Like Skirts and Tampons, Only Girls Wear Sandals to Work.

I’m not sure how it happened. Or exactly when. But somehow it became perfectly acceptable for men to wear sandals to work. In climate controlled office buildings. Inside. In full view of real men wearing real shoes.

“Harper, why waste precious joules of anger on men wearing sandals?” I’m gently asked, usually by smug slackers wearing sandals to the office. Listen, I base my whole life on one guiding principle of manhood, Sunshine, and you should do the same:


If you haven’t guessed by now, Lowbrow, this stands for What Would Robert Mitchum Do?

Mr. Mitchum only wears sandals to work when the script calls for it (see the excellent Cape Fear for reference). And the script had better call for major smack-downs and back slaps, too. Because smack-downs and back-slaps are the only acceptable actions that counter the wearing-of-sandals to work. A prison record and a sinister southern accent helps, too. Leering at underage girls is a bonus.

If Mr. Mitchum arrived to his pine-paneled office (staffed by dames and broads fetching him black coffee), and discovered one of his male subordinates wearing sandals, the immediate termination of employment would come in the form of a wordless punch in the face.

Sure, I know Jesus wore sandals. Don’t throw Jesus at me, you right wing nut. The Big JC didn’t have AC. Nor were His disciples Mr. Nike or Mr. Reebok. Tell you what, you bring me a notarized Birth Certificate certifying that you were a product of a virgin birth, and I’ll permit you to wear sandals at my office.

Some men-with-questionable-chromosome sequences attempt to alter my stance by insisting that sandals feel “cooler on the feet. “I suppose if we worked in a cabana or a Memphis City Public School that argument would carry some weight . However, we work in climate controlled offices, not on the set of Baywatch. David Hasselhoff has earned the right to wear sandals to work.

For the counterfeit claim that sandals are “cooler for the feet,” I’m penalized with hairy, misshapen hammer toes with yellowing, crumbly nails. Don’t point at your fellow female co-workers, Sally, because you’re just underscoring my point that sandals are for women. Women’s toes are pretty. Men’s toes belong inside of shoes.

The final ingenious argument? “They’re just comfortable!” Some people find anal plugs comfortable.

And where does it end? I’m most comfortable when I’m not wearing pants. I’ll stop wearing pants. Fuck the shirt, too. And if I’m going to chuck the shirt and pants, I might as well ditch the underwear too. Besides, it’s my comfort that’s important, not yours. Your discomfort is merely the product of your narrow-mindedness and retarded social mores. Tell you the truth, I’m even more comfortable whacking off. If you don’t like it, tough. Free country. It’s not my fault that the sight of a naked, slightly overweight man who just-so-happens-to-be whacking off makes you feel uneasy. If you are allowed to subject me to the home of roughly 30% of your sweat glands, then I think I should be able to Release the Kraken, if you know what I mean.

War’s over, Hippy. Put on some shoes with toes. In return, I’ll keep my pants on. I think that’s a good trade.


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