Monday, January 25, 2016

"What Lies Beneath"

I am not vulgar.

I am not indecent. 

My writing style avoids the tasteless, the objectionable and the crude.

And then this happens.

And it comes as a startling surprise.

Here’s the thing.  And I am embarrassed to say this, but I am required to be truthful.

Every time I see Donald Trump on television…

I cannot help thinking about his underpants.

This phenomenon was not the case at the beginning.  But my reaction is now  immediate.  You’ve heard, “The heart wants what the heart wants”?  Well, “The mind goes where the mind goes.”  There’s not a thing I can do about it. 

I, Earl Pomerantz, freely acknowledge that I am… obsessed is not an exaggerated descriptive… with the Republican billionaire candidate’s…

Boxer shorts.

(How do I know it’s not briefs?  Here is my reasoning on that matter.  Billionaires can have things exactly the way they want them.  Think about it.  How the heck do you “customize” briefs?)

It may occur to you that I am a sick person – “Focusing on a billionaire’s underpants!”  I am telling you I cannot help it.  And in a way, this is entirely Donald Trump’s fault. 

The “externals” of Trump’s gargantuan wealth are everywhere.  You see the limos, the personal jet, the sumptuous business suits that could feed a moderate-sized family for a month.  And the hair, which I don’t know what it is, but it must cost a fortune in upkeep.

For me, seeing this conspicuous opulence triggers immediate thoughts of what you don’t see.  Which gets me thinking…

How unbelievably wonderful…

Are Donald Trump’s underpants?

I mean they have to be, don’t they?  Everything else is “Top-of-the-Line.”  Why wouldn’t his underpants be too?

What are we talking about do you think?  Pure silk?  Quality broadcloth?  Shipments of boxers, flown directly from Paris?  (With their own requisite First Class seat?) 

Or are Trump’s “Unmentionables” sewn by gifted Far-Eastern seamstresses, a chafing stitch meaning impoverishing dismissal? 

Is there a corporate underling, I wonder, assigned to scheduled replenishments ordered on

Full Disclosure:  My own underpants are hardly unimpressive themselves.  Personal favorites:  the Ralph Lauren boxers, Size 36, in a generous sampling of colors and designs.  These items, I acknowledge, are not inexpensive.  (Although the majority of them came from the Ralph Lauren at the Michigan City Outlet Mall.)

Basic honesty demands this unburdening acknowledgment.  Although far from “Trump-like” in its extravagance, I have a preference for quality in my underwear drawer. 

There is the possibility that I have given myself away here.  To a billionaire like Trump, having an “Underwear Drawer” may be a screaming indicator of being a “Loser”,  “Winners” instead having fully provisioned “Underwear Closets.” 

Rows and rows of virgin underpants – Trump wears them once and then tosses them away – neatly folded, and draped over quilted hangers, assiduously avoiding the giveaway “crease.” The hangers, heated like towel racks so Trump’s undies will be toasty-cozy when he slips a pair on. 

That’s what I’d do if I were a billionaire.  Wouldn’t you?

Okay, I just sighed, signaling that I am beginning to feel guilty.  And a little afraid.  Of what?  I may be flattering myself, but of a merciless “counter-attack”.  To which I am laughably vulnerable.

“Did you see that guy’s eye?  I don’t know where it’s going.  More importantly, neither does he!  

I believe I shall leave it at that.  Donald Trump is a superb “Personal Attacker.”  He needs no remedial assistance from me.

As far as the “guilty” part is concerned, I fear I am I am cheapening the discourse, mentioning a candidate’s boxer shorts.  Running for president is serious business.  The public is better served to focus, not on the irrelevancies, but on the issues at hand, and the thoughtful proposals for dealing with them.

Consider this a trivial distraction, for which I apologize.   I now reverse course and I ask you, for the good of the country and the hope of Mankind – which of course also includes women – when you see him on television – at a rally, in an interview, or in an ad if he ever bothers to pay for one – I beg you.  Keep your eye steadfastly on the ball.

And do not for a second

Think about Donald Trump’s underpants.

Although I imagine they’re sensational.

And Holy Christmas! 

How much do they cost?

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