It's Fashion Friday!: Delusions of Youth

Woman, you're 50. Cover your
crotch. No one wants to see it,
especially your teenage daughter.

            It’s almost 9 o’clock and it’s still light outside (yes, I often write my blog posts the night before). Extra light is one of the many blessings of summer …. UNLESS you are in the presence of old women dressed in prostitute worthy clothing. Then many of us find ourselves wishing we were in the Arctic Circle in December. To quote the t shirt of the easily 400 pound woman I saw outside PetSmart today, "It's better in the dark." I don’t know what it is about summer that brings out the worst in age inappropriate dressing. Since the fashion houses are now showing off their fall lines and the thought of even talking about wool sweaters makes me sweat bullets, it seemed like an appropriate time to address this fashion-related disease.

            I call it a disease because I truly believe that age inappropriate dressing stems from a combination of a narcissistic personality disorder and EXTREME state of delusion. It can be visible as early as mid-twenties, but this disease really runs rampant during the forties and upward. An older friend of mine was talking about a dating event she was attending, and we discussed the suggested “cocktail” attire. We jokingly anticipated that many women would be dressed with their saggy cleavage out and their lumps happily hugged by inorganic textiles. We also anticipated that these women would attract the infected males, dressed with half buttoned shirts and flashy necklaces. I’m not sure if the delusion is that saggy boobs and wrinkly cleavage are hot, or if it’s that the offenders don’t believe that their boobs are saggy and wrinkly, despite the fact their skin has more ridges than the San Andreas fault line. Frankly, I don’t care.

            I think if I could invent some sort of cleavage flat iron, I’d be a millionaire. If these women (and men… there are also saggy boobed men showing off their figures… have you seen David Hasselhoff in the Cumberland Farms iced coffee commercial?) were only hurting themselves, this would be a non-issue. They are scarring and blinding millions of people. It’s not just the Chernobyl level toxic cleavage. What’s up with the body-hugging cuts? If you’re past your childbearing years and are carrying a little extra junk in your front trunk, do you really want to wear a t-shirt or other shirt that makes you look pregnant?

            I really want to help the afflicted older people with their wardrobe choices, so I thought the best way would be a question answer quiz. Here we go.

1.     Can you comfortably get a hand in-between your shirt fabric and your skin?

A.     If yes, continue.

B.     If no, it’s too small. Take it off and put it in the Goodwill box.

2.     Does your shirt comfortably make it down past your bellybutton and the top of your pants?

A.     If yes, continue.

B.     If no, what are you, five? It is not acceptable to show your midriff at any age! The only time it’s okay is if you’re a child playing quite actively on a jungle gym or if you are at the beach in a bikini.

3.     It’s okay to show a little cleavage, but not ALL of it. If you are wearing a low cut shirt and you dropped some food out of your mouth, would it actually get lost down under?

A.     If no, good job! You’re probably tastefully covered.

B.     If yes, you’re probably dressed like a porn star. Put on a camisole.

4.     When you put your jeans on, are they shaped like a water tower, cylinder down the legs, wide wide wide bubble at the top?

A.     If no, continue, but you’re not off the hook yet.

B.     If yes, get those things off. Your pants should be the width of the widest part they cover. If you have a fat tire tummy, you should probably be wearing a wide leg.

5.     What color are your pants? Could they match anything in the Skittles rainbow?

A.     If yes, and you are under 40, we are okay.

B.     If yes, and you are over 40, most people are going to think that you’re trying really hard to look cool and be saddened. Think Betsey Johnson. Have you seen her lately?

6.     If you are wearing a skirt, hold your arms straight down. The bottom of your skirt had better be at least as low on your leg as the edge of your fingers.

A.     If it is not, it is too short. No exceptions. Remember, your front is flat (relatively). Your back is not. Short skirts will ride up in the back, especially if they’re not cut well. Guess what happens when you bend over! (This is actually applicable at any age.)

