Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, March 30, 1992                   TAG: 9203290006
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: 
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

IF SOMEONE SAYS YOUR BRITCHES ARE SPLIT, LET'S HOPE THEY ARE

I think all of us should have grown out of this day and those horrible jokes.

I mean, there is some evidence to suggest that people don't pay a lot of attention to Friday the 13th or St. Swithin's Day anymore.

We can do the same thing to April Fool's Day if we'll take a solemn oath to ignore it this year.

Let's all pull together and make April Fool's Day just like any other day or at least more acceptable, like Arbor Day.

You ever hear some clown telling his buddy his britches have split up the back on Arbor Day? No. You go out and do great things on Arbor Day, like planting trees.

Instead of being unfeeling and tacky on April 1, we could do some really great things, too, like, well, planting trees.

I know that some of you who follow the contemporary political scene in this country are giggling at what we're trying to do here.

You're saying that the practice of representative government makes every day April Fool's Day.

The republic is not very stable these days, and I'd have to agree that there's a lot of low comedy going on.

I would hope, however, that none of you would go up to a presidential candidate and say: "Boy, that takes nerve. I see your bimbo's standing right there behind you with your wife. And, besides that, did you know your britches are split right up the back?"

If you'll think about it, you'll realize that April Fool's Day is for thudballs and malletheads.

And you won't drop by your Aunt Zelda's and say: "My God, Aunt Zelda, look at your hair! The henna rinse went crazy that time, didn't it?"

If you do, I hope she hits you sharply with that trashy oriental back scratcher you gave her for Christmas and cuts you out of her will.

I have to be truthful and admit that my distaste for April Fool's Day goes back to childhood and the cousin who beat me up 365 days of the year.

On April 1, he would wait until I was within a few feet of Amelia, the little girl who went home for a fresh pinafore at lunch recess, and pull that old gag about the split britches.

To this day, I have this daily lingering suspicion that my britches are split right up the back and people are too kind to tell me.

I've done all I can do. I would hope that you won't go home and ask your wife: "Oooooooooo! What's that big spider doing on your neck?"

If you do, I hope she breaks your upper body permanently.