsologists (who study ways to make the zipper less likely to stick and the crotch more infrequent in its bunching). Can you fit a sandwich in your pants pocket? No? Then tell me what good they are!? Tell me! Arrg!

You think on this and you think on it goddamned well and good:

One man's pants is a crazy man's hat.

I am off to the Salvation Army. The midday sun has become too much for my fragile scalp.