B.     If it is, you’ve hit the minimum. Be careful!

7.     Let’s go back to the pants. When you bend over, do you feel a breeze?

A.     No? Great!

B.     Yes? You’re dressing like your refrigerator repairman. Pretty.

In general, if you are over the age of thirty and don't have serious styling skills, you should not be shopping at Delia’s, Abercrombie & Fitch, American Eagle, Aeropostale, The Disney Store, Arden B, Free People, Urban Outfitters, Wet Seal, Rave, or Forever 21. I hope this helps. Did I leave anything out? If you’re one of the people suffering from age inaproppriate dressing disorder, and you read this, and you think “She’s just jealous! I look hot!” then you are much worse off than I can assist, and you’re really going to need to get professional help. If you're lucky, your loved ones have already contacted What Not To Wear or someone else who will stage an intervention. I’m pretty sure everything here can be applied to men as well. If you think I have missed anything, let’s hear it!

Congressional Cage Fighting: Coming to a Capitol Building Near You

While watching the extremely stressful series of “Celtics vs. Heat June 2012,” I kept seeing advertisements for the boxing match between Congressman Manny Pacquiao and Timothy Bradley. I continuously chuckled at every ad, finding the idea of a boxing government official about as absurd as a vampire slaying Abe Lincoln. And then it hit me – wouldn’t it be amazing if any person could challenge any congressman to a nationally televised boxing match????? Imagine the implications! Screw holding these people responsible for their votes in reelection campaigns. Let’s get down and dirty and threaten to sucker punch them if they make stupid decisions.
             “I, Sarah Botham, challenge YOU, Senator McCain to a fist fight in Lowell – (hopefully with Micky Ward coming to watch or even referee) in regards to your threatening American civil liberties with that 2012 National Defense Authorization Act.” I’m not sure what the winner gets yet. I haven’t really thought it out that thoroughly. I think money would probably be the best prize, since a repeal of a law that affected an entire nation based on the outcome of a fight could probably be refought until every American had at least a black eye and a broken rib. And after all, I think our government representatives for the most part prize money over anything else. We should hit them where it hurts. In the nuts and their bank accounts.

I think next, “Deval Patrick, you idiot governor you, I’m going to give you a black eye for even SUGGESTING that the tax exemption on soda and candy be repealed.” I’m not fat. I’m in great shape. I shouldn’t be punished for wanting to drink Coca Cola and eat peanut M&Ms. That’s an average afternoon snack for me. I could take him! 145 pounds of wiry fury right in the kisser. He’d be down in two punches. Screw you, Massachusetts. Let’s knock it out in the ring. If I win, you can keep your proposed tax and give me the money to pay it!

Now I realize that this is not a revolutionary concept by any means. I see it as the modern day equivalent of jousting and dueling. Instead of fighting over the rights to a woman, we are throwing ourselves into the ring to prove a point. To say, “You know what? You’re supposed to represent me. And, you’re doing a shitty job.” Think of the money people would save on therapists and anger management if they could take it out on their government officials. I imagine we’d all get a lot stronger and leaner as well, boxing is a lot of work.

Potential for violent results really would bring accountability. It would be a bit like a mob rule. I’ve been fascinated with the mob for as long as I can remember. I think it comes from growing up in Massachusetts, where “Where’s Whitey?” was more popular than “Where’s Waldo?” On several occasions I have suggested to people, that we would be better served by a government run by organized crime. See the amazing thing about organized crime is that it’s “ORGANIZED.” If you’re not doing things you shouldn’t be doing, the mob is not going to come after you. And how is giving your local mob faction a cut of your profits any different than paying taxes? At least with the mob you know what you’re getting. They make no pretense about operating in a peaceful, truthful manner. It’s the complete opposite of today’s government - a collection of assholes who want you to believe that they have your interests at heart, while remaining pacifists, and always telling the truth. HA! Right. We all know better. At least, I hope you know better.

In reality, I lean closer and closer to becoming an anarchist every day. I am frightened by what is going on in the world, afar and at home. In general I would say that violence is never an appropriate answer, but you have to admit, watching your 85 year old next door neighbor Doris beat the shit out of Nancy Pelosi would be quite entertaining.

It's Fashion Friday!: How to Dress Like Your Laptop (Or Not)

Because snorkeling is so much
easier when you're wearing stilettos.

            I came across these shoes in my web surfing the other evening and was so moved by them that I was inspired to write a blog about neoprene. It seems that neoprene textiles are a bit of a “thing” for this spring summer season so I thought I could help you interpret this trend in your own styling. It’s really QUITE simple. The key to styling neoprene is to not wear it. Neoprene is for surfers and laptops. If you’re not a Macbook and don’t have a surfboard, you shouldn’t be wrapping yourself in this material. Those yellow Louboutin “Snorkeling Neoprene Boots” are some of the fugliest shoes I’ve seen in a long time. When I say I was moved I mean straight from the couch to the bathroom to throw up the piece of bread I had just snacked on.

