Communists Hate My Pants

I bought some new pants and I'm a little worried about how exciting I find that.


They're really nice pants which I got on sale, so they're way nicer than I'm used to. Like they're all soft and they never wrinkle, so every day I'm feeling lazy and don't want to iron, or I roll out of bed late and run out the door, I just say, "It's okay, I'll just dress in my fancy pants." Awesome.

Here's how you can tell these pants are too fancy, though: they have four ways of closing.

Four.

There's an inner button, a clasp, an outer button, and the zipper. These are, by far, the most secure pants I've ever owned that didn't put my penis on cock-down with a button fly.

Four? I mean four?? Time was a man was lucky to have a string to hold them up, and now I have pants with a quartet of closures. It's decadent, ostentatious, opulent.

Communists would fucking hate my pants.