What is the deal with humanity’s obsession with footwear?

The mania with Crocs, the plastic footwear that hit the market several years ago, is remarkable. They seem to be modeled after the famed Dutch-boy wooden shoes often offered to tourists as trinket souvenirs when in the Netherlands. It’s not enough to be taking home a model windmill or Delft blue dinnerware when in the Nordic region; now we’re wearing enough replica footwear to equal the gross national product of one of those countries in the land of the splintered foot. It’s enough to make you want to change your name to Inga or Sven!

It makes one wonder about a place where marijuana is legal, and if ground zero of the Crocs idea came from a late-night college party in Amsterdam after making fun of the locals wearing wooden shoes! Those parties are like the American ones where someone ends up with underpants on their head and having the palm of their hands super-glued to their temples so when the drunken fool wakes up he looks like he’s in a constant state of panic and shock. Apparently higher-education parties in the Netherlands are paying bigger dividends than their U.S. counterparts. You haven’t seen the “underwear helmet” on the market yet, have you?

Now of course there has been some negativity attached to this ingenious footwear product—the cost, for one. Genuine Crocs (the original) cost upward of $50 a pair. Remember, they are just molded plastic! The rest of society’s slobs would rather take the imported knockoffs available at Rip-Off-A-Mart for $5 a pair. These are the same folks that produce counterfeit auto parts so that when you use their $1.95 set of hubcaps they come rolling off the car somewhere on the highway. Ever see a stray hubcap? Now you know how it got there, all alone on the side of the road.

The Croc shoes have more holes in them than a block of Swiss cheese (another famous invention from the Netherlands). That, however, is really a benefit. If you’ve spent any time wearing leather or athletic shoes that choke the air to your sweating feet, then you know the benefit to Crocs. They are both cooling and aromatic. That cuts both ways.

These shoes are also touted as good for diabetics in that they promote circulation of the extremities. Not that it’s a bad thing, but many diabetics could benefit more from a regular exercise program to eliminate their obesity than stuffing the girth of swelled little piggies into a very expensive and cleverly formed piece of plastic.

Increasing blood flow through regular workouts is much better than standing at the hotdog stand at Coney Island in a pair of Crocs, choking down ungodly meats of unknown ingredients, and cholesterol-laden French fries cooked in peanut oil and drenched in vinegar. The sneaking suspicion, however, is that per capita, Crocs are owned more by couch potatoes than Olympic athletes, though there is no empirical evidence of that to date.

Until one tries on a pair of these foot products that seem to have cornered the market, they will be deceived. Once trying them the patron will be surprised. They are comfortable and habit-forming for the feet. As a child, if you had to wear shoes of plastic you would likely have been embarrassed enough to seek the first freight train to throw yourself in front of—much the feeling many youngsters used to have when having to wear flip-flops pushed on them by their cheapskate parents during vacation.

Crocs are the newest fashion annoyance since the invention of the flip-flop. What’s worse than walking on plastic? Walking on Styrofoam with a strap between your toes and making a slapping noise like a Clydesdale coming down the sidewalk. Flip-flops defy silent movement. Don’t try to sneak up on prey in them or you’ll be the one to get eaten. Get in on a seminar of flip-flop wearers, and you’ll think you’re in a Three Stooges convention with all of that repetitive slapping.

For all the drawbacks, wearing this new accessory to your regular beachwear is quite useful, and a head-turning experience. How many places can you wear shoes that are neon green or orange enough to blind the average person into looking the other way when going to church services, and yet still be accepted? You are a sinner, after all, so why not display your fashion sin in bright, eye-popping colors?

Of course, the person who invented these little gems is laughing all the way to the bank, and probably lives on their own personal Croc Island somewhere with a pina colada in one hand and a member of the opposite sex on their lap. So many of these things are around that the inventor is probably among the few gagillionaires in the world with their own island. He’s next to the guy who invented the hula-hoop and the one who came up with the Frisbee.

Can you guess what they do on their islands? Why, they hula-hoop and play Frisbee, of course! A group of loyal minions and groveling yes men on Croc Island probably accompanies the Croc genius wherever he goes, and naturally, all of those folks in the entourage wear Crocs. At least they don’t make as much noise as the stooges of the gazillionaire on Flip-Flop Island.

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Giosue’ Santarelli is a prolific political columnist, humor columnist, and feature writer who has been scribbling for nearly 40 years. Visit his humor column website “The Devil’s Advocate” at www.devilsadvocate111.blogspot.com.

What can a child do for dad on Father’s Day? This “holiday” conjures up images of wowing dad with a card, a fishing reel, or a trip somewhere. The feeling, however, is not the same as the day set aside for mom.

After all, mother struggled for nine months to give you life, incurring every ache, pain, bloatation, and mood-swing known to humankind. You owe her big time.

Dad’s part in that whole process was as coach, cheerleader, and late-night delivery boy responsible for finding an all-night pistachio ice cream and sardine store at 3 o’ clock in the morning-all at a moment’s notice. Given the vast differences in such umbilical beginnings, dad is at a distinct disadvantage.

