Death to flip-flops and long live the closed-toe!

Sometimes if you listen closely, you can hear them off in the distance. It starts off as a low rumbling and then before you know it you’re enveloped in what sounds like a herd of horses clip-clopping along. Clip clop, clip clop. It’s almost like the sound of that heart beating in Edgar Allen Poe’s The Telltale Heart. However, as the sound gets closer you’ll realize it’s not a clip-clopping, but a flip-flopping that’s hurting your ears. Sounds more like a herd of sheep to me.
This is the sound of what is in essence a cheap rubber sandal. Too bad they’re not those Ho Chi Mihn Slippers the Vietcong used to wear during the Vietnam War. Made from old automobile tires, those things were both durable and allowed the wearer to sneak up on a platoon to within ten paces. There was no flip-flopping to be heard. This is not the case at UM where every other person wears flip-flops. Not that I’m an authority on fashion, but come on people – a little imagination in your footwear, please!
The annoying noise they make is one thing, but then there’s also another matter – foot stank. It is a little known fact that flip-flops are the top number one transmutation platform for foot stank. In addition, an even lesser known fact is that the Geneva Convention of 1919 outlawed foot stank, classifying it as a form of chemical warfare. It’s true, look it up. So you see, I’m writing this appeal from a public health standpoint. This may save your life someday! And then there are those people using a cell phone while flip-flopping. Two annoying noises for the price of 350 Anytime Minutes; what a bargain!
I would be remiss if I did not also mention the predilection for many to adorn their bottom in what can only be described as ‘Butt Floss.’ I can see the point of wearing this for aesthetic purposes during, shall we say, a specific activity, but not while walking around so that it’s practically climbing up one’s back. It looks like something’s trying to escape from a pair of pants (and I thought that was only a guy’s problem). Unless of course the purpose is similar to the plume of feathers on a peacock – to attract a mate. Love me, love my floss? Eeek.

Scott Wacholtz is a senior majoring in Political Science. He can be reached at aramis1642@hotmail.com

February 25, 2003


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