the Great Midwest
January 12, 2005
Good evening ladies and gentlemen…My name is JRM and it is a most prestigious honor to address all of you fine citizens this evening. As is likely the case for many of you, my chosen profession dictates that I be politically knowledgeable and active on several levels. Like many of you, I intend to tune in to President Bush’s address concerning the state of this union that is the United States of America. Also, as I live near a state line, I will be forced to endure state of the state addresses from two different governors. At this point, I begin to have less in common with most of you fine folk.
Last month, I sat through an address filled to the brim with up-to-date information regarding the state of a particular city. I have also been invited to attend an address given by an Assistant Chancellor on the state of the university of which I am loosely affiliated.
Finally, I am scheduled later this month to attend a dinner at which myself and others in attendance will learn from the Association President the state of our homeowner’s association…
Ladies and gentlemen, I firmly believe in being both thorough and candid at every possible opportunity. It is this philosophy that has made me who I am today. And it is in the spirit of this proven philosophy that I present to you this evening:
The State of My Pants.
First and foremost, please do not attempt to manipulate me so that I might negotiate with myself in public on the subject of the contents of my pants. Any manipulation on that subject will be done in private and I will negotiate said contents at the appropriate time and place and in the appropriate company. Beyond this, there are many things to say about the state of these fine pants.
As far as I can tell, they were manufactured several years ago in Kusadasi, Turkey by a small woman or perhaps a pre-adolescent girl. I had originally hoped that they were assembled by real American cowboys - because no matter how many times I saw John Wayne swagger into a saloon, he was never a small Turkish woman. Alas, these are pants of the real world; and in the real world, cowboys who aren’t named Levi Strauss are not, as a rule, especially good seamstresses. As an as aside, does anyone know what a 19th century male seamstress would be called?
Some would say that these pants, raised from meager Turkish beginnings, have seen better days – that the small hole caused by the cruelty and tyranny of a 3-year-old boy armed with a pair of absconded scissors has served as a catalyst toward their inevitable decline and ruin. Some say that this hole is growing. Some say that several years of near constant flatulence has created a stench impervious to our strongest weapon, All-Temperature Cheer…They say the stench is here to stay. Some have even said that these pants will divide violently in the battle between east and west over the issue of picking up the cheese doodle that has fallen to the ground. They say that these pants are going to hell in a handbasket.
I say to these individuals…People like you have been uttering these phrases ever since we figured out how to get into our pants by putting them on one leg at a time. There is no place for pants naysayers like you. Become part of the pants solution and stop being part of the pants problem!!!
These pants are great from the single
stitched pockets to the double stitched cuffs. Their metal button and
I am willing to do whatever it takes…I will wash these pants less. I will half-assedly attempt to sew these pants back together. If it comes to it…I am fully prepared…as leader of these pants…to sew the logo of one of my favorite bands on in an effort to cover the hole. I will not give up these good pants!!!
These are strong pants built on the principals of hard work and denim. The current state and immediate future of these pants will secure their place in history among the five or six greatest pairs of pants I’ve ever worn!!
Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President: May someone less powerful than God, but more powerful than yourselves bless these pants!!!
Thank you and good evening.
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