The fun has kinda been beaten outta this one for me so I will attempt one last time to make it simple, that’s S-I-M-P-L-E for those who have a hard time following along.
For those that are truly stupid, I will type slowly. I do this only so that the point does not get lost, twisted or otherwise butchered by some fanatic desperate to leap out of the digital bushes and yell “Aha!, I got you, you Bastard”.
Morals are a pretty personal thing, I think that we would agree (If you don’t, then please stop reading now and head back to your pulpit to tend your flock, we obviously won’t be getting along just now)
As personal and private as say, my underwear? (color, size, fit and of course sanitation)
I would say yes.
Now, if you were to meet one of your neighboors at a community function and the topic of “clothing” came up, would you fling the conversation from comfortable knits to his underwear? of course not, you could kiss borrowing his leaf blower goodbye and you could bet that nosy Ellen Parker from down the street would be all over that little quirk. I agree that if a conversation were to start about underwear (just what kind of neighboorhood do you live in anyway?), it would undoubtedly slide in to a discussion about your own preference and practice. This would be acceptable but when the coversation is beaten into submission so that you can tell the world about your new Fruit of the Looms with the new wider waistband that keeps the underwear in place and longer leg design that prevents binding, riding or shifting, and “I prefer brown then I can wear 'em twice!”, well hey, I’m just gonna call “Freak” and politely excuse myself using whatever handy excuse is handy - “Oh look!, I seem to have shoved this cocktail fork in my eye, excuse me…”
Now, if you wander around from conversation to conversation queering things up with your Fruit of the Loom fixation, someone eventually is going to drag you outside.
Keep it up and that someone (Kenny Cranick from 8230 maybe?, he looks a little short fused) is going to slap you around beside the oil recycling bin and spoonfeed you this weeks batch. “Why”? you cry as a charming blend of canola and tallow slide down your throat, “I was only exercising my freedom of speech, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!”.
I’ll tell you why:
Because, Ken exercised HIS freedom of speech when he told you to shut up about your stupid fucking underwear. You then exercised your right to ignore him. Ken then took the option of exercising HIS right to slap you silly beside the “Oil Buddy”.
Now, of course I don’t think that most (any?) of us would have this happen to us (either as the FOTL fetish guy or “Kenny”) because in “real life” there are certain things that unless you are directly asked about you reserve comment on.
Why would you behave differently here? Why does the shield of your computer screen make you feel that you can comment on MY morality when you are NOT asked too (O.k, O.k, I admit that my “I’m presently engaged to a mail order hermaphrodite but I am afraid that married life will interfere with my sexual relationship with my Goat named Elvis, what should I do?” post was just asking for it but short of that, why the unsolicited advice?
This is in no way to be construed as an endorsment of “today’s” morality because quite simply we could be “better” as a race (human, not any one particular flavour) and if setting “higher” morals are part of it then great. Yes, the NEED is there, NO this is not the place nor method to fill it.
[I do have to add that this post was typed entirely without the aid of spellcheck. I also worked without a net. And pants.]
In closing, all I have to say is:
Jockey Sport Boxer Brief Underwear, XL, Red.
And yes, everyday.
“Private property began the instant somebody had a mind of his own”
~ E. E. Cummings