Michael Jensen
Pants
By
Jan 2, 2008 - 4:40:00 PM

I’ve been thinking about pants lately.  I’m not sure why.  I’ve experienced no life-altering, pants-related incident of late.  Nor can I think of any dark memory from my childhood in which pants played a central role.  I’ve just been thinking about pants.

For example, where did the term “pants” come from?  It’s kind of a strange word.  Repeat it over and over again, like this: pants, pants, pants, pants.  Notice how it eventually loses its meaning?  Cool, huh?  Actually, you can do that with any word.  Try “cactus.”

Anyway, I’m sure the word “pants” has some logical meaning in a dead, ancient language, like Latin or French.  However, finding it would require me to do research, and as a humor columnist, I am forbidden by Rule 41J, Subsection C of the Journalist’s Code of Conduct from doing any research that might actually lead to the “truth” (also known as the “Dan Rather Rule”).

And why do we call it a “pair of pants,” when it is clearly only one garment?  Does the idea of “pair-ness” come from the fact that pants have two legs?  And if that’s the case, why do we have a pair of pants, but only a single bra, when there is certainly a pairness factor in that garment (as in, “Whoa, look at that pairness!”).

Also, who decided that pants were preferable to robes?  You’ll remember from all those 1950s gladiator movies that robes were all the rage in the ancient world.  Socrates hung out in a robe; so did the apostles.  Roman warriors went to battle in fashionable outfits that included skirts cut well above the knee for that ever-desirable “fierce but feminine” look.

And you know why they wore robes?  Because they were comfortable, that’s why.  Robes are loose and flowing and allow air to circulate throughout the “lower torso,” if you catch my meaning.  Pants, on the other hand, are tight and restricting and prone to split through the crotch when one bends over to pick up his wallet which he has accidentally dropped while waiting in line at the Krispy Kreme counter.

Can you imagine how embarrassing it would have been if this had happened to a Roman gladiator?  What if he had been right in the middle of a major battle against the Huns (or whoever the Romans used to have major battles against) and bent over to wipe the blood off of his sword or something:

“Wow, look at the all the blood on this (R-I-I-I-I-P).”

So how’d we end up in pants?  I picture it like this: a thousand years ago a bunch of guys are standing around in their robes one day when up walks a guy in the very first pair of pants.

“Hey, what you got there, Frank?” one of them asks.

“I call them ‘pants,’” Frank answers.

“Wow.  Are they comfortable?”

“Well,” answers Frank, “besides the fact that my private parts feel as though they’re locked in a very tiny prison cell, they’re great.  And check out what happens when I bend over!”  R-I-I-I-I-P

And just like that, the era of pants was born.

(Next week: Women prove they’re as dumb as we are.)

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