Oh Lord. I really hate to do this, but I don't think I can stop myself. I fully realize that this rant is going to make me sound like a repetitive harpie-esque fogey-ish person, but I just saw this gaggle of young punks walk past my window and I feel...it...coming...
PULL UP YOUR DAMN BRITCHES! JUST DO IT! EVEN NIKE SAYS SO!!!
I know that there is absolutely zero point in wondering what in the world the parents of these children are thinking. I know for a fact that I don't have the stomach to look into those mostly empty heads for the few dim sparks of thought that flit around here and there. I should probably just be satisfied with the fact that the children at least have clothes...ill fitting and inappropriate as they may be.
The girls wear as little as humanly possible to cover themselves and the boys wear so much that they look like they were full grown men suddenly shrunk by a genie or a laser beam or something. The jeans I see these days are so low that there isn't even a point to wearing them. One of the members of the perky little team that just went down the sidewalk had on jeans with the waist around his knees. He was walking like a penguin. If you're that proud of your underwear, just wear them on top of your jeans.
Okay, we all know that I am a criminal defense attorney and the first thing that pops into my head is more than likely is not the first thing a normal person thinks about, but how in the hell do you expect to run from the police? Even the most out of shape police officer could finish his sandwich and still catch you before you even made it a whole block. Even if you still managed to elude him for more than a block, there's more than enough fabric flapping off of you for him to grab...it would be like a game of toddler flag football or chasing Princess Diana in her 25 foot wedding train.
Another thing that blows what is left of my mind is the number of children well under the age of consent sporting tattoos. In the "weird lawyer thinking" category, why do you want to put something permanently on your person that makes you so identifiable? "Yes officer, it was the young man with the pot leaf beauty mark on his cheek." Also--fair warning--when I am sitting in a nursing home and gumming my day's ration of tapioca pudding and a nurse wheels in your 85 year-old ass sporting a "Ladies Playa Club" tattoo on your forearm, I will laugh hard enough to snort pudding on your person.
Ya'll have to trust me when I tell you that these ensembles don't work for you. Like every good lawyer, I have case law to back me up: There once was a young man who thought it was super cool to prance around wearing his jeans with the waist at about mid-thigh level. He also thought it was very edgy to give a nod to the Run DMC years and wear his ginormous white sneakers without laces.
Our fair lad was walking to school one day in his literal big boy clothes and, like every other day, he passed the yard that held Sprite the German Shepherd. Sprite was very protective over his territory, but it wasn't usually too big of a problem in that Sprite was contained by an invisible fence. Unbeknownst to our hapless hero, the electric fence that protected him from Sprite wasn't working right that minute as the result of a power outage. Accordingly, when Sir Baggy Pants walked in front of Sprite's yard...oh, it was Christmas come early!
Once our victim realized the true extent of his danger, he immediately pivoted on his foot to run the other way, but--seeing as his shoes weren't laced and thus purely for ornament--they came off. It was all downhill from there. He might could have made it if he only lost his shoes, but the second he tried to take an appreciable step to start running, his thigh wasted pants took him right down to the ground. It was the easiest dog attack you ever saw. As discussed hereinabove, the piles of cloth on his person made it quite easy for Sprite to grab anywhere he wanted to, but the dog was a traditionalist, so he chose to take a good hold in the seat of the pants.
Well, our young man tried to hang in there, but Sprite was deeply invested in thrashing his prey around, so the boy felt that he had no other alternative but to come out of the pants and hit the road. Fortunately, Sprite was content to stick with snacking on the pants, so The Streak was able to go and get assistance--albeit in his Underoos.
Unfortunately for our hapless victim, the police officer who arrived at the scene was a bit of a traditionalist as well. The officer took one look at the dog, one look at the boy's clothes and cited the boy for indecent exposure while Sprite was free to go merrily about his day.
Yep, there's more to dressing well to look better. It might just save your buns.