            I recall Nicholas Ghesquière trying this trend out at Balenciaga quite a while ago… and it didn’t really take off. Neoprene has made select appearances on runways since then (2003?). I continue to not understand. The neoprene that is used to make wetsuits is foamed up with Nitrogen gas, making it an excellent insulator. So why is it showing up in spring and summer fashions? I don’t want to be insulated when it’s 90 F. Do you? And my feet certainly don’t need to be covered in it and simultaneously balanced on a pink stiletto (I really just can’t get over that shoe!).

           Shall we play “What the hell were they thinking?” This Lisa Marie Fernandez “maillot” - it’s $390 so it’s much too fancypants to be called a swimsuit (despite the fact that Ms Fernandez is not French). I don’t know about you, but I like my swimsuits with a lot less coverage. How about you? What good is this? You wear it to the beach to work on your farmer’s tan? On her website she even suggests pairing it with skinny jeans. I can’t imagine a more uncomfortable outfit. A body hugging, insulated fabric under your tightest pair of pants. YEAH. There's a reason people don't wear polar fleece underwear in summer (or ever? I hope?). 

            

            Round 2! McQ, you’ve let me down. What is this dress? Yes, it’s neoprene. Fail number one. Colors are fine… bustier top I can get behind and might even consider svelte. Waist down… wait a minute, is she wearing a giant bucket under this dress? Are those arm rests?! Fail two and three. One for each hip.

            Round 3! Michael Kors, I’ve never really liked you and this just affirms my past sentiments. Can you strap a harpoon into that belt so when you swim in this outfit you can spear some lunch? There is nothing appealing about this dress. It’s just ugly. The model has on sunglasses so you won’t recognize her. Am I wrong? Guys? Is this attractive?

            Well I am self appointing myself referee in this boxing match between myself and neoprene. We’ve gone three rounds not including the shoe, and I’m pretty sure I just won. GAME OVER. 

Rude Rage

Don't make me do this to your phone.

            I was sitting in the Starbucks café at Barnes & Noble in Nashua NH Saturday, just minding my own business, doing some work. I have a hard time dealing with rude, self-absorbed people so I generally don’t go out on the weekends. Sometimes, though, you just have to get out of the house. So, I try to be understanding of the fact that not everyone shares my belief that inside voices should be quite a bit softer than outside voices. This particular Saturday crowd included what I understood to be a local board game club. I am not the coolest cucumber ever. Actually, I’m quite a bit of a geeky, dorky, weirdo. But THESE PEOPLE – Oy Marie!!! The Social Incompetence Fairy hit them REALLY hard with her not so magic wand that she pulled out of her Dungeons and Dragons game.

            It was bad enough that they were really loudly playing board games that sounded quite complicated. Everyone in a 30 feet radius could hear the rules to every game they started and when they switched to a new one because someone didn’t like the way the game was going. I got really excited when I heard a latecomer say he brought “Munchkin.” Of course, I immediately thought of both donuts and little people, and I like both. I was quite disappointed when I turned around and discovered it was just another game. All of this nonsense could have been overlooked until one of these Gonzos decided to start singing. At full volume. Multiple verses of a really dull song I assume he made up. Why has it become such a common thing for people to do everything in public places so LOUDLY and INCONSIDERATELY?

            I don’t want to hear about the sadly unexciting dirty things you did with the guy who’s name you can’t quite remember that you, like, met at a bar, and, like, totally could see yourself marrying, even though he, like, said he had a girlfriend, but you’re sure she’s not as pretty as you. And I don’t want to hear about why everyone in your circle is blessed to know you, because you went to a fancy college and can regurgitate all kinds of unoriginal thoughts that you learned in a lecture, as you try to impress your girlfriend’s parents by waxing verbosely about things you clearly know nothing about. I might want to hear about what you ate for lunch, if it was something special. Really though, if I wanted to know any of these things about you, I would add you as a friend on Facebook, because we all know that is what Facebook is for – unedited unsolicited useless information about your peers and people you don’t even know. Most of all, I don’t want to hear ANYTHING you have to say WHILE I AM AT THE GYM.

