Silly, there's no basement at the Alamo!

The title of this post has nothing to do with the post itself, the quote from Pee Wee's Big Adventure just popped into my head this morning on my commute into work and it's been rattling around in there ever since.

Because I am once again uninspired to create literary brilliance here (smiling at my own wit and self deprecation) I am going to do what I do best. Rant. Today's topic is a foot fashion nightmare that I simply can't abide and feel it must be stopped at all cost. That would be abomination that is called the Croc. I've seen people wearing these things everywhere and cannot understand why otherwise intelligence adults are clunking around in gardening shoes in public (you would expect an attraction to the bright colors and goofiness from kids, so they are excused from the rant). They wear them at work even. And on vacation (I saw a couple in matchy-matchy slime green ones in Key West and all I could wonder was how they made it to a vacation destination straight out of their gardens). It is reported that they are extremely comfortable and I have no problem with things that make one feel good, I just don't understand why comfort has to be so damn butt-ugly and chunky. The mind trust behind this silly footwear fad must surely like to chuckle at other people's misfortune, because wearing these shoes are the embarrassment equivalent of tripping over a piece of gravel on a crowded public street holding a now-spilled latte. And wearing dumb shoes to boot.

So here is my plea! Throw away those ridiculous looking shoes immediately! Or adopt a plot in a community garden. Or get used to me pointing and laughing at you, because let's face it, you look down right silly. And yes, even in a lovely shade of puce.