Now don’t get me wrong, even though a few vents in the armpits and some breeze over the knees does make it convenient to air my dirty laundry, I don’t intentionally wear this stuff out in public to be COOL like the ripped jean teen scene. No, the truth is that even down at the local Goodwill my BAD BILL style has its own ‘last chance’ rack, where my favorite garb is beat, cheap and barely a button away from prison. Isn't most stuff in life perceived as 'nearly new' when only 5% of its utility is gone - so why does society's rules suddenly change when it comes to underwear, Band-aids, and dental floss?
Are we really so shallow that if I wear an otherwise perfectly pressed polo, the whole world should stop and focus on that barely-there Brazil-shaped spaghetti sauce stain, springing from my breast pocket? What is it – are they concerned that I’ll be embarrassed or are they just afraid I may uncontrollably leak some kind of contagious bodily fluid on their floor? I don’t know about you, but if I had to discard every stained or holey garment in my arsenal, I would be left with even fewer FRUITS on my loom than Adam was after he gummed that apple with Eve.
Anyway I have a theory that over the eons, those successive grease spots have knitted together heroically to help waterproof my wardrobe, cuirass my closet, and keep the stitches in my britches. What other explanation can there be as my tattered togas and shredded skivvies continue to hold-up in the face (or the rear as it were) of constant danger and heavy fire? Hey I know I don’t give a ‘Carnegie’ about my clothing but believe it or not I do dress for success. Oh sure I may not always Win over odor-free friends like you have but I can honestly say the way I dress DOES influence people – to STAY AWAY.
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