Green Eggs and Pants

It is quite sad that I could go on and on about something as simple as...pants. But I can. Because I don't like pants. The word pants in general irks me. I do, however, understand that this commonly worn article of clothing can come in handy. You could wear them here or there. You could wear them anywhere. You could wear them in a house. You could wear them with a mouse. But I do not wear them in a house. I do not wear them with a mouse. I do not like them here or there. I do not like them anywhere. Because they're pants.

The sad thing is no one seems to catch my drift here. (I'm sure no one catches any sort of drift since they're in those pants of theirs. Breezes are underrated.) Not even Right Said Fred, who were too sexy for their hat, too sexy for their car, too sexy for Milan, and of course, too sexy for their shirt; but pants? Were they too sexy for their pants? No. They don't mention being too sexy for their pants ONCE in that song and what I want to know is WELL WHY THE HELL NOT. What is so damn great about pants?

I believe that if pants had never existed, a lot of horrible things could have been prevented. Like World War I, for instance. (Honestly I don't know enough about World War I to argue my case here; that was merely the "door in the face" technique that I've been waiting to try. But honestly, who the hell does know anything about WWI? I think we all know the only world war anyone gives a shit about is the second one, but let's get back to the horrible occurrences that would have never occurred if it were not for those blasted pants.)

If pants never existed...I would never have been emotionally scarred by the visual image of Ben Stiller zipping his dick up at the age of 7.

If pants never existed...I would never have been mistaken for a boy while I was in line at the ski lift. (And YES, that was because of the pants and the pants only. There were no other features about me that were boy-like except for those fucking pants. And the fact that my hair was up in my beanie. But mainly it was the pants.)

If pants never existed...I would have won that race in 4th grade. I could've beat that William kid and I know it. I could've left him eating my dust, crying to his mommy, ego deflated! Confidence evaporated! Girlfriendless forever! But NO. I had to trip over those damn pants and fall flat on my face right before the finish line. GOD DAMN YOU, GAP KIDS.

If pants never existed...I would have never had to hear my crush at the time talk about how good Allison Murphy's ASS looked in her fucking GAUCHO pants for two months straight.

If pants never existed...I would never have been surrounded by multiple pairs of GAUCHO pants the year someone decided that giant Siamese skirts were the next big thing since parachute pants.

If pants never existed...it would have never taken a year and a half for a friend to finally decide to tell me that my favorite pair of pants were completely see-through.

If pants never existed...many people's underwear choices would have remained anonymous. As well as their buttcracks. As well as whether or not they keep their buttcracks clean.

As you can see, pants have brought no good into this world and should immediately be destroyed. All pairs. All kinds. All sizes. GONE FOREVER. Ladies, stick with the skirts, and fellas, kilts are where it's at. If Fat Bastard can pull it off, so can you. Pants just aren't my bag, baby, and they shouldn't be anybody else's, either, because:

If pants never existed...I wouldn't have thrown out all my pants 4 years ago and deeply regretted it 4 years later.