Every once in awhile, though, I feel like we need to diverge from the writing world and focus on bigger issues.
For nearly 7 years, the United States of America has been governed by an admistration rife with ineptitude, croneyism, mismanagement, and secrecy. We've been led into a poorly planned and executed war, justified by mistruths and misrepresentations. With elections just over a year away, I think its critical that I turn my attention from the frivolity of entertainment and focus, with you indulgence, on a subject matter that really means something to the future. OUR future. I refer, of course, to Crocs.
Yes. Crocs.
Those craptacularly ugly plastic clogs that look like something my cat would poop out if he accidentally ate an industrial sized vat of neon orange rubber cement.
When did these things become so ubiquitous? I was out this weekend, and I swear, everywhere I turned people were wearing this unholy footwear. Men. Women. Children. Babies. Everyone was wearing them. How did we become a nation of Croc-wearers?
I mean, first off, they don't really look good on ANYONE. Men just look effeminate in them, mincing around in their naff frog-green rubber shoes. Women look manly in them, as they're big and clunky and look like something a burly Dutch beer-frau would wear while serving drinks in a crowded tent. Little boys look... well... not very BOY-like in them. That leaves little girls. The only acceptable market for Crocs, in my book, is little girls.
But you're all wearing them. And with socks, no less! What's that about? Looking like German tourists, lumbering around with black calf-high socks and a pair of pink rubber shoes underneath?
I'm told they're very popular with people in certain professions, because of their comfort. Nurses and doctors apparently love them. Sure... I can see that. Let's wear a shoe that's full of holes and open in the back as we walk around a germ-infested hospital, working with body fluids and blood and sharp instruments like scalpels and syringes and stuff. Stellar idea, Croc-wearing medical professionals.
Cooks, I'm told, also love them, thanks to that a-hole Mario Battali. Again, I can't begin to express how excited I am to know that the person preparing my $50 filet is clomping around my food all-but-barefoot, sweating away under a pair of PVC pumps. God forbid you drop a knife, because it'll GO RIGHT THROUGH THE HOLES into your sweaty foot.
And while I'm at it, what's the deal with Mario Battali? When did a 300 pound, red-headed, pasty-faced guy become Italian? I don't give a crap what his name is, that guy's as Irish as they come.
Where was I?? Oh yeah. America - can we please get past this fad and go back to wearing normal shoes? If I have to spend one more weekend looking at you in your horrid powder-blue galvanized Crocs, looking like a demented cross between the Little Dutch Boy and Corky from "Life Goes On," I may saw off my feet in protest.
Oh yeah... and vote Obama.
- Charlie
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