            I don’t care who you are or how interesting your stories are. If I am hauling ass on the elliptical machine, I am trying to concentrate on making it to my goal time with maximum calorie burning impact. I am quite often trying to burn off, in addition to obscene amounts of ice cream and donuts, the anger and frustration from life that built up since I was last at the gym. And, YOU, shouting at your friend next to you about any of the things I mentioned in the prior paragraph, you are rudely disturbing my workout and getting in the way of my becoming calm. How are you even carrying on a conversation? I have to believe you’re not expending much more energy than you would be while walking to your car. I can barely catch my breath when I’m exercising hard, let alone speak. I can shoot angry  “Are you kidding me?!” glances towards my workout partner while you’re shouting loud enough that I can hear you through my beat heavy workout playlist. That doesn’t take much energy.

            Even more enraging is the cell phone in group-exercise-classes scenario. Everyone forgets to turn his phone off sometimes. It happens in concerts, libraries, meetings, ski slopes (that one surprised me), doctor’s appointments…. Maybe she even left it on purposefully because she can’t spend even five minutes alone with her thoughts. No judgment yet, really! I am an extremely forgiving and understanding individual. You really didn’t just PICK UP that call IN CLASS. Did you? Are you serious? Now I’m angry. Now you’ve not only disturbed my zoned out mush-brained quiet mind with noise that I was going to forgive, but you are forcing me, as if I were a hostage, to listen to your conversation. NO! I protest! I’ve had enough! Is nothing sacred? There are even tables and chairs in the lobby of my gym for meeting and conversing. Go to a damned coffee shop. Go to a bar. Go to the mall. Go ANYWHERE! I don’t care where. Stop ruining my workouts you rude, loud people. I promise it is in both of our best interests and will allow me to be much more understanding when you cut me off on the highway, sing in my café, or sit in the seat where my feet are propped up in an otherwise completely empty movie theatre. Otherwise, you had best hope my friend Elizabeth is there to keep me from kicking you in the head. (True story.)

Today Is For Remembrance

            No one likes to hear that someone they know or care for has passed away. Deaths that are expected are still difficult. Even worse are those that result from senseless accidents. Today marks three years since Air France flight 447 from Rio to Paris disappeared into the Atlantic. 228 people disappeared from our lives. Just like that. Some people lost family. Some of us lost friends.

            It is almost impossible for me to remember my friend Ceren without being overcome with sadness. Sadness that such a beautiful person should die so young. Sadness that I didn’t write to her when I thought about her. Sadness for her family. Sadness for her closer friends. All too many of my friends and colleagues have experienced this kind of loss. Only three years earlier five talented opera singers from Indiana University, colleagues and friends of friends, also died in a plane crash. All of these people have left us with an enormous gift – the memory of our times with them and the memory of their existence.

            I believe the memories we have been left with serve not to remind us of what and whom we have lost, but what we have remaining! We can be sad, of course, and should not forget how lucky we were to have any time at all with these people. What would they say to us now if they could? Live life. Cherish every moment. It seems trite to say such things, but these ideas are so critical to fulfilling our purpose.

            When you care about someone or love them, these sentiments should be shared and celebrated, not kept hidden and run away from. What an amazing feeling it is to care about someone, to know that their presence in the world alone makes your life a better one. To be able to smile just because you know that someone exists is like nothing else. Telling people isn’t enough. We should show them through our actions. And shouldn’t we spread these feelings of understanding and acceptance to the other people around us as well? The complete strangers who we encounter in daily life… People we know and people we don’t know are dying every day. They are dying of cancer and starvation. They’re being massacred for their religious and political beliefs and being killed by suicide bombers for daring to protect those who speak up. They’re having their heads cut off so that some lost kid can join a gang in Mexico or having their face eaten off on the side of a highway by someone with no soul.

            How can we be aware of all of this senseless violence and continue to walk down the street and not acknowledge the people we walk by? Is it not offensive and a dishonor to the memories of those lost? Would it kill us to accept the people around us for who they are, whether or not we know them? Simply acknowledging someone with a smile or a “how are you?” when they walk by could be the difference between that person going to a bar to drink their life away or going home to spend time with their children. And at the end of the day isn’t that what matters?

