Flan-El

Goddamnit I hate flannel. I mean it, I really mean it. Especially longed-sleeved, plaid flannel purchased at the Salvation Army; it really makes my blood boil. I can’t stand all those clashing colors and symmetrical stitch patterns; it’s just too much for me. Do those of you who actually happen to wear the material find it becoming on you? Honestly, do you? I beg of you, please, for your own sake as much as mine, take a good look at yourselves and come to your senses. This is America, not Canada. We have The Gap and Filenes here. For Heaven’s sake I want to help you! Trust me, things could be better, life could be different. And God forbid you should wear Carhartts (As one who wears plaid usually does). I must have been in the bathroom when those greasy canvass pants smeared with resin and stained with wine started coming into fashion. Do you think you might change your pair at least once a month? We all know that your Leatherman and Badger Balm fit perfectly in the side pockets and that your nappy hankerchief folds delightfully into the back, but do us a favor, hmm? There’s this one little guy who’s always in the Bailey Howe library sitting there contently in his flannel and Carhartts without fail. I hate him. Not only does he wear the same shirt and pants everyday, but women absolutely love him. No joke. I don’t understand it. They fight each other to sit next to him and offer him trail mix and tea. What’s wrong with them? It can’t be his personality; all he talks about are Yonder Mountain String Band shows. I’m very discouraged. But you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down, right? We’re on the same page, aren’t we? You haven’t forgotten corduroy and denim, have you? I’m tired of these hill-people stealing our sisters and girlfriends, listening to bluegrass music and brewing their own beer. This will not stand.