A BLUSTERY DAY

I’m driving to work this morning (along with just about everyone else in the greater San Jose area from the looks of traffic).

By the way, not a great day for driving because it is cold, rainy and windy. Californians tend to get behind the wheel on anything other than a perfect day and lose their minds – their little pea brains start screaming “Where’s the sun? Where’s the sun?”

But I digress.

I see a young gentleman crossing the street (at a light in a cross-walk, big points to you young man). He has on a hoodie (unlike Florida, this does not tend to strike terror in the hearts of Northern Californians) and shorts which are hanging low – way low. Got’s his boxers and the butt they contain hanging in the (wet) breeze.

Despite my advanced age, this does not bother me one bit. I say, “Get on with your bad self.” People should be free to express themselves with their clothing, hair, tats, whatever.

Apparently though, it does bother said young man, as he hoists his pants up and his hoodie down.

Cold wet butt trumps fashion every time.

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