An open letter to Atlanta, GA

Dear Atlanta,

Hi. How's things?

Listen, I know we're not the best of friends... what with your insistence on calling every type of soda "Coke," and your passion for watching cars turn left for hours on end... not to mention Michael Vick...

My point is, it's not as if I needed more reasons to make fun of the south, but you've gone and decided to ban baggy pants, and the showing of underwear. Sadly including thongs and bras. What the hell are you thinking Atlanta?

Honestly, why can't you be more like Vermont? They just upheld public nudity, the god(s)-given right of everyone born... ever. Why do you think we're born that way?¹ I've my own mis-spent youth of bursting into all female parties and taking my clothes off. Sometimes also naked folk singing. That was good clean fun, and with the exception of a few girls crying (because they had never before realized their own men were so inadequate) everyone enjoyed it.

So how can you get up on your white-sheet-clad-high-horse and ban the kids from showing a little boxer? Is it suddenly illegal to wear a Speedo to go swimming? No? And it should be. But boxers (and bras and thongs) are an important part of our society. I can't count the number of times my mother has shrieked at me for walking around our front lawn in nothing but boxers and a secure sense of manliness. "Don't put our male neighbors to shame; have some modesty!" she complains.

But secretly everyone wants it to happen and you can't ignore it.

I'll conclude my argument with three points, one I think you'll agree with, one you won't understand, and one I think is undeniable.

1.) If you ban sagging pants how will you know which black people you can safely harrass? I mean, some of them can actually afford lawyers.
2.) Without legal baggy pants, low-level superhero Baggin' Saggin' Barry will have to go all Watchmen on your asses.
3.) Baggy pants? What is this 1995?

Just think it over.

- Scott

¹ Oh sure, I bet you'll argue that every once in a while a baby comes out wearing the placenta as a hat... but that's not clothes, Atlanta. And you know it.