He might be the one who has taught you to throw a ball, swing a club, or deliver a smooth line to a girl when trying to get to first base, but Father’s Day does not truly rival the hullabaloo of the guilt-driven Mother’s Day, which has a sacred-halo status.

So how can you give tribute to this important man who, though overshadowed from an emotional standpoint by the woman of the house, still deserves something of appropriate honor? The options are limitless.

Many folks think of their dad as someone difficult to buy for. Sure, you may think he has everything, but if you are careful to watch the interaction between mom and dad, then you’ll realize that dad either has nothing, does nothing, or looks like he does everything when in fact he does nothing. Dad is a clever character.

In the gift category you can usually buy dad something electronic. If it is a gadget that whizzes or bangs, dad is usually as mesmerized as the family dog with the wind in his face, hanging his head out of the car window. Both have the same tail-wagging experience when it comes to what they like.

Satisfying dad is fairly easy. Why? Because compared to mom, dad is rather easy going. He’s seen the horrors of family life, and he knows to leave the heavy lifting to the General of the house. He’s happy he relinquished that role when the kids arrived!

So cell phones are nice, Tivo, iPods, Palm Pilots, and Blackberrys will all suffice as a nice gift. A pinwheel with its wind-driven motion would even keep the simple man entertained as long as there is enough of a breeze.

It’s the same effect that you find with the family cat that is fascinated by the spot from a flashlight. You move it; they chase it, and bang their head on the closet door when the light runs up the wall. Dad is as easily distracted and amusing.

Where can you take him for a day of dad-like fun? Usually any sporting event will do. If there is a NASCAR, ladies’ mud-wrestling, football game to be found he’ll be a happy camper.

Hey, camping-there’s another idea. Dad likes the great outdoors, sleeping with the insects and rolling around on a dirt floor. Usually dad is a couch potato, so if you have a portable handheld television to drag with you wherever you take him, or transportation large enough to haul a couch, then you’re guaranteed to give him the best Father’s Day he’s ever known. Throw in a little extra dirt without a Laundromat and he’ll be in heaven.

For the outdoorsman dad, a nice day skeet shooting might be good. However, you might have to tolerate being seen with him in his puke green plaid shirts, vests, and other hideous apparel. If he’s older he’ll need a belt. It’s hard to keep his pants pulled up and secured around his chest without one. There is also the case of beer you can supply after such outdoor activity that will make him so happy that he’ll tell you stories that will make him cry.

You could also take dad to his favorite watering hole. No, not the tavern-I mean fishing. There he can show you the finer points of putting a worm on a hook, and of course how to drink enough beer to achieve a second-degree redneck sunburn. How classic! Beet red on only his lower arms and legs; this is the hallmark of a joyful dad.

Still, a card is nice, or the old reliable standby, the tie, will show your appreciation too, especially if pictured on the tie is a lady mud-wrestler shooting skeet from a stock-car while driving for a touchdown and casting out a line in hopes of catching the big one that got away.

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Giosue’ Santarelli is a prolific political columnist, humor columnist, and feature writer who has been scribbling for nearly 40 years. Visit his humor column website “The Devil’s Advocate” at www.devilsadvocate111.blogspot.com.

By Giosue’ Santarelli

There are parts in automobiles primarily used as safety devices. Modern vehicles have airbags, padded dashboards, and specially designed head rests. Simple devices such as seatbelts were auto after-thoughts long after baby-boomer childhoods. Many a middle-aged man or woman has the radio button pocked-forehead scars to prove it.

We’ve come a long way, or have we? The most misused safety feature on a car is the horn. Never mind that roadways are strewn with carnage like fans in the aftermath of a World Cup soccer match gone awry. Spend any time driving in rush-hour traffic, and you’d think you were at a Green Bay Packers football game during the Lombardi era. These abundant loud blasts emanating from cars carry a sentiment much worse than a Bronx cheer.

Originally designed to warn other motorists, beep-”Hey don’t drive in front of me that’s dangerous”-has more aptly become honk-”You stupid @%$!& moron, who the #@&”!$% taught you how to drive?”

Often the horn is accompanied by specific hand gestures, and uncontrolled contorted muscular gesticulations. Now, in a split-second after someone cuts you off on the highway, you shoot anger down your arm, through the horn, and right at the offender. It’s almost like turning on an electrical switch to a bolt of lightning. If you were in a James Bond 007 hot-rod you would have hit the rocket-firing button to vaporize the road perpetrator into a mere Ford Taurus dust cloud.

Today the horn has become somewhat more of a safety device not to warn other drivers, but to curse them once the offense has been committed. Thus it keeps the offended safe.

Driving down a roadway going the speed limit, and having someone pull their car out in front of you ten feet before you arrive, is frustrating, and bruising to your brake-pedal foot. Then, when they have the audacity to drive seven miles per hour in front of you afterward, it sends most drivers’ hands to the steering wheel to sound the alarm.

