| Two
or three of you might recognize this particular Pure Lard
entitled "Fanny Packs Are Da' Devil," but it's never
been on the internet! That coupled with my inherent laziness
and only being able to write whiny
shit lately are the reasons for bringing this not entirely
new Lard goodnes to you. Rest assured, I've done a bit of
a polish and rewrite on it, so even if you are one of the
two people who have read it before (my mom and... someone
else...), there are lil' bits of newness contained within.
Feel free to email me with accusations of laziness coupled
with a need to over explain myself to people who probably
don't care.
--d.j.
I’ve only truly hated three things in my life:
1. Purple Pants
2. Phil Collins’ music (except “That’s All”,
which was with Genesis, so it doesn’t count, you Cabbage
Patch Kid lookin’ bitch.)
3. And the subject of this LARD: Fanny packs.
Seems some jag-off decided that purses and backpacks were
too inconvenient and strapped a pouch around his/her waist!
Then, for reasons unfathomable, it caught on. In certain circles.
The same circles with those who wear Velcro tennis shoes.
Fanny packs are found most often at theme parks. For reals.
Go to Disney World. One out of every five people has one of
those retarded pouches on right above their elastic-waisted,
polyester-panted pussy bellies. These types often also have
powdered sugar covered elephant ears, Goofy baseball caps,
and about twelve mutant offspring all fuckin’ whining
about about being too scared to ride the Tower of Terror.
(It's awesome, you babies!)
About four months ago, my hatred of fanny packs began to consume
me. No longer something that just mildly annoyed me when I
saw it, the fanny pack started taking over my daily life.
At work, I couldn’t concentrate on the menial, trained
monkey shit I had to do, data potentially being entered incorrectly,
files running the risk of being misfiled, my mind clouded
with rage. Instead of paying attention to my busy work, I
pondered fanny packs and their place in the grand scheme of
things. To make things worse, once I got home I couldn’t
concentrate on my Everybody Loves Raymond nightly
reruns! In order to survie, I needed to learn more about my
new enemy...
First I hit the Internet. A simple Google search led me to
many fanny pack related sites pertaining to styles and brands,
but very little on the origin of the beast. A trip to ye olde
local library was in order. There I found more fluff info,
but nothing on from whence fanny packs came. That was until,
on a lark, I checked the occult section.
Holy. Shit. I mean... whoa.
Wesley Wyndham Price’s tome on ancient demons, entitled
Book of the Olde Ones’ Fashion Accessories,
references information suppressed by the Vatican and Abraham
Lincoln that postulate Lucifer wasn’t necessarily banished
from Heaven because of his ego and desire to usurp the Almighty
(Jesus's dad). Many secretly believe that his choice in fashion
was actually a key contribution in his rift with his Creator!
Here’s a telling passage:
 “And
lo, when the Morningstar was banished from Heaven, God said
unto him, ‘And take that dumbass, fool lookin' fanny
pack with you!’”
Further reading explores Adam and Eve’s expulsion from
Eden. Turns out they weren’t just wearing fig leaves.
Nope. A “lost” painting shows them leaving the
garden wearing not only leaves over their naughty bits, but
fanny packs as well! Turns out Satan not only tricked them
into eating from the Tree of Knowledge, he also gave them
FANNY PACKS as parting gifts, possibly to carry extra forbidden
fruit for snacking!
My admitedly feeble and sugar-addled mind was sufficiently
blown. Fanny packs played a part in the creation of Hell and
original sin! How has this information stayed buried in obscure
texts and out of the public’s eye for so long?
The Catholics clearly knew about this conspiracy and altered
Biblical text to hide it, so, who to turn to? I visited a
nearby Jewish temple to consult with Rabbi Schnitzlwitz. He
got all nervous and veclemped at the mere mention of fanny
packs. “I implore you, young Jew looking gentile,”
he said to me, “don’t look any further. Forget
what you’ve learned and move on with your life. This
is more dangerous than you could ever imagine! ...Uh, would
you like some Matzo soup?” I declined and started home
to ponder what I’d stumbled onto. Then, before I was
out the door, I reconsidered the Matzo soup offer, and got
some to go. THEN, with a hot bowl of soup, I pondered this
Satanic fanny pack quandry.
And decided that this cannot stay a secret.
Do your part, dear reader. Tell everyone you know. Spread
the word that fanny packs are not just goofy looking eyesores,
but the Devil’s accessory! And if you own one, for the
sake of all that is good and just in the world, dispose of
it the vile accessory immediately!
Fanny packs are da’ devil. |
