It has become painfully clear to me that the evil spector of prejudice is still alive and well in our society. That is, at least when it comes to clothing. Let's face it, anyone who tells you that all types of apparel were created equal is not speaking from the heart. Deep down, we all know that these days the shirt is King. It seems that somehow the shirt has come to symbolize all that is right and good with the world. For example, when someone is thoughtful and looks out for his fellow man we say "he would give you the shirt off his back". Did you ever stop to wonder why you never heard anyone say "he would give you the pants off his ass"? Oh no, apparently pants giving is reserved only for the wicked ones. But why?
Lord knows, on those handful of occasions in my youth when I ventured off to school having forgotten to put on any clothes, you can be sure the first thing I was trying to find was a pair of pants. But that was a long time ago, before the shirt came to prominence. Now, if you look at the youngsters on the street, you will see that waste lines are dropping at an alarming rate. It is obvious that pants are on the decline. Pretty soon I imagine they will probably be phased out all together.
Sure, you have the occasional exception. The elderly gentleman who tries to fight the tide of change by raising his waste line ever higher, as if to turn back the clock. Sometimes it makes me sad to see these old timers, their pants approaching their armpits, yearning for the old days when a nice pair of slacks was something to be proud of. My how times have changed.
But I didn't come here today in an effort to save the pants or criticize the shirt. I understand that it's survival of the fittest out there in the cruel realm of men's wear. Clothing types come and go in a natural progression over time. I would be foolish to try to change things, however, having said this, I would still like to put in a few good words for the socks.
Don't get me wrong, socks are in no danger of extinction. Mankind has been trying unsuccessfully to eliminate the need for them since the beginning of time. First, there were sandles and later came the abomination we call flip flops. Both were poor substitutes. I won't even waste time spelling out the many shortcomings of the flip flop and as for the other, well nobody ever really accomplished anything significant in a pair of sandles. There was Jesus of course, but I assure you that that was an aberration. Unlike the rest of us, I think he simply transcended footwear entirely. I hate to have to admit it, but he probably would have done just as well in a goofy pair of those damn flip flops.
The point is this. There simply is no substitute for socks. They work hard day in and day out to provide us with comfort and support. They do it all in relative obscurity, concealed by the shoe, seeking neither fame nor glory. They are truly the unsung heroes. So why is it that we treat them so poorly? Why do we take them off after their valuable job is done and toss them in some dirty clothes bin without so much as a simple thank you? I think the answer is fear. A fear that the truth may be revealed. The fact is, without them we would be nothing more than a society of poor wretches with sore and blistered feet. This is a reality most of us don't want to face.
So we act like we are in complete control, coldly sending them to that hell that is known as the clothes hamper. Once there, a sock is in grave danger. Usually separated from his partner amidst the masses of dirty clothes, he becomes vulnerable. Inevitably, after the laundry is done, there will be those unlucky few without matches. Their buddies simply didn't make it through the horrors of the spin cycle. And what do we do with the lone survivors? Usually they are either tossed in the trash or banished to a pile of undesirables never to be worn again.
We think nothing of going out and buying new socks to replace the beaten and tattered veterans. In fact, I think we prefer dealing with new socks. They are green and have not yet proven themselves. They pose no great threat to our egos unlike their battle tested brethren. But I think the time has come for us to put our egos aside and begin to give those veteran socks the credit they so richly deserve.
That is why I have begun to wear my dirty socks on my shoulders at the end of the day. I look at it like this. Without them I might not have made it through the day and for that they deserve to be honored. Therefore, I parade them around on my shoulders like the conquering heroes that they are. This may sound unorthodox but is it really? I've watched many a championship sporting event and countless times I've seen the star player hoisted up onto the shoulders of his teammates and carried off the field. Now I may have missed it, but I can honestly say I don't ever remember seeing the star of a big game being stuffed into a dirty clothes bin and carted off to the Laundromat after the final whistle.
So I treat every day in my life as if it was a big game and my socks are my go to guys. In fact, after a hard day of walking around I often conduct what I call "the post game press conference". I set my socks up at these little podiums that I meticulously constructed out of balsa wood with tiny fake microphones and everything. The only thing is, the socks never really have much to say. I guess like so many other great champions, they just like to let their performance do the talking.
