by Jon Greenbaum

I’d been clomping along on surfaces of the planet for 47 years and hadn’t ever really had any decent slippers to cushion the blow.  Previously, we were living on one measly income (mine) until the second daughter got launched into Kindergarten. I spent about about a dozen years in a pair of slip on shoes with blown out backs. But the kids have grown, enabling us to fire up on two incomes and poke our noses above the middle class.

So, last year, I asked for the moon- a pair of NICE slippers. I’m not sure I understand the finer details of the Christmas backstory but last year there was a pair of damn fine Sorrel slippers under the tree. Not sure if I thank Jesus or Santa.

These slippers are looking at a one year anniversary with me in a few weeks but I’m starting to get concerned. The smell wafting up from my feet has reached critical mass. I guess it’s leather from a cow but it definitely smells like a wolf got the best of some sheep and left it out in the rain for a week. That’s what I’m dragging around on my feet while I’m supposedly recharging my batteries in my castle after a hard day at work.

Today I applied a cloud of Gold Bond to the sheep carcass masquerading as my slippers. Will it “control foot odor and odor-causing bacteria“?pTRU1-5427012dt

The Gold Bond company is this odd enterprise. Kinda frozen in amber. The commercials are so insanely straightforward and insulated from irony. Their retro senior citizen appeal, though, verges on hucksterism. There is something very snake oil about it all.

Let the experiment begin.

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