Rants in the Pants, Episode 3

I had something real important to write about but it slipped my mind when I discovered a question asked me by one of my fans. I can assure you that most of the questions you folks ask are frivolous and unimportant. What is important about when will WWIII start? It will start when it starts. What is the importance of asking how long will we last before Artificial Intelligence concludes we are a disease infecting our planet and decides to fumigate? Don’t you know it has started already? Most of your questions wind up in file 13 sitting next to my desk but this one needed to be answered because it strikes at the heart of what my writing is all about: “Why did you name your column “Rants in the Pants?”

If you didn’t know, it’s a play on the old saying, ants in the pants, meaning extreme discomfort to the person wearing those pants causing them to squirm and jump around. That’s what I am to people who haven’t got their heads on straight. Clever, ain’t it? I am merciless, too. The ants I put in people’s pants are none other than those terrible fire ants that migrated here from Mexico along with a lot of other species I won’t mention. By the way, what happened to that wall?

While we are talking about pants, I have a special shout out to those elected officials who resigned to spend more time with their families because the general public just found out that their mommas didn’t teach them how to use a zipper. How many have there been? I must admit I’ve lost count. Maybe you could fill me in below in the comments section.

Also, there used to be a phrase, “Who wears the pants in the family?” Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, they changed it to “Who wears the dress in public?” Family has been rerouted to public and smashed into little pieces. Pants are now dresses and we are all entreated to give in to our feminine side if we are male and our masculine side if we are female. But it goes even deeper than that because the words, “male” and “female” seem to have become forbidden and instead they have inserted into our language 243 pronouns of which I am unable to make sense of a single one. Who the hell made this cake? With some people identifying as animals and all those pronouns, how can we tell what is going on? Anyway, I am thinking of identifying as a skunk so I can spray all of this away and we can start over with the basics: male plus female. You can bet I will also keep my pants on and will continue to fill other peoples’ pants with fire ants as I see fit.

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