Someone once told me that these punks that wander around with their pants around their hips and not up on their waist are ignorant of what that really means. I have no idea if it is true or not, but the reason for having your pants drooping around your hips is because you’re asking your prison cell mate to drive his one-eyed monster up your Hershey Highway. The point being that it is used by prisoners as a means of saying, “Please don’t kill me, I’ll be your bee-yotch if you’ll let me live!”
Regardless of whether that’s what it really means, I like to look at stupid punks and think that it does mean that and that they are so stupid they don’t know that’s what it means – so I get a chuckle out of it. I have to. I used to be disgusted that these stupid little boys think the rest of the world wants to see their underwear. Hey, I don’t like it when the plumber comes over and shows off his hairy derriere, so who died and left you fools to think I’m interested in your Fruit of the Looms?
One of the stupidest applications of the “Leavenworth Proposition” I’ve seen to date happened to be in the latest issue of one of my wife’s Hollywood gossip rags. The magazine did a story on the Country Music Awards and I couldn’t believe it when I saw Snoopy-Doggie-Woodstock-Charlie-Brown-whatever-the-hell-his-name-is dressed in a cowboy hat vest and black jeans. Then after I looked at the photograph closer, I noticed that his belt buckle was positioned way too far down. I knew immediately that doofus was going for the “gangsta cowboy” look. No decent cowboy in his right mind would be caught dead with his pants halfway down his butt.
Then today, as my daughter and I were walking around a local fair and festival, I saw something that made me do a double-take and I still couldn’t believe what I saw. This idiot not only had his pants riding on his hips, but he had his hands shoved down the front of them as if he were trying to hide something! It was almost impossible not to look at him and say, “Your hands must be cold because there ain’t any other reason for you to have your hands in your pants coverin’ up what ain’t there.”
This whole idea of wearing your pants down on your hips is quite literally the stupidest thing to come down the pike. At least in the 80s we kept our clothes on in public – even though a lot of the clothes looked like they were about to fall off anyway. But underwear was still something that only saw the light of day outside your house in the gym locker room. Well, okay so there were some occasions where we got to see bras peeking over the tops of dresses and shirts, but the truly privates were kept under cover.
I know that as each generation comes by, they have to come up with something that is stupider than the previous generation. I know that my mother hated me listening to a song by comedian Kip Adotta called “Wet Dream” – a pun-laden bit of undersea humor that told a story of a guy driving in downtown Atlantis in a rented Stingray because his Barracuda was in the shop. The hero stops off in a local dive for a drink, yells, “HI GILL!” to the bartender because he’s hard of herring. He tries to pick up a yellow tail when a real cod steps in and warns him not to come trolling around here. The hero decks the cod, tells gill to call a sturgeon and takes the yellow tail back to his apartment for a piece of Pisces. For his trouble, he ends up with a case of the clams...
Needless to say, my mother was absolutely horrified that I was listening to that song. So I know that as generations come along, they try to do everything they can to rattle their parents. Problem is most of these punks walking around with their pants drooping down don’t even know who their parents are. The only “family” they’ve ever known are the street gangs with which they hang and then the next stop is prison where they become Rocko’s bee-yotch or worse, the cemetery – at which time, then someone claiming to be their mother comes crawling out from under her heroin-induced stupor claiming that the kid in the casket is her son and that she wants justice when all the while she’s buying her 8-balls from the screwed up punk that put her son in that casket in the first place.
It is said that the United States is one of the most prudish nations in the world. That in Great Britain, television exposes all parts of the human anatomy with impunity. That may very well be, but frankly, I’m glad that some level of decency exists in America. I’m not interested in looking at someone else’s underwear. If you have to know, I wear white briefs, okay? I’m not going to go around showing them off. As for that guy who was walking in front of me at the mall the other day with the skidmarks , I’ll thank you next time to finish your paperwork before you come out of the john.
If some level of decency can keep punks from showing off their BVDs then so be it.