This week, fair reader, I shall attack an issue close to my heart. But in place of my normal rant, I will present to you a monologue similar in style to that which Camus employed in The Fall.
"I say, you there! Yes you, sir. Your dogged tennis shoes, frayed denim trousers, and mussed hair signal to me that you're but a step above homeless. Are you in need of financial assistance? A bite of food? Speak up, lad, I can't hear you. You write for Pork Pony? You're on your way to work? They don't fire you for wearing this to the office?
"Oh, child! How naive you are. Come, son, follow me and I shall impart you with a knowledge that will transform you from the boyish amateur scribe you are into a well-dressed, well-organized professional MAN of letters.
"Ah, the stench of processed meat. Don't slip on the vegetable oil Julio has spilt upon this red tile floor. Where are we? Oh, poor boy, we're in MacDonalds, the bastion of America's sickest eating habits, the trough from which all of these stinky farm animals our country calls citizens eat. Does it not disgust you? I certainly shall require a touch of the post-visit Pepto. Cover your nose and look around you, son. Although we are in one of the basest dens of swine around, there is something to be said for the restaurant's employees. They may be a bit dull - mentally, that is - but they possess a professional and clean appearance that elevates them above the common slobs who are their patrons.
"Fresh air. I can breath again. You want to know where I'm taking you next? It's just over here, across the street, next to that man with the shopping cart. Oh, he does smell acrid. Ack! Don't get too close! It's that money-grubbing, filthy creature Dave Barry. He was once a well-respected writer (a hack columnist, in my opinion),loved by many. But the way he dressed had much to be desired. Sloppy, unkempt, half-shaven. No one can take him seriously. You see him now, here, destitute. Here's a dollar, Barry. Goodwill has some decent suits and it's half-price day.
"Come inside, don't trip on those novels Barry's peddling. This, dear boy, is where a professional finds his attire - a quality men's clothing store. Look around at the suits. Blue and Black. A pinstripe here and there. Classy. Respected by one and all. I suggest you bring the staff of Pork Pony here. The lot of you could browse the store, be measured, and choose a common uniform. Think about it. Uniform. Unity. No more scraggly T-shirts and torn jeans. All will arrive at work sparkling like the morning dew on grass. Patrons and visitors will gasp in awe at the transformation. Who knows, maybe you'll even get some intelligent people to read your work.
"Go! Fly away, lad and speak the words of Stuart Gimble to your colleagues. Here's one of my cravats. Show them this and they'll buy into the idea for certain."