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Sunday, June 10, 2007

Let He Who Is Without Retarded Footwear Cast the First Stone

Let He Who Is Without Retarded Footwear Cast the First Stone

I have something I need to get off my chest. I have a confession to make. I figure that if I admit to it, things will go easier for me in the long run. I’m willing to take responsibility for my actions but I think that coming clean should serve to cut me a little slack. Here it is: I bought a pair of those retarded sandals that everyone hates. I feel that there are some mitigating circumstances in my case that need to be explained before I am tried, sentenced, and executed by a jury of my ├╝ber-hip peers.

It’s like that scene in The Silence of the Lambs when the chick trapped in the well sees the fingernail stuck in the wall. I don’t want anyone to come upon my retarded sandals by chance and then have them scream bloody murder, “Oh my God, he’s got a pair of those stupid fucking sandals!”

It’s not like I am going to wear then in public. I just got them to wear while I am in my apartment. It is just too dusty to walk around in bare feet no matter how many times I mop the floor. They were also really cheap at the Chinese Wal-Mart, something like 6 €. Anyway, I did it. I went out and bought a pair and now I have to live with the fact that I own a pair of these retarded sandals.

Technically they are clogs which makes them more repugnant and embarrassing to people like me, people who are not hippies, people who are not full-time stoners, people who don’t have more than five cats, people who eat red meat, and people who may recycle and write a check to the Sierra Club once a year but don't go overboard on the whole “save the earth” thing.

For fuck’s sake, give me a break here. It’s not like I’m walking around in public in a thong Speedo like a lot of other folks around here. I would say that these sandals are the tube tops of footwear but I already said that I don’t wear them outside my apartment. I almost wore them to the grocery store across the street from my place one day when I was cooking and discovered that I needed something. I changed footwear because you never know when you may run into someone you know, even when you are thousands of miles from home.

I know that no matter how convincing I make my case, no matter how convenient this footwear may be for use in my apartment I know that I will probably have to endure a beating or two for making this choice in shoes. Lord knows I deserve it.

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