Eventually you pull behind them at a stoplight, and if you hadn’t blasted your horn you might get out and confront the #&%@%*% knucklehead.

So the horn performs a service for you without having to actually exercise your body by getting out of your car, pulling them from theirs, and beating the crap out of the inconsiderate S.O.B.

Of course, doing so is the result of the much dreaded and conveniently invented “road rage.” Let’s face it; some people deserve a good smacking to stimulate their driving skills.

Getting a driver’s attention, after all, is the main design of the much dreaded “speed trap” utilized by the authorities. Teenagers, soccer moms, little ol’ ladies, men over 80 years old, and folks who can’t see over the steering wheel should not have licenses. However, any one of these is confrontable once they’ve misguidedly slid in your lane like a black cat crossing your path. As such, something bad is going to happen. It can be a simple horn blast and raised finger, or it could be worse.

Your mother would think you crazy if you got out of your car to vent your displeasure with other drivers. She’d say something like, “What if that person was built like Mike Tyson or something? You don’t know what they’ve got in their car!”

Aside from potentially having your ear bitten off, telling the other driver what you think of their performance is an American tradition. It has only come into vogue in the last decade or so that folks have decided to deliver the message in person. The horn protects us from such hazardous work. After all, those other guys always drive like @^&%$#* imbeciles, and you are the model of highway perfection.

If things don’t escalate after you are perturbed enough to jump from your car and visit their front door at the stoplight, you still might find yourself being shipped off to anger-management classes if the scene is witnessed by the “police officer donut patrol.”

So ya see, it might be better just to stay in your car and channel your distress via the horn.

However, if you have a compact car with the volume of an annoying yapping Chihuahua, you might want to install a super-decibel-delivering Mack Truck-size diesel horn capable of delivering a rear-window-shattering blast. That would teach those #$@^%s to stay out of your way, or at least make you memorable.

Heck, if nothing else, at least you’d have a great road-rage story to tell in anger-management class!

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Giosue’ Santarelli is a prolific political columnist, humor columnist, and feature writer who has been scribbling for nearly 40 years. Visit his humor column website “The Devil’s Advocate” at .

When did the American workforce abolish secretaries?
Heard recently on a radio commercial was the celebration of “Administrative Assistants Day.” It sounded so odd to the ear that it cast doubt that any self-respecting chauvinistic boss would want to chase one of those around the desk at the office. Read the rest of this article »

Dating vs. Relationships By Giosue’ Santarelli

Aside from the obvious perks of having a long-term steady significant other, there is an advantage to such dedicated lifestyles.
Sure, you have to deal with your partner’s family, mother-in-law, and strange Uncle Carl, but the sacrifice is worth it when you consider that having a steady partner is a great benefit. Besides, they’ve never been able to convict Carnal Carl of anything even though he looks like Tom the Peeper.
In this partnering mode you don’t have to worry about feeding yourself, cleaning the house, or going on annoying blind dates. Constant whoopee happens by itself on a schedule from the gods. In the beginning of a long-term relationship there is blissful agile romping with the help of Cupid (actually it is something akin to chipmunk-paced interludes that are obscured by the fact that both people are usually drunk). Then substantial time passes, and you come to realize that you’re never alone. Even bathroom time is a challenge when you share space! Read the rest of this article »

In the era of high economic uncertainty, there is one product that is head and shoulders above the others in the “more for the money” category. Dental floss is a bargain! The top-of-the-line high-quality floss is $3.98 for 100 yards of the stuff. Better yet, you can get good-quality generic floss for less than $2 for the same quantity. That works out to less than 2 cents per twelve inches. Try and find that price when looking for a foot-long hotdog or hoagie!

The days of penny candy may be gone but penny floss (which also sounds like the name of an innocent school girl, or a bad rendition of a misquoted Beatles song) is a product whose time has come! Dentists who have captured every source of the tooth decay market have overlooked this one golden nugget. Read the rest of this article »

Aside from the regular cackling heard during “girl’s night out” regarding this column’s title, the axiom’s validity can now be heard on the lips of disgruntled grocery store patrons everywhere.

Let’s clarify what we’re shopping for here. There needs to be some “bulk” in the supermarket products we buy, or our price-per-pound will seem like lopsided chicanery has grasped our food supply.

For instance, check out the half-gallon of Edy’s Ice Cream, and you might find that it has suffered the spell of a head-shrinking witchdoctor. It looks as cylindrical in its usual creamy-good packaging, but in reality the company has shrunk that sucker enough to fool the hasty five-items-or-less-aisle customer.
Read the rest of this article »

The powers that be could vote to change America’s car fleet fuel system at any time. In order to switch from dead dinosaur-goo-powered propulsion to water- or air-driven engines to save the planet from the Abominable Global-Warming Monster, all Congress has to do is wave its petroleum-soaked wand.

Abracadabra! We could change into a gluttonous sweet-toothed, sugar-cane-driven nation to fuel our cars. Read the rest of this article »