I GOTTA TELL YA THIS! IT'S A BEAUT!

Do you remember the article I wrote about "Why men wear pants?"  You don't?  That's really too bad because it was so existentially true.  It was a deeply philosophical review of the fundamerntal differences that exist between men and women, Ladies and gentlemen, females and males, girls and boys, aunts and uncles, gran'pas and gran'mas, nieces and nephews and whatever other differences that you can think of in English or in any other language that might come to mind.  You can read about this scientific study if you click here.
Now, tonight I had a great experience that I have to expose to you because it is sooo, grrreat!  It is the story of an answer that came to me at a time when I really though I had found the answer.  Read on...

It happened in one of America's five ***** eateries.  You guessed it, Mc'D's place.  I'm standing there waiting for my number to be called.  Four females walk in.  Two of them are very evidently sisters.  Adults.  I mean, VERY evidently.  One of them has a female child of about 12 or 13 years of age while the other has a child in the 2 to 3 year range.  Since the temperature in our ovenly Southern California city is just above freezing, [Honest, it's only 65F for crying out loud], they are all wearing protective clothing.  The three larger ones are sporting flannel, floppy hoodies of the navy blue persuasion and the "baby" is in her puffy, kapok filled jacket that bulges all over the place.
So, the three socially mature individuals go to the counter in front of the cashier's station while the "baby" explores the terrain.  She finds the ice cubes by the drinks station and starts to pick them and pitch them.  Mother darts away from her position in front of the cashier and captures baby and a couple of ice cubes and saves the day by pointing "baby" in another less precarious direction.  Now, you have to listen carefully to what comes.  As the mother [I presume it is the mother since she saved the day with great aplomb and authority] is on the way to reclaiming her position at the counter, she passes behind the 12 to 13 year old whose flannel hoody is hanging loosely to below her buttocks.  On the way by, supposed mama reaches out and dries her right hand on the tail of the hoody.  I am now beside myself.  I can't believe what I just saw.  My scientific study has been blown to smithereens before my very eyes.
Oops, I quickly regain my composure.  I go from monumental disappointment to profound humor.  My theory is still intact.  She didn't wipe her hands on her pants [she was wearing pants]; she didn't wipe them on the front of her shirt; she wiped them on someone else's clothes!  Yahoooo!  So that's why we wear clothes...so that everyone has a place to wipe their hands.  Why did I never think of that?  Why did it have to be a fastidious [no doubt] woman to show it to me?  That's why I had to run to my work station as fast as I could to enlighten the world about the truth.  We all wear clothes so that everyone, at all times, will have a place to wipe their hands.  I, after a long and happy life can now die in peace.  I have answered the one question that has tweeked me all my life.
I have one follow-up question to ask:  Do you think that I will get house arrest if the bishop finds out?

WHY I WEAR PANTS -- Warning: Children must be accompanied by a parent to read this.

IS HE WEARING TROUSERS?

You have to be intrigued by the question.  I don't know about you but it is one that I have long asked myself.  No kidding.  Even from childhood.  All I knew was that I hated shorts and knickers.  I raised all sorts of dust about having to wear knickers to school. I wanted long pants, period.  So, I got some.  Somewhere in third or fourth grade, I think. I was so happy!  But after a while, it got old and then I would wonder why anyone would have to wear clothes at all. Well, I was told that it is in the bible.  We wear clothes because like Adam and Eve we are ashamed to be naked after she ate the apple.   You know what?  I bought that.  for a while.  Not because I was sure that I would be brazen without clothes, but because there were other questions that came up just about every week or so.  For instance, what would the people in New Hampshire do in the Winter without clothes?  I also had some basic hygiene questions, like, why should I wipe my hands on my sleeves, when my pants were much closer.  It's daylight clear to me,  sleeves are for wiping your mouth, your eyes, your nose and stuff like that.  So pants have to be for wiping your hands.  This is especially true when you are sitting down.  In fact the cool part about it is that when you're at table, you can slip your hands down between your thighs an wipe them in places that are not going to get much attention anyway.  Right?  The convenience of doing it at table is that you always have a chance of getting away with it. You just know that I'm right.
Which brings me to the question of whether or not women should wear trousers.  Absolutely not!   Think about it.  Women have absolutely no need for pants.  They abhor wiping their hands on clothes.  You know that.  Aren't they the ones who always remember to take napkins at the fast food outlet.  You guys know it because the women in your life were always shouting at you to "stop that!"  You women know that because you're always disgusted when you see a guy sneak his hands down to his pants to wipe the fingers that held his crispy fried chicken, or his potato chips or sugary pastry .  Shheeeesshh, ladies, what's your problem?  Pants don't ever get dirty anyway.  Getting dirty is for shirts, hankies, ties, sweaters, socks and underwear, but pants?  Of course not.  So, ladies, get back to dresses and skirts and make more wiping material available to the men of the world.  


You know what?  The other day a friend told me that she loves "365 Thoughts..." because it is so smooth and so scholarly.  No kidding, she said that.  Now, you don't think that I'm going to let her get away with that, do you?  She's the reason why I had to place the warning at the top.  She has three boys.  Four, including Hubby.  Not that Hubby would ever wipe his hands on his pants.  Not him.  Except when he's alone in his truck and he forgot his paper towels at home.  After this she's going to force me to buy him "truckware" paper towels.  Sorry, Ed.
To satisfy my dear friend, the truck driver's Voice from the Kitchen, tomorrow I will be more intellectually rewarding.  Really.  I want her to forget I said all these silly things.