Ray’s Thought for the Day - Sartorial Splendor

Over the course of quite a while that some name many moons, garments come and go. Those garments wear out or have accidents. Also, through no fault of their own, they may not fit, acceptably, so those garments, are discarded. Many of those departed yet personal dang garments are soon forgotten. Others are sadly missed. Yet others, worn to a frazzle, yet dear, may be kept safe in a drawer or juniper chest.

Where is my favorite garment? Here it is. This particular garment is my favorite all time shirt. Yet, it is worn out, thread bare. To keep it serviceable on special or ceremonial occasions, I have stitched in a tousand or maybe two tousand stitches. (A stitch in time, saves nine). So it is still perfectly all right to wear on special occasions so long as I remain inert. If I stretch or get active while adorned in this shirt, though the stitches hold, adjacent areas of the shirt may bust loose.

Now, this shirt mostly serves as an icon for sartorial splendor and a reminder that if I ever get another favorite garment comparable to this shirt, I must purchase a great plenitude of similarly replicated garments. See! I should have bought up maybe three fifty replications of my favorite shirt once I figured out my favorite shirt was my favorite shirt. But by the time I figured that out, sadly, it was too late, and I could not find any more of my favorite shirts anywhere.

Sartorial splendor for me, Ray Pistrum, Sun God Trainee, is an ideal balanced between twain contrasting ideals. One of the contrasting ideals is the sartorial splendor of Mohatma Gandhi whose favorite garment was baggy undears. I don’t know how many of those baggy undears Mohatma possessed, maybe, just two. Then the other contrasting ideal is the tailor made clothes wearing gentlemen. These dapper fellows may have a great many garments of every sort fitted to their personal dimensions.

Probably, I, Ray Pistrum, Sun God Trainee, could make a fit out of Mohatma’s baggy undears and get along in those, during Beelzebubberriffic. Yet, only random chance should fit me into a dapper fellows garments. I know the latter is a fact from personal experience having benefitted from some dress shirts the rich donated to the orphanage.

Here you go Ray, some nice tailored dress shirts, just for you. The sleeves may need to be cut down a mite.

Yepper, those sleeves got cut down a mite so that the shoulder seams fetched down to the general vicinity of my elbows. Fixing up the shortened sleeves to match the shoulder seams was quite a trick. Those shirts were pretty dang big.

Fortunately, in those days, I was chained to my little work desk in the near-Stygian darkness of the Tabby Lab laboratory and that was the only locale where I had to wear those particular shirts. Plus, my sister, Rayetta, would spell, You sure look handsome in that nice lab smock today, Ray.

What has triggered all these recent sartorial noggin thoughts is, of course, the change of seasons. These days, one can not set forth adorned to the minimum and get by all day. Noper, one must set forth adorned maximally, yet shuck this or that as Ogma Sunface dictates, maybe.

Ha! Here’s my bosom companion, Crumby, adorned in his green Brownie pants. Crumby, do you surmise that you shall shuck those green Brownie pants, anon. We are, the twain of us, fixing to head out to the east pasture to mow and stack hay.

I know Ray. Anon I must shuck my green Brownie pants. Anon, the fickle Ogma shall heat me up. Yet for the nonce these green Brownie pants shall serve me well. These green Brownie pants shall warm my poor crippled up legs so that I shall hobble about on my sore feet, stacking hay as efficaciously as may be.

All righty then, Crumby. Let’s head on out.

Annnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuhuhuhuhu! Crumby utters his chore war cry.