Dear boys who buckle the top strap on their backpacks,
Listen up (and don’t buckle up): you–galavanting around with your top backpack strap buckled like your the hottest rock-climbing instructor on two legs–look completely ridiculous and it is completely unnecessary. Do not even try to justify this to me. I have anticipated all of your objections and answered them in kind. Starting from the top:
- But it helps distribute the weight more evenly!
I’m sorry, Parker, are you going on a 5-9 day expedition up Kilimanjaro? Are you carrying a tent, a sleeping bag, and clean water for the entire journey?
Oh no? Oh, you’re just going to your macroeconomics section at 10:30? And you’ve nothing in your backpack but a 13” mac with touch bar and a black hydro-flask? Yeah, I thought so. Check yourself. You look like a bright-eyed bushy-tailed boy scout who’s weirdly proud to be the troop leader’s son. Like a computer-generated average of everyone who thinks that driving your mom’s old minivan is “gay” but does it anyway because you can’t afford your own car. You look like a child.
You can bet your Synchilla snap fleece that when Atlas carried the world on his shoulders, even he had too much pride to wear a nipple-high strap.
- But it keeps my backpack from falling off!
Pardon me, Connor, but exactly what hazards do you expect to face walking from said microeconomics section to Chem 330? Falling rocks and sudden mudslides? Rushing rivers and icy streams?
Oh, nothing more vigorous than a handshake-back-clap combo form one of the boys? As I anticipated. Look in the mirror. Look at your Sperry’s with Bombas underneath. Your life is the pinnacle of comfort and ease. You look like an L.L. Bean ad that turned into a real boy. You look like the middle spot in a Venn Diagram that has “people who hold up fish in their tinder profile” on one end and “people that listen to podcasts” on the other. You look like a tool.
I can tell you from a fact that when the Israelites left slavery in Egypt to head to the promised land they didn’t secure their belongings to their camels or whatever with half as much care.
- But I want to show off my pecs!
Lend me an ear, countryman Spencer. Just because you want to show off your pecs does not mean that the world wants to see them. You look like someone who puts protein powder in his cocaine. You look like someone who knows exactly what percent body fat he has and will tell the cashier at Whole Foods what it is to the third decimal place. You look like the kind of guy who dabs at a funeral. You look like a walking joke.
I’ll wager as much money as you did during the Super Bowl that when Narcissus looked upon himself reflected in the Grecian waters, even he didn’t find it necessary to use a backpack chest-strap as a flattering little push-up bra in reverse.
In summary:
Buckling the chest strap on your backpack while walking around an elite college campus is buffoonery to the highest degree and I categorically refuse to answer to anyone that does so. Check yourself, check your backpack, and check your priorities. You look like a goon and a half.
Note: If you are not a man and/or have back problems and/or do not own a single half zip you are not the intended recipient of this letter, but tread lightly and know that you walk on thin ice.
Kisses,
The Rib