The twenty-first century has been plagued with a multitude of fake gods. Beings, that are not as omnipotent as they are omnipresent, whose sole purpose is to be worshipped. But I’m not here to discuss those unfortunate souls who will not enter their mythical place of happiness. Fake gods bear no meaning to me, nor does a real one. I’m not distraught by the possibility of the existence of a god. What really makes my mind wander as I drift off into a comatose state of pure bliss, are guys that make denim their second skin. I’m not talking about the fact that they might, or might not, use denim based apparel at all times, no, I’m talking about the fact that the jeans that they use are way too tight to be comfortable.
Picture a kid, alone in a big room, free to wander between the four walls that compromise his very existence. The room is huge, he has a lot of space to explore. Some people want their kid to be free, but most of the people who have such a kid, make the decision of chaining him, restricting his movement in the room. Sure, he can move, but he can’t move as freely as he would like to. But don’t worry, there’s enough room for him to explore with those chains around his neck, and the fact that he is restricted puts the parent’s mind at ease. That kid will not run away.
Now picture that same kid, in the very same big room. This time though, he doesn’t have a chain around his neck. If you’re picturing the kid with nothing that prevents him from exploring that room, you’re picturing him wrong. He doesn’t have the chains around his neck, but he is not free. That very same kid that ran happily within the length of his chains, is now wrapped in cellophane paper. Cellophane paper constricting every single twitch and squirm of his body. If it weren’t for the small hole in the cellophane paper that covers his mouth, the kid would be no more. How could someone do such a thing to the poor child? At least with the chains he was free, as free as the chains allowed him to be.
I don’t know if you got there yet, but there is no kid. The kid you’ve been picturing so far is a figment of your imagination. You didn’t find right what they did to the poor kid in the third scenario, nobody does. Would you do it? Not unless you’re in some kind of list. But there are people that do it. The only difference from what I said and from what they do, is the fact that they don’t wrap their kid in cellophane paper. They wrap it in denim. They prevent every single twitch and squirm with denim. Also, the kid is their penis.
You know how girls don’t really use the pockets in their jeans, because it’s too tight? If you’re a girl you’re probably familiar with this occurrence, imagine that you had to place a medium sized cucumber in your pocket, seems uncomfortable doesn’t it? Now imagine that you have nerves running along your pocket friendly cucumber that provide you with feeling and pain in that area. For fucks sake, just imagine that you have a penis in tight jeans. That shit is not comfortable.
I don’t judge people based on their appearances, okay maybe I do, but you don’t have to know about it. I’m not going to scream “faggot!” at some guy just because he chose to wear pants that fit ever so tightly around his ankles. But don’t you dare come to me and say that that fashion statement provides a moderately adequate level of comfort. I will gauge your eyes out and bash your skull in, with a studded leather belt, or how you like to call it “my Monday to Tuesday pant holder”.
But my rage boils down, and between the fumes of what was once hate filled anger, remains incomprehension. Why would someone choose to do that to their privates is beyond my understanding, but then again some dudes like to get punched in the balls and they come with it. To each its own I guess.