Gurney's Inn
March 14, 2007

Low Tidings

Low Tidings

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I have been, over the course of my life, hip, hep, cool ("Cool, Daddy-o," as the beatniks and poets used to say) and also cool (as in "Cool, Dude") as they said in the sixties. I've been groovy (I admit it) and even nifty. I have been neat, neat-o, boss, and rad. I've been up to it, and down with it. I've gotten jiggy wit it many times, albeit usually with myself. I've been amped, crunked up, and I confess in a moment of candor, grody. Anyone who has seen my wardrobe knows that I am chic.

Though I've been at the forefront, the front line and the new wave, and though I'm fresh and think out-of-the box and always on the cutting edge, and although I believe in live-and-let-live and freedom of expression, there is one thing I can't figure out for the life of me, one fad I will never accept, one fashion trend that has absolutely no logic behind it except to make the wearer look like an idiot. Ladies and gentleman, lasses and dudes, babes and foxes, I offer up baggy pants.

I don't get it, man. When I see a guy (a dude) walking down the street with his pants pushed down a foot below his waist (that would bring it down to the crotchal region for those of you keeping score), five sizes too big, a yard of denim dragging below his sneakers on the ground, I believe there can be only one logical explanation:

It is a portable Porto-Potty, a receptacle for poopy.

When I see someone walking around with this look, I can only assume he has repeatedly gone to the bathroom in his pants, and the cumulative weight of the assorted logs produced has caused the pants to seek a lower level where they can best accommodate the load. This is your classic Law of Gravity as proven by Fig Newton.

It honestly appears that several other people could comfortably hide in the pants, which leads me to fear terrorists are being harbored. And speaking of poop, the more your pants drag on the ground, the greater the chance they will come in contact with doggie poop. I have found stepping in doggie poop to be a disgusting predicament indeed, but not nearly as disgusting as actually wearing it.

When researching today's topic (baggy pants, for those you not paying attention) I came across the following newspaper article:

"COVINGTON, La. (AP) Police said they caught a 16-year-old robbery suspect who previously eluded them after his baggy pants fell down, causing him to stumble as officers chased him.

'We literally caught him with his pants down,' Lt. Jack West said."

I did not make this up. Let's dissect this: You're a young thief, looking to make his mark on the criminal world by planning a heist. Think Topkapi, where a group of incredibly suave jewel thieves, dressed sleekly in black tights and tight blouses (and those were the men in the movie) whisper seductively in French accents and glide across the screen, as stylish as could be. Now think of this dopey loser. His pants weigh about 60 pounds, and that's without the bowel accumulation. The belt is around the thighs. They are dragging on the ground three feet behind him. Is this suave? It is definitely not the preferred outfit for sprinting.

Apparently, the "low rider" look originated because prisoners in certain penitentiaries aren't allowed to have belts, the fear being they might hang themselves. Street kids, for some reason, emulated the look. Aspiring to be like a convict, as noble an aspiration as that is, is no excuse for looking like a clown.

At least when I was a young man I dressed sensibly: striped bell-bottoms and a polka dot shirt.

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