Headline
Today's headline: "Bush Aims to Cut Illegal Drug Use by 10 Percent". It seems that W has a better than average chance of doing it. "I did it before", the President said. "I personally dropped America's illegal drug use by 6% when I stopped snorting coke and smoking pot. If we can find one or two really big cokeheads, we've got a few percentage points right there".

Good Bye Old Winter Friends
I don't know if it's being a guy, but I tend to hold onto my clothes for years and years (though I usually change them daily), especially the stuff that doesn't seem to get much year-round use, like sweaters. Maybe I'm sentimental; maybe just mental, maybe I'm just cheap.

One of the joys of the coming of winter is the opportunity to get to wear my sweaters again. It almost makes up for chapped lips. Reading this, by admitting my sweaters bring me joy I realize I may be revealing too much about the pit of despair that is my life. Poor boy, some of his best friends are sweaters.

This winter I noticed that four of my sweaters (I have 6) have serious holes in them (serious being defined as either quantity of holes or quality or both). Four sweaters out of six is 66%.

The question is, how many holes can your sweater have before you have to retire it? A quick survey of men reveals either of two responses "I don't know" and "Who cares" (although usually phrased differently). A similar survey of women reveals "retire it if there is 1 hole". So not having a clear idea of what to do, well actually what I can get away with, I retired two of my old friends. The other two are on a wash-by-wash probation. Pathetic boy, some of his best friends are sweaters, and he throws them away when they get old.

I, like most men, don't like shopping very much. As some of the sweaters are 8 years old, statistically it will take me another 6 years to own 6 sweaters again and after that time the other two will probably be ready to go bye bye. I can quickly see a day where I don't own any sweaters. Poor boy, destined to die alone, sweaterless.

Winter Pants
A couple of years ago, I bought a pair of flannel-lined jeans from a catalog. The pair that showed up was dark indigo. Much too geeky to wear, so I bleached them. The result as an 80s acid-wash effect. Still not cool, but now in a totally different way.

Another Old Winter Friend
I've had my big, insulated, olive, J. Crew coat now for 7 years. Despite having a yuppie brand, it looks scarily a lot like what Chairman Mao used to wear. Though Mao probably didn't have a leather collar on his and also probably didn't have the choice of getting the jacket in meadowlark or tope. Except for having to sew the buttons back on a few times, it has been a very faithful garment, very warm, very sturdy, with a good amount of well-placed pockets. Like communism, my Mao coat has been looking ratty for a few years now, so last year I reluctantly decided it was well past time to retire it.

Last spring, many months after making that decision, I bought an amazingly cheap bomber jacket. I got about 7 or 8 uses out of it before the zipper broke this winter on one the coldest nights of the year. OK, so it was amazing cheap for a reason. Regarding the question a few paragraphs above, I guess we can knock off sentimental and just go with cheap; mental is still open.

After a cold trip home, and another month of wearing old faithful, I eventually bought another, more expensive bomber jacket. Bomber jackets look cool and are very warm. They also give your friends something harmless to bust on you about, mercilessly. The well of bomber jacket related busts appears to be bottomless. I got two weeks use out of it (and my friends two more weeks of heavy stone breaking) before the zipper on that one broke too. So now I have a store credit and am still using old faithful. And we will never know if the well of bomber jacket related busts is indeed bottomless. And the ordeal is on going; I am now forced to go shopping until I use up that credit... maybe I'll find a sweater I like.

How Much Did This Suck?
More than usual I expect. When I started writing about clothes, I knew it would be a challenge to make it even mildly amusing. But I did it anyway to see what kind of writer I could be, and because I had nothing to else to write about. When one's only inspiration is his sweaters, it's obvious the well of inspiration ain't too deep (unlike bomber jacket busts). At least I'm not writing about lint, not yet.

Don't worry about me; I have a too full closet of clothes (though with a little more room lately) and plenty of non-fabric friends.

I'm done. - Scoats