Brace Yerselves

The Wifey, who first saw this shot, remarked, and I quote, "Yikes! Those should not be put next to each other."

I have also determined, on reflection, that the amount of text I have above (and below) is not quite enough to keep the image from popping up (at least partially) in your browser. So, in the interest of full disclosure, or witness protection, or some such thing, I now present some meaningless blather. BLAH BLAH DE BLAH BLAH, TOWZOOOO YOWZOOO, DE-LA-DE-LA-DE-DA, VVVVRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOT! EESPAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Ready? Back to the text:

Which, point taken. And not that I would go out of the house thusly shod. But, in point of fact, a short time ago, and then again about twenty minutes later, this is precisely how I was shod:

'Cause, see, I wanted these new Tigers, so I had to try one on, just for the sake of form, never mind that I already knew from experience that the Tigers in size 11 would fit my feet like nobody's business. So for a fleeting moment (actually about 45 seconds) I was wearing one Onitsuku Tiger (in white on black with green stripes and yellow and red mid-sole foam layers) and one classic style Nike Oregon Waffle (in black on red nylon, which one of my bosses recently dubbed "Devil Shoes").

It was a significantly weird feeling. The Tigers in question are a re-issue of a model originally produced in 1981, but they are still palpably heavier than the Nikes. They also have a slightly more solid support platform-- thus the greater weight-- than the Nikes, which have all the support of a freshly cooked pancake. (Which is why I like them.) It all makes perfect sense in retrospect, but, still, it was really kind of weird.

This makes 12 pairs of shoes in my collection, an even dozen. If anybody asks, one day I'll post a picture of the entire arsenal.