            It is up to the people we love and the people we don’t know to do what they want with the feelings we share with them. Even though that part is out of our control, at least it allows us to live without regret. When our souls leave this earth, what matters is not how much money we made, what God we worshipped, or what clothes we wore. It is how we treated others and the impact we made in their lives. Not everyone will find a cure for cancer or sacrifice their life to save children in the Sudan, but even the love, smiles, acceptance, and lack of judgment we give to the people around us make a difference. It is our duty to mankind. It is the lesson we MUST learn. Tell your friends that you love them. Smile at strangers. Stop judging people who are different.

In loving memory of Fatma Ceren Necipoğlu – talented harpist and beautiful soul (18 January 1972 - 1 June 2009)

I'll Take "Up My Butt" for $500, Alex!!!

            One of the greatest swindles of the modern day is surely the underwear industry. You get less fabric per penny than you do with any other article of clothing. Why does underwear cost so much? It makes absolutely no sense. By the cost of some underwear, one would think it was self-cleaning, or covered in diamonds, or made of a special fabric that will allow you to levitate at the push of a button. Yet, I have never encountered any of those special features when purchasing undergarments.

These cost $140 at Agent Provocateur.
Why? Anybody? What am I Missing?

            I happen to be in the lucky spot right now where I don’t actually need to buy any new underwear. During my time at university, one of my girlfriends introduced me to one of the best procrastination techniques ever. If you had to do laundry and you either didn’t feel like it, or didn’t have time, the solution was simply to go and buy more underwear. I recall this friend having a giant Tupperware shelving unit FULL of underwear. I carried this technique well past college and into current day. After a fall cleaning spree leading to the discovery of more than 50 pairs of underwear, I have put a temporary moratorium on purchases of this kind. And thank goodness! I can’t afford to buy more!

            I’m sure that if you want Grannie’s drawers you’ll pay a little bit less. I don’t, however. They don’t really work well with any kind of low-rise bottoms. They also would not help me to continue denying my elevation in years on the planet. There’s always the option of shopping the Victoria’s Secret Semi-Annual Sale. Except, not really. When stores have large sales, it is often quite apparent why certain things got lumped into the sale category. VS is no exception. In my experience, the kind of underwear that is offered during this sale is not something you could even wear with clothes on. Bejeweled charms, seams up the ass, oddly placed holes… none of these things really make for comfort. And it is a certain fact that wearing uncomfortable underwear can ruin your entire day.

            I spend an awful lot of time at the gym. This allows me to rationalize any and all purchases of workout wear from places like Lucy, Lululemon, and Nordstrom. (I realize you may be judging me right now for not buying such things at Target and TJMaxx, but these places often don’t have apparel for long torsos and I don’t like my belly button hanging out. Sorry.) I have noticed that Lululemon offers their own brand of underwear. Am I supposed to wear special underwear when I go to the gym? And if so, wouldn’t you think it would be appropriately priced to allow me to buy enough? Sometimes I go to the gym twice a day so I’d need at least 10 pairs of magic exercise knickers. This special underwear at Lululemon costs as much as….. wait for it…… $18 a pair!!!! You have got to be kidding. Again, I had better be seeing diamonds or fireworks for that price.      

            The real rip-off is for the girls who are outfitting themselves in strategically placed dental floss. Logic would lead one to believe that these would be the cheapest way to go. It seems that the smaller the article becomes, the more it costs. And let me tell you, you are definitely not paying more for comfort! What’s a girl to do? Does men’s underwear cost this much? I have come to think that $10 for one pair of ladies’ boy shorts out of a suitable breathing mesh fabric is reasonable. “Hanky Panky”s, while extraordinarily comfortable, are $20+ a pair. And upon researching some other prices, I discovered a La Perla “luxury thong” for $43. What the hell is a “luxury thong?!” The world has truly gone mad. There are people starving in Africa while women spend hundreds of dollars on drawers that hardly anyone sees. At least hardly anyone SHOULD see them if you’re not a stripper. I knew a girl back in Indiana who always had a bubble of her undies sticking out of the top of her pants. It was really unattractive, and I’m not sure what she was doing wrong to make that happen. I suppose this would also be an appropriate time to mention that I don’t want to see anyone’s thong out the top of her pants. I’m sure you want me to see it since you paid so much for it, but no thanks. I’m all set. Unless, of course, you’ve figured out a way for your thong to show me network television while I walk behind you. That I’d be interested in seeing.

