I've discovered the dirty truth about pants.

In preperation for the coming cold, I decided to try on some of my old pants. To my displeasure, they were tight in areas that weren't tight before.

How could this be? I don't weigh any more than I did last winter. If anything, I'm slimmer. I've got pictures to prove it.

I sat and pondered my shrinking pants problem when it came to me-- we live in the age of technology. Of artificial intelligence. Computer chips and binary code. Robots and prgrammable recorders.

With all of this technology, pants makers have found a way to make pants shrink.

Think about it. If you pants stayed the same and you stayed the same, a classic pair of pants could last you for years. This is economic suicide. If people aren't restocking on pants every 6-12 months, then commerce would come to a rusty hault.

No one would buy pants so no one would make pants.

No one would make pants so less cloth would be sold.

If less cloth is sold, less raw materials would be harvested.

With less raw materials harvested, some farmers wouldn't be able to sell crops.

If farmers couldn't sell crops, they wouldn't be in the fields.

If farmers weren't in the fields, they wouldn't be wearing out their pants. And if they don't wear out their pants ... GASP! Full circle.

Of course, the greedy pants makers are only thinking of themselves. They just want to make you feel like your ass is ever-growing so you have to keep recovering it.

I have proof of the shrinking pants theory.

I've an old pair of jeans. About two years old. They're now too tight. I bought a new pair or pants, same brand as the old one and same size. They fit perfectly.

Now, you might be thinking that I've washed these pants and dried them so they've shrunk. NO! This is impossible. They've never been put into a washing machine or a dryer. There is no way they've shrunk. If anything, they should be slightly stretched out.

The only explanation is that something was done to them when they were pieced together in that dark Chinese factory. Something sinister. Something ... shrinky.

I'm going to find the man* behind this and I'm going to stop him. Once and for all.

It might take days. It might take months. It might take some coffee. But this guy will pay; oh yes, he'll pay. After all, he can afford it. I've been giving him hundreds of dollars every year since high school.

*Oh, you know it was a man. He probably has a curly mustache, too. Asshole.