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Let ‘er rip

I don’t know how much longer y’all are gonna be reading my column. As much as I enjoy writing this cerebral compilation of prophetic prose, I have stumbled into a new career that will undoubtedly earn me a boatload of money. And after watching several episodes of Shark Tank, I don’t know if I will have time to sit out on my deck, sipping cold beer and pondering over topics for future columns.

I recently heard on the radio that a pair of Gucci jeans with grass stains are selling for pert near $900, and stained bib overalls are fetching well over $1,000. I don’t know much about this Gucci fella, but I personally have a closet full of stained Wrangler jeans. Some pants have grass stains on the knees while others have stains from grass that has been chemically altered in the rumen of a Hereford cow. I have one pair of Wranglers with purple stains from squished persimmons and berries off cedar trees, and there are some pants sporting stains that will require DNA testing to determine the source and authenticity.

I see lots of people, mostly womenfolk, who wear jeans that look like they were tossed in the washer with a spool of barbed wire. Their britches have more holes than the golf course a cross-eyed drunk is playing on. And, you know what’s crazy? These folks, most of ‘em educated and employed, bought those raggedy jeans with holes already in them. Oh, they weren’t bought at a yard sale or thrift store but at some fancy retail store. And here’s the kicker: Those ripped up jeans cost more than new, intact jeans at Tractor Supply.

So, this Gucci fella, an Italian fashion designer, has discovered Americans with more money than brains will buy anything with his name printed on it. I don’t know who started this fad of ripped britches, but Gucci is making a fortune on wealthy Americans who want to look poor.

Back when I was a kid, if I got a hole in the knees of my pants, my mother would iron a patch over the rip. And I’m sure all my jeans had stains of some sort. Plus, my mom would buy jeans about a foot too long so I wouldn’t outgrow ‘em. Yep, in all my school pictures, I was wearing rolled-up faded jeans with a dark blue knee patch.

As I got older and bought my own clothes, I made sure they were well-made and had the proper fit. Since I was all done with my growth spurts, my jeans would last a year or two, depending on how often I got snagged by barbed wire or mesquite branches. Most of my jeans have a small rip, often accompanied by a blood stain, but not once have I been approached by some gal who says, “I like your jeans. Are they Gucci?”

So, here’s what I’m thinking. I already have about a dozen pairs of jeans, most with holes and assorted stains. If some Italian designer who doesn’t know the difference between barbed wire and a coat hangar can sell his britches for $900, then I should get at least $600 for mine. If I were to buy a new pair of Wranglers for $20, put ‘em on and go wrestle some steer and mend some fences, those jeans should increase in value with every hole and grass stain. And I could smear some axle grease on them for an extra $10.

Yep, you’ll be seeing my jeans in all the fancy big city boutiques. I reckon I could write my name on them like Gucci does with a Sharpie, and I won’t wash off the manure. That way folks will know they’re buying authentic western wear and not some knock-off brand. Yup, I’ll be a millionaire in no time.

I am a bit concerned that I won’t have time to sit and ponder out on the Crow’s Nest since I’ll be too busy counting all my money. I kinda enjoy sitting around doing nothing but drinking beer, and being a successful fashion designer might put a damper on my current lifestyle. Hmm? Maybe you will see a few more columns after all.

We’re all sure that Clint Younts will be storing all of his extra money in his mattress. Not that it’s going to be enough to make that mattress lumpy.

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