Scott Adams’ description of “undergarment dysfunction” made me laugh until tears streamed down my ruggedly handsome face.
“Now sometimes a pair of briefs – for reasons I cannot understand – have the most annoying characteristic you could ever imagine: In the course of normal walking and sitting, the wearer’s weinershnitzel ends up poking halfway through the flap hole like a turtle coming out of its shell. And before long, the most sensitive part of your body is wedged between your briefs and the harsh denim material of your pants. As I walked toward the departure gate, I was choking Private Johnson and giving him a noogie at the same time.”
If you don’t think his account of this incident fall-to-your-knees gasping funny, you and I stand on opposing banks of a comedy gulf that can never be bridged.