Underwear is the thin, erotic layer separating fantasy from urine, semen, sweat and feces.
O, holy underwear! Guardian of our dreams, treasurer of our lusts. Its uses are as varied as its styles. But don't take my word for it. Ask a person who wears underwear!
Relaxation - A popular relaxation technique is to imagine the audience in their underwear. The only way I'm able to complete this article is by picturing each and every single one of you clad in comically tiny hearts with a matching peach bra...good lord, there are thousands of you gentlemen.
Okay, that's not going to work. Instead, I'll picture one of nature's most beautiful algorithms, the phenomenon in which each set of underwear worn by Jennifer Love Hewitt contains even more underwear-clad Jennifers Love Hewitt.
Behold! The modern Nautilus
Concealing your sin - Look, it's not news that our genitals are an affront to God and His spokesmen. That's the magical miracle of underwear: you can repress your sexual longing under as many layers as you want! The record is 17 pairs donned by an ice-delivery man in the 1920s who accidentally saw a woman's shoulder.
What sort of deviant would get turned on by this?
Wedgies - This is handiest method for establishing the social order. Do you have any idea how long it would take to get to know and respect each other as persons? You do? Nerd. Get him!
Feeling pretty beneath Rush Limbaugh's business suit - I don't want to assert that Rush Limbaugh is actually an 86-year-old woman trapped in several fat men's bodies without evidence, so here's a picture of his apartment, which you may recognize as belonging to all of your unwed great-aunts.
And he didn't have the decency to get hooked on straight-up smack
If he had flopped out of his mother's womb 150 years ago, he would have spent half his life trying to stop pitiful Dickensian protagonists from marrying well. The only times Rush Limbaugh isn't wearing women's underwear are when his misogyny and self-loathing are fighting over whose turn it is to suck a cigar.
Choking your victim - Here's a scenario we're all familiar with: your orgasm subsists and you need someone to blame as self-loathing floods you. Who better than the mewling, battered husk pinned beneath you? After all, if he hadn't been so...so damn SULTRY, just sitting there in his priestly vestments JUST LIKE A WHORE DOES, the voices in your head wouldn't have commanded tuna fish boxcar emperor to kill make it stopmakeitstopMAKEITSTOP.
Ah, a refreshing return to sanity
The Cracked audience cleaves neatly, so let's address the larger portion first.
MEN WHO HAVE NEVER TOUCHED A WOMAN
These are the articles of clothing worn by a man, or by you.
Wife-beater - Everyone who wears one is a dirty fighter. Count on it.
Boxers - You are a man. Good job being YOU!
Briefs - You are a man playing a sport today, or an adorable woman dancing in her living room.
Boxer-briefs - You are a bisexual from the future.
He hasn't been the same since the Burger King Kids' Club disbanded in that alternate timeline
Breechcloths - You are the strong, silent type, unfrozen by science after 10,000 years of cryogenic slumber. You've found your place in this strange world with a typical suburban family, but can they teach your heart to love? Find out this fall in The Caveman Next Door, only on CBS!
Thong - Men who wear thongs hate everyone. Watch:
See? Straight or gay, man or woman, right now you're in pain
WOMEN PRETENDING TO BE MEN TO AVOID HARASSMENT
Women's underwear accounts for nearly half of the remaining $30 in the U.S. economy. But did you know most underwear is 10% cotton, 70% spiderwebs, and 20% faerie wishes? You probably didn't know that because it is a lie. In fact, underwear is made out of 99% edible material, assuming your lover is a moth. The 1% impurity is the tears of Thai sweatshop orphans.
Some of the more popular ladies' lingerie lines are:
Panties - Also known as knickers, pants, Angela Lansburys, the old sail tarp, a rum bit o'lovely, and the only thing keeping men from happiness. They come in a number of varieties, and the only thing they say about you is that your skirt is prepared for a strong gust of wind. They do serve as an excellent distraction. Look closer at that picture and see what details you missed the first time:
It's almost a shame to unwrap it
Thongs - Look out, here it comes again!
No, no! This was supposed to be a woman!
Oh boy, bras! - Many people like bras because they support, emphasize and stabilize the breasts. Other people feel differently and are no fun at parties. Even though bras don't really do anything by themselves, they're well-regarded by association.
A fun thing do is burn a bra, but not while you're wearing it, by God. And certainly not the bacon bra, which should be cooked to no more than a pink, chewy crispness.
But let's be honest -- this destroys both gluttony and lust
But for a regular bra, it's as simple as removing it and...wait. Actually, you're good right there.
Petticoat - You are a Jane Austen character. You enjoy picking flowers, writing letters, and rough play.
But that would be ill-mannered
Camisole - To be honest, I thought this was some kind of rain coat. I won't know for sure until I've sniffed at least a dozen of them.
Vajazzling - It doesn't really count as underwear; I just wish fresh hells on whoever devised it.
Corset - This is to uncomfortable bras what Megalodon is to sharks who only kill things lighter than cars. They're made of whale bone, so right there: wow, what a jerk thing to invent. Their primary purpose is preventing a woman from exhaling her opinion.
The training is complete when she inflicts it on the youth of her own free will
Diamond bra - In the picture below, Molly Sims is wearing a bra that retails for $30 million. Think about how much money that is. If Donald Trump and the Pope scraped all the gold paint off every wall in their empires, they'd still have to go dutch on this piece and fight over who gets to wear the bottom.
If only a comedy writer would take her away from all this
Besides, Miss Sims is a professional; she makes looking good look good. She could appear in commercials for forced sterilization, and we'd at least hear her out. This two-piece, if ever purchased, will only bedeck some leathery Real Housewife of a county with the same economic distribution as Zaire: the kind of woman who thinks she has a real job because she sells homemade soap to her friends. It will be purchased for her by an unloving husband with two mistresses, three ulcers, and a yacht christened The Phoebus.
Plainly, the only people who can afford this bikini are our new overlords at Goldman Sachs who paid for it with our money. And rest assured, that's the only kind of person who'd want one in the first place. Because anyone who'd buy a $30 million piece of lingerie doesn't even know what they want; they're just stealing to steal. They should be beaten to death with bags of money. They should be traded to Yemeni warlords for child soldiers. They should be forced to drink liquid gold.
But we're not allowed to do that to them no matter what they do to us. So instead, just wedgie every banking executive you see.