Sick of talking about pants yet? TOO BAD! I want to talk about pants! Some more!
Actually, I want to talk about creeps. Because that’s what this is about: it’s about creeps forgetting to hide how creepy they are. So many people said so many smart things yesterday — but the best comments were the ones which rooted out the worst part of the original pantsalog. The worst part was this:
[Wear skirts] for us, the minority of chaste men who merit the gift of enjoying your beauty in such a way as to be grateful to your creator without temptation. Make it so it is good for men to look upon you, rather than requiring us to look away (which is a tragedy).
“Merit?” “Make it so it is good?” I’ll translate this for you:
I don’t cheat on my wife, and that’s really hard, so I’m entitled to some compensation. So line up, girls, and show me something special. Neutrally modest isn’t good enough — I deserve something niiiiiiiice.
Oh, you sound just like Padre Pio; really you do!
Several other men in various comboxes expressed a similar idea of their right, as a virtuous man, to enjoy all women in a virtuous way. They’re not satisfied with cracking down on their own wives — they feel that they’ve won the privilege of savoring and setting the standards for everyone else’s wife, too.
A few guys said that they could tell by the way I talk that I’m a disobedient wife. How can they tell? Because their wives wear skirts. I usually don’t. Therefore I must be disobeying my husband.Never mind that my husband likes me in pants. Which I mentioned. So I guess they’re saying . . . that I should be obeying them?
Luckily for me, I have a husband who is just dying for someone to say something like that, so he can punch their lights out. He recently quit smoking, and is looking for someone to punch.
But, ladies, what if your husband likes you in pants, but you happen to leave the house without him? What if you’re doing some errands, you’re wearing pants, and some pigeon-toed guy with a scaly neck sidles up and confronts you for revealing the fact that you have legs — two of ’em?
He scowls through his horrible beard and, once he gains control of the self-righteous quivering that shakes him from head to toe, he speaks: “WHERE IS THY SKIRT, WOMAN? WHY HAST THOU APPEARED AT WALMART IN THESE DETESTABLE PANTALOONS? DOST THOU NOT RESPECT THY HUSBAND’S WISHES?”
Here’s what you do: print out the following card, laminate it, and show it to the guy.
While he’s mentally translating it into Latin so it makes sense to him, you will be able to make a speedy getaway. And since you’re wearing dem pants, you’ll do it without showing any skin! Run, ladies, run!
(Pants Pass designed by my beautiful and talented sister-in-law, Rose Nigel)