THE BROCKHOEFT REPORT
Vol. 1 Issue XIII ........ Federal Prison, Ashland ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Y'all ought to know by now that I carry eccentricity as far as a fellow can carry
it without being an actual crack-pot. The leftists who read this probably think I've
carried it even further.
To prove my point, I have a confession to make. I don't put my pants on the way
other men do. I'm not saying my way is better, just different. Actually, though, I
do believe my way is better. At least it has to be faster, easier, and more convenient.
Judge for yourself.
That my habit is odd came as a startling revelation many years ago as a young
Navy man. Another sailor was downplaying the significance of high-ranking
commissioned officers You know, the ones with scrambled eggs on their hat visors.
He said: "Hey, they put their pants on the same way we do )) one leg at a time."
I said: "Huh?"
"Yeah, that's right," he repeated, "they put their pants on the same as other men ))
one leg at a time."
I kept my mouth shut, but I'd never heard this before. At first I thought it was the
other sailor who was the oddball. But soon I heard it from another source. I
overheard my CPO talking about the old man of the ship: "He puts his pants on
the same way all men do )) one leg at a time."
Again, I remained silent. Not long after, I went home on leave for the holidays.
The night before I was to return to my duty station, I stayed up late with Pa.
President Richard Nixon came on the news. Pa commented: "He puts his pants
on the same as other men )) one leg at a time."
That settled it. If Pa said it, it must be right. So I cried out: "Pa, Pa!
How come you never told me that when I was a boy?"
"What are you talking about?" Pa replied, "I didn't even know who
Richard Nixon was when you were a boy."
I said no more, but resolved to try it in the morning. It was my first and
last attempt. I'll never do it again. Here's what I do: when I wake up I sit
on the edge of my bed, take my pants by the waist, draw my legs back,
and shoot both into my trousers at the same time.
I lay awake for awhile that night wondering: why would other men put their
pants on one leg at a time? Wouldn't it be harder that way? They must do it
in a standing position. If they were sitting down, it wouldn't make sense to insert
one leg and then the other!"
So I got up the next morning, grabbed my dress blues and stood up to test
the concept. My folks would be taking me to the airport that morning. I was flying
standby at half-price, and in those days the airlines required servicemen to
wear their uniforms to get the half-price fare.
The Navy's enlisted men's dress blue uniform trousers were designed before the
zipper was invented; but the Navy, being long on tradition, has never changed them.
So those trousers are closed up in front with fifteen buttons, but the Navy only
officially recognizes thirteen of them. If you think I'm kidding, go to your phone book
and look up and call the U.S. Navy recruiter in your city. Ask him: "How many
buttons are on the enlisted men's dress blue uniform trousers?"
"Thirteen," he will answer. I guarantee you won't find a U.S. Navy recruiter
anywhere who will say those trousers do not have thirteen buttons. We were trained in
boot camp to believe those pants only had thirteen buttons. I was the only sailor
in the U.S. Navy to say they really had fifteen buttons, but I waited until after boot
camp to say it.
So when the recruiter tells you those pants have thirteen buttons, then say to him:
"Yes, but if I come down to your office and we sit down and count those buttons
together, how many will there be?"
"Fifteen," he'll admit, "but the Navy officially recognizes only thirteen of them.
These are thirteen-button trousers."
So I got up that morning and tried it. In the standing position, I inserted my left leg.
So far, no problem. With the left leg clothed up to my mid-thigh, I lifted my right
foot and got it through the opening and a little way down the pants leg. At that point,
being totally inexperienced in this procedure, and not being the most graceful,
coordinated fellow, I started to lose my balance. But my right foot was stuck in the
pants, so I started hop-scotching around the bedroom on one leg in an attempt to
regain my equilibrium until I hopped back onto one of my kid brother's roller skates.
At that point I flew against the wall, jarring loose a framed picture which then
fell, knocking me in the head. Mom called through the wall: "What's going on in
there? Are you all right? What are you doing?"
"Just putting my pants on like all other men do," I answered, "one leg at a time."
* * * *
Click for Letter 14 of the Brockhoeft Report.
Back to John Brockhoeft Select Page
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Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed:
for in the image of God made he man.
Numbers 35:33 So ye shall not pollute the land wherein ye are:
for blood it defileth the land: and the land cannot be cleansed of the
blood that is shed therein, but by the blood of him that shed it.