I could write a dissertation on shorts. The reasons I could do such a thing lie mainly within the fact that I have no idea what the word dissertation means. Meh. I didn’t go to university, the only place they seem to use that word. The other reason is because shorts are a hot topic. Hot pants, if you will. That’s also a song by James Brown. If he released that song today, I guarantee you it would be a Christmas number one.
We have the British to thank for every major invention since 1800, and the story was no different with this most unbeguiling of inventions, shorts. The British military wanted to keep its soldiers cool in places such as Bermuda. Did they invent the fan? No. Did they decide that hey, maybe the world doesn’t want to be invaded and brutalized by the British? No. They invented shorts. Typical British. Before that, we had long, long military garb. If anything, you may be thinking, “Well, the British removing clothing is most unusual”. Well, yes, but the military kept the socks. And introduced sandals. So, really, they weren’t sure what they were doing. First, they give us shorts. Then, they gave us socks with shorts. And finally, shorts, socks and sandals. Everything the modern pensioner desires.
Of course, it’s always been a wildly held common belief that grown men shouldn’t wear shorts. They look ridiculous. The men. Well, the shorts, too. Apparently, they’re coming back into fashion. A turn of events that has left me weeping for humanity. It’s getting worse. It’s another strong push toward metrosexuality. I mean, in California, men have gone so far as to have dumped the shorts and gone straight to a thong. Thongs weren’t really designed for men, so I can see a lot of things I don’t really want to see. It’s like when people are carrying their shopping home in those clear plastic bags. The bagger has clearly not organized their food correctly, heavy on bottom, light on top, and, as a result, the heavy stuff is on top and, at the bottom, you can see two very squashed peaches. That is truly horrifying.
The modern man wants to show off his smooth legs and his bikini lines. His tan. His manicured nails. Fair enough, but men are meant to be manly. Meant to have pasty white legs, awful knobbly knees, terrible feet and legs agog in fatty folds. Like mine. Of course, not every male short wearer is metrosexual. Some actually are the hairy kind. And, if anything, that’s more horrific than the squashed peaches fella. Quite simply put – men shouldn’t wear shorts. Or sandals. Or socks with either said item.
Sure, it’s okay for children, but even then I didn’t wear them. I was in New York City in 100° Fahrenheit heat and I wore jeans and a t-shirt. I was 18-years-old. I had a drink near The Flatiron Building outside a bar, feet crossed, enjoying the landscape. I felt like a man. What would that have felt like if I were wearing shorts? No idea. I wouldn’t have left the hotel.
People can do as they wish. I have no qualms with people who choose to wear shorts. But my personal opinion? God no. Just, just – no. Not in any way, shape or form.
The Friday Bonus Question:
Plucked from the basement of the internet, a bewildering real question that defies logic and an answer, here for you to ponder:
I have a lemon stuck in my bellybutton. Can you help?
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