Going Against the Stream

The longer you live, the more you realize that life is not a straight line.  It’s more of a downward circular spiral where time seems to go faster and faster until you disappear down a dark hole leading somewhere you don’t want to think about.  Yes Josephine Wise-guy, like a toilet.  Or you could think of it like a the movie “Groundhog’s Day,” except you still get to age, people remember what you did the last time, and chances are you don’t end up with Andie MacDowell.

Key question:  would you really want to end up with her?  I mean, she’s nice and all but seems like she’d be the kind of woman who would only have sex because it was expected of her.  Like, she wouldn’t scream or moan but just do cliched sound effects like, “Oh baby.”

About this time last year, the howling monkeys of the Internet began whooping it up about Girl Scout cookies being responsible for every abortion ever performed by a Planned Parenthood clinic.  I even had to post about it because of my fascination with Girl Scouts and their cookies… wow, that really sounds creepy when you read it aloud.  Surprise, surprise!  The monkeys are back on the same argument this time around.

Am I going to again blog about the absurdity of boycotting Girl Scout cookies because a portion of the money goes to Planned Parenthood?  Nope.  You can just re-read my blog I’m About 49% on Your Side.  I won’t be dragged down that toilet drain again.

About four years ago at this time, the festering boil that is America’s presidential election process erupted.  Shockingly, here we go again.  New cast of wannabes, same shtick and bull that the population is fed every year.  “Every vote counts!”  No it doesn’t, idiots.  It’s called an Electoral College which means every Democrat in Texas can kiss their relevance good-bye and so can every Republican in Maine.  “This candidate will change things for the better, or back to the way things were, or will shoot fart guns into space to defeat the Moon-People of Triton!”  Yea, good luck with that.  Pretty sure anything positive that happens in our society will not be the result of the President or Congress doing some thing important.  And even if they did… half the country would hate them for it.

Am I going to devote a blog to this circus of monkeys that I’m required by law to accept as mine?   Hell no!  In November I’ll just vote Libertarian again (as that party is most akin to my personal thoughts on governing), watch my vote not matter (again), and move on with my life.

What I’ve decided to blog about today is underwear.  There are so many choices, for both men and women, in the underwear department.  Yet I haven’t been able to find a website or resource which discusses what style of underwear goes with certain social events.  You can find many opinions on what outer clothes you should wear to a job interview, or the appropriate attire for a first date, but no one has discussed the choice of underwear.

Guys – You want to wear briefs to anything formal.  Job interviews, funerals, meetings with your child’s teacher are all occasions where your junk needs to be mother-fuckin’ tucked and not sliding around.  Ever had to adjust yourself while being a pallbearer?  Trust me, you don’t want to.  Now some say the boxer-brief hybrid is acceptable in those situations, but it really depends on whether the edges can be seen under the slacks.  You know how guys will chuckle about a lady when we can see her panty line in some slacks?  Same thing – you look stupid.

Boxers should be reserved for relaxation time around friends and family.  You want to be comfortable, and no one is going to point out that you had to shift Mr. Willy back into place when he slides down a leg.  Casual work day is also an acceptable time for a pair of boxers, but it’s never okay to adjust in the workplace around a female co-worker.  Go to the bathroom and get the sausage back in its casing.

Going commando is only acceptable when you are alone.  Not even your wife or significant other wants to think about your sweaty meatballs bouncing against that pair of Levi’s jeans.  But the freedom of being in a pair of baggy sweats sans underwear, just letting Captain Tubing flop everywhere he wants while you type up a blog, cannot be beat.

Ladies – Go commando.  Unless you happen to be menstruating.  Then wear the biggest pair of Granny panties you can find.  But commando any other time.  Really.  Guys won’t mind.  And if all the other ladies are going commando too, they won’t mind.  It’s a win/win situation.  And no, men don’t think those cute pink silk ones with the little hearts on them are sexier than being commando.  But don’t just do it for the sexiness.  Think of all the seconds you’ll save from not having to pull down and pull back up underwear when using the bathroom.  So not only is it attractive, it’s also functional.  Obviously, it’s the most logical choice.  So go commando!

Hang on… I’m now at the part of the drain where feminists get all indignant about that last paragraph.  Guess no matter what topic you cover, life just keeps swirling the same shit around the bowl.


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