I Demand the Constitutional Right to Wear Chinos

The big impeachment trial is ending, which featured lots of horrible behavior. It was all a big $h!+ - slinging contest, in which each side insisted that the other’s $h!+ smelled much worse than theirs. At the end, everyone ended up covered in $h!+ and nothing got done except that a bunch of our tax money got wasted, but we’re used to that.

While most of these political hi-jinks were boring and inconsequential, it was an opinion column written by a well-known commentator that pushed me over the edge. I am thoroughly and totally enraged! This guy is upset because one of the senators had the utter brazenness to wear chinos at the Friday wrap-up session. And not just any chinos, they were “cotton chinos”! They were made completely of cotton. Oh, the audacity! Oh, the depravity! Oh, the utter bastardization of our democracy.

Our republic is now in danger because of chinos. Chinos – that’s what this ultra-elitist hack is upset about. Not anything else about this sorry spectacle. Chinos – that’s what’s destroying this country. And this infuriates me. I will defend the right of all men, and even some women, to proudly sport chinos when the situation demands it. And this impeachment trial surely qualifies.

If I’m sitting listening to hours on end of mind-numbing, repetitious gunk, I need to be as comfortable as possible. I do not want my ever-expanding thighs to get chafed, and chinos won’t cause any abrasion because they are so soft and comfy. Besides, if I can’t shift around in my seat, my hemorrhoids are in danger of becoming inflamed. So chinos provide me the mobility I need and permits me to man-spread without rubbing certain body parts raw. Yes, I can spread it – spread it wide.

While those chinos guard my nether-regions, they defend the tenants of democracy as well. Because if you ask me to vote on a penalty for someone when my thighs are scraped and my hemorrhoids burning, I am likely to vote to have them executed, even if that is not an option and they belong to my own political party.  Yeah, what can prevent this? One word – Chinos. The soft, calming comfort of chinos!

This writer of course is probably some ivy-league geeker who around his gated suburban abode in $300 slacks, $150 loafers, and an exquisite cashmere sweater. He probably doesn’t even own a pair of chinos.  This goof-head is also upset because three other senators were chewing gum doing the proceedings. “Ooh, ooh, teacher, Joni’s chewing gum in class!” He’s mad about chewing gum and chinos? What type of freakazoid, geekazoid, are you? He is some Washington elitist who doesn’t understand Midwestern values, and, in my case, Midwestern thighs.

If chinos would have existed in colonial times, I’m sure the 11^th amendment in the Bill of Rights would have given us all the right to wear chinos whenever we darn well wanted, even during congressional meetings. That’s what made the founder fathers great. They were willing to sit in long meetings in uncomfortable clothes to create this nation. They literally sacrificed their thighs for their country.

So, I will stand up for the God-given, constitutionally driven, right to don chinos whenever and wherever I choose. Give me liberty – to wear chinos – or give me death. I’m sure Patrick Henry would have backed me up on this if he had even gotten to experience the oh so great feeling of those chinos.