I do know that is going to be robust for lots of you to listen to, however I don’t give a shit about pockets. A coat ought to have pockets, for chilly arms, however pockets on a costume are as helpful to me as an electrical can opener. Besides that an electrical can opener will enhance in usefulness as I get older and my joints deteriorate and I yearn increasingly more for delicate peas. A pocket on a costume is a droopy, drape-ruining cotton-poly scrotum at any age.
I imply, pockets on a costume are nice if you must carry one fingernail clipping. Pockets on a costume are nice in case you’re dwelling that two-dimensional tesseract life and want to move a line. Lastly! I don’t have to hold a handbag once I go to the faerie market to commerce this daisy for a hummingbird’s kiss! Ultimately, transportable storage for my single purple acetate fortune-telling fish.
However put a pockets and keys and live performance tickets and a lipstick in there—i.e., the issues that will make a pocket helpful—and, congrats, you’ve grown two nice clonking thigh cysts, a feast for thieves.
I can’t depend the variety of occasions I’ve been drawn into the outdated dance, each components: somebody compliments my costume, and I announce, “It has pockets!” as if “pockets” have been German for “a time machine to go give Mitch McConnell’s dad a condom.” Or, I praise another person’s costume, am knowledgeable of pockets, and squeal like Mitch McConnell’s dad dooming the way forward for humanity with one squirt. I take part; I’m complicit. However it is a post-#MeToo society, that is Worldwide 12 months of the Lady (is it? I don’t know), that is my time, down right here, and I don’t care to do it anymore.
“Thanks—it has pockets!!!!!!”
“Sure, I can see that, as you seem like you’ve gotten chunky Mr. Tumnus hocks underneath there.”
Pockets in a costume are so Zooey Deschanel can all the time have a crystal close by. Pockets in a costume are simply in case Maggie Gyllenhaal finds a four-leaf clover. Pockets in a costume are for child lady who’s greatest fwiends with a bee and want one sugared violet for dinner in case she get wost chasing dandelion fuzz. That needs to be a distinct segment market at greatest, not a foundational trope of womanhood.
The female directive to like pockets is an inexpensive simulacrum of gender solidarity the place none actually exists. They’re used to distract us from harnessing our actual energy and I, for one, am now not prepared to be within the pocket of Large Pocket! Brag to me about your pockets once they’re FILLED WITH UNION PAMPHLETS AND FREE TAMPONS FOR THE HOMELESS.