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I’m unemployed, and I’m not wearing any pants

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
I don’t want to alarm you, reader, but I haven’t worn pants in three days. No pants. I don’t need them. I’m unemployed, and since the modern equivalent of searching for a job only requires ten minutes each morning on Craigslist, I really don’t see a need to add pants to the equation. Unless someone’s coming over or my balls are cold, putting on pants is just one more daily chore.

Every morning I wake up, eat peanut butter toast, watch four hours of sassy Judge Joe Brown, and then play video games and drink coffee until the overstimulation causes me to pass out. The next morning I start over again. I just don’t see where I can fit pants into that schedule. Pants would slow me down.

I dare anyone to show me one point in my day where I need to equip pants. Judge Joe Brown can’t see me through the TV set. Neither can Judge Judy, Judge Hatchett, Judge Karen, Judge Alex, Judge Maria Lopez, the lady from Cristina’s Court, the judge from People’s Court, the judge from Divorce Court, the judge from Jury Duty, or Judge Jeanine Pirro. The only judge who will ever see me is God himself, and unless he’s got a well-paying job to offer me, he needs to stop being a peeping tom and mind his own damn business. For once.

I love not wearing pants. In fact, I may never wear pants again. In the 1980s, business casual shifted from suits without ties to collared shirts with jeans. Twenty years later, why not progress to collared shirts without jeans? As long as my boxer shorts have a button to keep my wiener from falling out, I don’t see the problem.

Sure, boxers don’t offer the advanced boner hiding qualities that jeans provide, but it’s not like that happens very often at work. I’m not a miscreant. If I do get a boner, it’s always for a legitimate reason. Any woman who’s offended by it probably caused it in the first place. You don’t like it? Then bend with your knees to pick up those papers you dropped on the floor, lady.

Some people may be worried about setting a precedent. They think if boxers are allowed at work, it will snowball into worse and worse standards until we’re all naked. That’s simply not true. Guys are different from girls. We understand that while ladies find showing more skin to be helpful, guys with tighter or shorter clothing will only scare women away. I am not a sexy man, and this is not a sexy proposal. I just want to be comfortable in the workplace.

There’s no guarantee that every man will follow this rule, but if nothing else, this new dress policy will allow you to weed out the weirdos. The guy who abuses the no pants policy by wearing a thong was probably just going to sexually assault a fellow employee in the future anyway, so it’s better that you found and removed him before he could do damage.

Pantslessness is like a window to the soul. Show me a man without pants, and I’ll show you a man with nothing to hide.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a fan of seeing other dudes in their underwear. If I had my way, I’d be the only man allowed to not wear pants. But that’s not how a proper society works, and I feel strongly enough about the anti-pants movement to take the bad with the good.

Women can also join in this movement if they’d like. Pantslessness is all-inclusive. Even if you’re mind-numbingly unattractive, or elderly to the point where your lack of pants would cause others to projectile vomit their lunch into another area code, feel free to join the movement. I’m not going to stop you. Mind you, this trend wasn’t created with women in mind, as skirts already offer a cool breeze that relaxes the anima, but a Pants Crusade knows no boundaries.

Granted, if this revolution catches on, I’ll never travel within 100 miles of my parents’ house again, for fear that I’ll see my father wearing tighty whiteys while cleaning out the gutters. I’ll pretty much steer clear of every relative in my family, and avoid taking part in or receiving any family Christmas photos. There are no screams loud enough to accurately portray my fear of seeing my uncles lined up in a row wearing Christmas sweaters and whatever “lucky underwear” they’ve refused to wash since 1993.

Now that I think of it, perhaps this no pants idea is a bit ahead of its time. Perhaps it would be better to implement it after everyone I’m related to is dead. The secret of not wearing pants can remain safe in my own household until the distant future, when plastic surgery and cosmetic stem cell manipulation is more commonplace.

Hell, the almost mandatory dental trend of children wearing braces has dramatically changed how pretty people are today. In another 30 years, who’s to say we all won’t look good without pants? See you then, America. See you then without your pants.


 2 Responses to “I’m unemployed, and I’m not wearing any pants”

  1. 8berse6 says:

    This will only work when all fat people die, and unfortunately that won’t be happening any time soon since Americans keep getting fatter. We now have more obese people than fat people in America, and I don’t want to see them without their moo-moos.

  2. Dennis says:

    As your editor, I’m pleased you used the word “miscreant.” I like it when we can make people scramble over to dictionary.com.

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