Waiting for Gouda

I don’t know about where you live, but here in the Land of Lincoln, a popular sartorial choice is a particular type of pants often referred to as “jeans”. A popular manufacturer of these jeans, should you believe what you see on the television, is a company called Levis.

A recent advertisement for these Levis shows a young man trying, with some unexpected level of difficulty, to put on his pants. He bends over, gripping the denim with white knuckles and straining with what appears to be enormous effort to pull them up his spidery male-model legs. It seems somewhat ridiculous upon first glance, since the pants don’t look to be particularly tight, and one might speculate that the gentleman in question spends at least a portion of the time he saves by only shaving every sixth day on upper-body workouts.

However, what you don’t know, dear viewer, and what is revealed presently as the hunky man-child finally succeeds in gaining control of his trousers, is that Levis pants exert a certain heretofore unknown gravitational field, as powerful as it is rare, which causes the entire city to rise up as the pants climb over his hips. Literally.

The entire city street surrounding his undoubtedly hip urban apartment building levitates in concordance with his pants, completely destroying his entire home in a blur of noise and strangely evaporating rubble. And although your first instinct might be to feel sorry for the poor fellow whose own pants, after all, have apparently just obliterated all of his material possessions, you should not. Because a young woman in a phone booth, luckily also wearing a pair of magical, physics-defying Levis jeans, has been catapulted into the space that must have recently been his bathroom. And despite experiencing what must have been such a horrifying trauma, she is not afraid, nor relieved to be alive, nor even confused about what has just happened. Instead she smiles at Mr. Rip Rockslab, and her appearance has clearly assuaged all of his concerns about where he will now live, or how many of his neighbors he may have accidentally killed by getting dressed.

They walk off together, presumably to hit a tavern or perhaps one of the area nightclubs that have more relaxed dress codes, because let’s face it: even magic, city-destroying jeans are just, in the end, jeans. Although I guess if a doorman gives them a hard time, they could plunge the offender into the bowels of hell simply by getting undressed.

Bottom line: Levis jeans will destroy your home. Probably best to avoid them.