The Christmas Inventory has begun

Last night I received my first gift of clothing – a Columbia sweatshirt made in Sri Lanka. (Thanks, Randy and Sheila.) I’ve added it to the “The First Annual Where Are YOU Wearing Christmas Inventory Contest of Destiny” post.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to make it to my mom’s family’s Christmas in Illinois this past weekend. We got about 8 inches of snow that came along with 40 mph winds. Mom’s family has a tradition of gifts that require explanations and/or are accompanied by belly-aching “please-stop-or-I-might-pass-out” laughter, and the occasional inappropriate comment that puts the X in X-mas. We have a blast. And it’s just not the same giving or receiving gifts when were not all crammed in my Grandma’s basement trying to crack…

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Ode to the T-shirt

They are windows to our souls. They say who we are and what we believe; who we support and who we despise. A good one will make us laugh or, heaven forbid, think just a little. Maybe. A bad one will make us roll our eyes, draw our ridicule.

More than any other item of clothing we own, our T-shirts deliver our message to the world.

“Shit Happens.” The red shirt with large block yellow lettering, worn by a man applying to join my father’s construction crew, provided me with my earliest lesson of the power of the T-shirt. I was playing in the yard with my brother when the man stepped out of his car and walked towards the house/office.

By this time in my life…

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The First Annual Where Are YOU Wearing Christmas Inventory Contest of Destiny

My Undies

At some point in our lives we shake a present and, when we hear that it’s clothes not toys, we don’t pout. Instead we think, “Huh, I could use some new clothes.”

That’s a sad day.

It happens when we can no longer blame our mothers for dressing us like doofi (plural of doofus) in pinstriped blue jeans and snowflake sweaters; when we take over our own fashion responsibility, for better or worse. For me that time was high school. Sure, I didn’t actually buy or pick out my clothes in the store – Mom still did – but I did dress myself: “Now, which Scooby-Doo T-shirt should I wear today?” Christmas was a time to expand my selection of Scooby…

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The NLC would like to slap you in the face

This video produced by the National Labor Committee has some pretty powerful images, including young Bangladeshi women sleeping with their faces smooshed against the side of their sewing machines.

I’m all for people knowing where and who make their clothes, but I think this video has some faults. The narration is a bit extreme and completely dismisses the context in which the workers live.

The narrator says that the factories reach 100-degrees in the summertime and that the worker’s clothes are covered in sweat as if the workers have a place to escape the heat. They don’t. If they weren’t at the factory, they would be sitting in 100-degree heat in their home. Granted, workers coloring…

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Economists: “Oops, there aren’t 100 million below poverty in China; there’s 300 million.”

Keep in mind 300 million is about the population of the USA. I’m guessing that Li and Zhun, who made my flip flops, are among them.

From an Op-Ed piece by Eduardo Porter in Sunday’s NY Times:

Suddenly the number of Chinese who live below the World Bank’s poverty line of a dollar a day jumped from about 100 million to 300 million, roughly the size of the United States population. And if you thought China’s energy consumption was dismally inefficient, consider that it still uses the same amount of energy to produce 40 percent less stuff. The reassessment does not just involve China. India is also likely to be downsized. And, by the way, global growth has very likely been slower than we thought.

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The awards for excellence in butt journalism

Not to make light of colon or rectal cancer, but I received the following letter in the mail today and it cracked me up:

The American Society of Colon and Rectal Surgeons (ACRS) invites you to submit an entry in the 2008 National Media Awards program, which recognizes journalists who have excelled in communicating information to the public about colon and rectal disease, such as colorectal cancer, hemorrhoids, diverticulitis, Crohn’s Disease, ulcerative colitis, anal fissures, and irritable bowel syndrome.

I can’t remember the last time I wrote about anal fissures…Oh, wait, I’ve never written about anal fissures. I really can’t think of anything that I’ve ever written that would warrant me receiving an invitation to participate in this award.

Of course, maybe they read my story about farting on airplanes

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