I thought I was done with this. Jimmy Carter had problems out the you-know-what by the time he debated Ronald Reagan in 1980. His a_s was toast and his campaign reeked of simply going through the motions. But the Carter Clip-On Collar Bar couldn't have helped one i-damn-ota during the televised debates with Reagan. Look at it...languishing well below the higher, appropriate point of cinched-up contact where its purpose should manifest. Even if it was "slide-ruled" all the way up, the result would be sub-par compared to the tie stance visual interest enhancing big boy pin-through version. Come to think of it, Presidents or Presidential aspirants shouldn't wear any kind of tie stance enhancing hardware. A tie-knot preen, even correctly contrived, might cause Presidential Gravitas attenuation.
Either pin it like this or not at all. I don't have to worry about Gravitas attenuation. I'm only a Vice President...in the private sector...in a small company...which means I'm also on any given week, Human Resources, Plumber, Auditor, Customer Service, Writer, Editor and Window Washer. Shut. Up.
You've heard me on this issue before. I’m weary of it and chances are most of you are too. Don’t make me have to address it again. If you own the slide/clip-on version—get up right now. Get up and locate it. And throw it in the trash immediately…this second. Now. And not in the little bathroom or bedroom wastebasket where if you change your mind after church today, you can retrieve it. Nope. Go straight away to the kitchen and shove it down in that large garbage can amongst last night’s casserole remnants and yesterday’s Greek salad lunch fixings…all of which must be rolled to the street tonight for pick-up first thing in the morning. Got it? Good.
Oh, and while you’re at it, toss out any of those little bo-bo cardigan sweaters that you might have languishing in the closet. And please, if you are wearing one while reading this, just jump out the damn window.
Sorry for the Sunday dose of tough love. But sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
Onward. With, from last night; systemic, Altoid proof, Greek salad breath. In a bo-bo cardigan. Till LFG tells me to take it off.
ADG the Two