Thursday, June 26, 2003

Blackies

It’s great that I get so many catalogues every freaking day.  They’re slick and slippery and give me exciting dexterity challenges when they try to slither out of my grip as I drag my tired butt up two flights of stairs after a long day mining plutonium for the State Bar.  I try to shuffle the catalogues from hand to sweaty hand to find the critical “way overdue sucker” notices from my cable provider or priest, jammed deep in the least interesting pages of the least interesting catalogues (such as those which feature nothing but sheets and towels)( for real).  As the catalogues skip and scamper in my trembling grip, I also get to drop my diskman, stub my toe, and catch the strap of my bag on the corner of the bannister.  On average, we get 2 to 3 catalogues every day, not counting duplicates.  We are a recycling-friendly household.

I was thumbing through one of these crappy catalogues recently when I saw an item that seemed poorly named, though I’d been using that name for quite a long time myself without self-examination.  Khakis are pants, right?  Actually, no - and I knew that, too.  It’s an urdu word that entered our benevolent language in around 1855 during the salad days of the British involvement with Pakistani and Indian matters ("colonialism" is such a loaded word).  My Oxford Universal Dictionary therefore defines “khaki” as “dust-colored, dull brownish yellow.” By 1863 the word had been converted to a nominal form, referring to clothes made of such material: since the British Army could not possibly keep its white uniforms properly colorless in the filth of their occupation, they just made clothing to match the dust stains that would invariably form on whatever they were wearing. 

So: today I will be wearing khakis - dust-colored tan pants.  It’s gonna be hot, and I’ll dress the part.  (These are flattering and comfortable trousers.) However, many of the catalogues being maliciously delivered to my house these days are offering “khakis” in colors.  You can get blue khakis, black khakis, olive drab and hempforest green.  BUT THEY’RE NOT KHAKIS.  They are “pants.” Or “trousers.” Maybe “enclosed bifurcated conjoined leggings.” To call them khakis when they’re not khaki is like calling that green thing in the front of the classroom where the teacher writes with chalk a “blackboard.” Or to name that show “Entertainment Tonight” when it’s really “late-afternoon pabulum.” It just doesn’t fit.  Unlike my pants.  Because the pants are dusty yellow.  See how that works?

I don’t have a solution to this problem.  I just like to complain.  However, in the interest of giving people something to do with their mouse-clicking fingers other than the obvious, here’s a link to a really good shop that will send you a catalogue if you ask for one that’s worth the effort to bring it up from the mailbox.  Go with god.  See what kind of catalogues he gets.