It's Fashion Friday!: If Mr. Green Jeans Could See You Now...

           When I decided to start this blog, one of the platforms was that not all people with an interest in fashion are vapid, superficial nincompoops. I’ve always found it pretty offensive when people have expressed to me comments like, “You’re too smart to be a musician,” “You’re too smart to work in retail,” “You’re too smart to WHATEVER.” There are intelligent people touring all walks of life. People’s intellects should not be judged based on their professions, hobbies, or interests. That being said, we cannot escape the fact that there are plenty of superficial, idiotic morons walking amongst us (some of them even have ivy league diplomas). While these people can be infuriating, they also provide much fodder for our entertainment.

            Thanks to a friend, I was directed to this article on Gizmodo: “Skinny Jeans Are Damaging Your Health.” I don’t wear skinny jeans because I find it really uncomfortable to have such an anaerobic fabric as denim clinging like Saran Wrap to my calf muscles (and my legs are quite chicken like, so I don’t know how the chunky lower leg crowd can stand it). Overall, I don’t have a problem with them. And there are several people who have managed to find pairs that fit and didn’t make them look like they were suffering from a bizarre case of edema in the thigh/ass region. (You know… very thin on the bottom, but looking like there might be a circular life preserver around the hips underneath the pants.)

            According to the article, some of you out there have taken the vanity thing to an extreme and are actually wearing pants that are giving you nerve damage. NERVE DAMAGE!!!! I can’t stop laughing when I think about this. Your jeans are compressing the outer nerve in your thigh into the bone at the top of the hip joint. You may have numbness; you may have pain. Now I happen to be familiar with nerve pain. I have suffered from sciatica, caused by compression of different spinal nerves, on and off for years. And I can assure you that nerve pain is one of the most jarring, excruciating sensations I have ever experienced. So, I am just shaking my head at the fact that anyone would allow themselves to suffer nerve pain from wearing pants that are too tight.

            In addition to this, I can’t figure out how you are getting these tight jeans on your body without spraining back muscles and giving yourself a hernia. I wear leggings and tights, and they are fairly tight and a pain in the ass to put on, but not tight enough to cause nerve damage. These skinny jeans have to be even tighter than support hose. Right now, I’m picturing someone trying to put a pregnant sow into one leg of some pantyhose, because that has to be an equivalent simulation of what is going on here.

            Vogue.com thinks they have the answer with this fall’s “The Perfect Fall Pants.” In print they are claiming that bootleg and straight leg pants will be the new skinny jean. I can agree with the sentiment. The examples they give, on the other hand, make me wonder what kind of crack was passed around at their daily morning meeting the day this was compiled. Their cover photo exhibits some Rochas brocade pants to the tune of $1540. (Rochas makes some beautiful clothes, but their Fall/Winter 2012 collection looks a bit like they were trying to outfit Professor Trelawney – crazy divination professor/Emma Thompson – from the Harry Potter movies.)

            Filipa Fino (Vogue) claims, “Being fitted on top and flared at the bottom, these pants accentuate a feminine shape…The key to these pants is a heel, and they’re great if you’re short and want to hide it!” That may be true if the pants were not this horrific pattern. Not only do these pants scream pajamas, but these circles are going to make any tiny person look dumpy, no matter how flared the silhouette. To be honest, they look more like a wide leg than a flare.

            Sadly, it doesn’t really get any better. Aside from this beautiful pair of trousers by Prabal Gurung (which could be perfect if they weren’t $1125), the other selections in the editorial are either ugly, impractical, or both. Ankle zips on high-waisted white pants that appear to have front pleats by Doo.Ri. Ankle length skinny pants from Gap (didn’t they say they were going to show us something different than skinny jeans?). A couple of pairs of putty colored pants with slanted pockets at the hip courtesy of Gucci and Balenciaga. A Helmut Lang cropped pleated pant. I love Helmut Lang without question, but I have tried on enough of his pants to know that they are made specifically for boy shaped bottom halves.

Need I go on? You can look at them yourself. The colors are bland and boring and none of them will look good on anyone who isn’t a curve-less size 4 or below. This leads me to believe that these people working for Vogue don’t know much what they are talking about. Nor do they understand what a flared leg actually looks like.  Maybe their pants are just too tight and they’ve gone daft from the nerve damage.