Wear a Loincloth. Save Your Brains.

Loincloth posterAt the risk of breaking some unspoken taboo around saying the word loincloth too frequently for modern society, I’m coming forward with the end all solution to air travel security.

I mean, am I the only one freaking out over the rash (two) of contrived UEDs (undergarment explosive devices)? How can this stand? And what sort of security molestation will we be subject to next?

All travelers upon commercial airlines should be required to wear a standard uniform–the loincloth.

But never fear. There is a simple solution.

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Sippy Cups and Carpet

sippy cupThey say necessity is the mother of invention. I say stupidity is the father. Sure, war has produced many of humanities greatest and worst inventions. But couldn’t we have avoided most of these wars in the first place if humanity didn’t consist of 48% numb-nuts and 37% dill-weeds? (statistics may not represent actual data).

Where would Marie Curie’s discovery of polonium and radium actually gotten us without the Manhattan Project? And if Ben Franklin hadn’t excepted the drunken, double-dog dare to tie a key to a kite? But where am I going with this? Sippy cups and carpet.

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One True Pants: Anniversary and Wake

bowed headWe’ve done it. The process has taken every bit of tensile strength OTP could muster. But the day has come. It’s official. OneTruePants are dead. Long live OneTruePants.

At midnight tonight it will have been 365 days that the same pair of hemp pants have adorned my blessed lower half. (Heroic music begins as OTP montage rolls.) We’ve had some great times together, and nothing less than the glory of the afterlife will be able to fill the drafty emptiness OTP will leave behind (in all our hearts). But the pants are truly spent.

Through summer heat, winter chill, dirty diapers, spit-up, diarrhea, dog bite, roofing, demolition, wine, chocolate, chili and BBQ, dancing, laughing, crying, two weddings and a funeral, my one true pants have been my rod and my comforter (wait, that sounds familiar).

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