POCKET PROPAGANDA

                  

                  Look around you.  You see them?  Most of them are completely empty, yet they still manage to stay close to your heart.  What’s worse is half the time you have no recognition of them.  They could be staring you in the face. 

      Shirt pockets.  Chances are, if you’re like me, you forget they’re even there.  Most of the time they just lie against your chest camouflaged by same color fabric or obscured by patterns or plaid.  It seems they use us as hosts more than we use them for storage space. 

                  The only valid, regular use for a shirt pocket seems to be reserved for the soft pack.  It’s the only application I’ve witnessed on a large scale.  When I was a child my father would only buy shirts with pockets for that sole reason.  Any other shirts were returned to the store in a matter of days—my father’s only motivation to get out into the realm of retail.  Shirt pockets were essential to his Zen, his aura, his self-portrayal.  Whatever it was, it had his pocket prescribed to a pack a day for 40 years.

                  But without cigarettes to store, what other use is there for this pectoral plague?

                  The only instance in my life in which I remember actually using the shirt pocket was when someone at a party had given me a Loritab.  Grinning, I stealthily stashed it in my shirt pocket for later ingestion.  Of course, being stoned to the bone and two 40’s deep, I forgot the little pill was in my pocket so the benefit of its magic was, much to my chagrin, shared amongst the washing machine and the critters of the Murfreesboro city sewer system. 

                  Upon further pondering of the shirt pocket, I discovered the fashion industry’s attempt at drawing attention to this practically unsettled territory.  Shirt pockets have been garnished with a number of accessories from zippers to embroidery, all to dazzle and entice—to instill pocket pride.  Solid color shirts have been given different color pockets in order to make them more noticeable:  a navy blue shirt with a red pocket—the spicy sauce that attempts to make the pocket palatable. 

                  Yet, after many unsuccessful attempts to draw one’s eye to the pocket, many shirt pockets still remain vacant.  The shirt pocket just isn’t prime pocket real estate.  The real interest is in pant pockets.  That’s where the money is.

                  The pant pocket needs no introduction.  It is essentially the Mecca of all things miniature.  Every single pocket sewn into my pants is used at least once during my daily life.  I rely on my pockets to provide convenience as well as comply with the laws of fashion.  The pant pocket dwarfs Coca-Cola in terms of classicism. It requires little dressing up and is generally accepted throughout the world.

                  These pockets don’t need us.  We need them. You can’t turn your back on them as pants without pockets only prove to be of the ilk of inconvenience.

                  Pant pockets have become so de reguir that their absence seems almost offensive.  Think about the last time you saw a girl wearing jeans with no back pockets.  It’s revoltingly lubricious, even for an ass man.

                  Pant pockets are a staple in both the fashion industry and the consumer/retail industry.   A respectable pants manufacturer can’t release a pair of pants without pockets, and somewhere there is another manufacturer waiting to fill those pockets with whatever product they see fitting.

                  AN EMPTY POCKET IS A POCKET FULL OF POTENTIAL.

                  Companies have been battling over that plot of pocket space for quite some time.  The crusades for pocket possession have existed for over 20 years.  The genesis of this pocket-sized manifest destiny began around 1989 with the introduction of Polly Pocket, a miniature doll accompanied by a number of other choking hazards all encased in a diminutive dollhouse which made playtime accessible almost anywhere and at any time.

                  Three years later, the same manufacturer released Mighty Max, a veritable Pauly Short (sorry), meant to appeal to boys.  The product was a hit because every other boy had a snake, skull, spider, or shark awkwardly protruding from his pockets.

                  The next four years were relatively quiet, but in 1997 everything changed.

                  A jeans company from L.A. augmented the landscape for pocket warfare.  They were called Jnco, and at the time they fucking ruled.  The jeans featured the back pocket cousin of the five-gallon hat—pockets stretching from the ass the calf.

                  The size-increase proved necessary because less than a year later Pokémon (pocket monsters) was unleashed onto American children.  The “gotta catch em’ all” mantra was “super effective,” and many deep pockets were filled with Gameboys, Pokémon Blue and Red, a Pokédex, and whatever other Pokémerch that could possibly be carried.

                  Pocket possession isn’t just aimed at children though.  The tactics for adult pocket takeover are more subliminal, wielding music as a weapon of choice.

                  In 1997, just as Jnco began expanding, Notorious B.I.G., Puff Daddy, and Ma$e released the song “Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems.”  One problem with having loads of cash is not having enough pocket space to keep it in.  Hence having more money = more problems.

                  Those that prevailed from the pocket crisis of ’97 are probably some of the men referenced in Destiny’s Child’s hit song, “Jumpin’, Jumpin’,” released in 2000.  The girls sing, “The club is full of ballas, and they pockets full grown.”  Unparalleled pocket personification.

                  I believe that the pocket reference in the song instills false hope in males.  It suggests that if their pockets do indeed “grow” (not to sound porcine, but for the sake of alliteration) that they will be up to their pockets in pussy.  This of course isn’t true at all, which is why many males abandoned the idea of bigger pockets and attempted to get closer to women by wearing their jeans.

                  Over time the big pants/big pockets trend continued while the alternative tight pants/smaller pockets trend gained momentum.  These days, pants are made so slim fitting that whatever is contained within them is practically on display by way of fabric cast.  This constricting second skin hearkens back to the spandex of the hair metal era except there aren’t any women gawking at naughty bits; they’re just trying to determine what’s in your pocket—which as Dwight Yoakam foretold in his hit “a Thousand Miles from Nowhere,” is nothing but heartache.