Chris' Razor

The warm weather has finally come to northern Maine.  That means, of course, that we have replaced the runners on our dogsleds with wheels and put air conditioners in the windows of our igloos.  And, it's also the time of year to apply what I call "Chris' Summer Razor".  It was principle first verbalized by me about 20 years ago, and, sadly, every summer it seems to have proven itself to be true.

This razor, which I also considered calling "Chris' Theorum of Summer", "Chris' Law of Summer" and "Chris' View of the Way It Always Seems To Be Every Damn Summer" is as follows: "The people one would least like to see in scantily clad in warm weather are the ones most likely to be." It's uncanny.

This principle of truth first came to me in a college classroom.  I was taking an early evening family sociology class one summer.  It was held in a classroom with many windows overlooking a busy thoroughfare in the town in which I was living.  The class, needless to say, was less than gripping, but I needed to get it under my belt in order to graduate on time.  As the professor droned on and on, my attention drifted out the window to the sidewalk outside, where a number of people were passing by, enjoying a rather warm summer evening.  (Aww, hell...it was HOT.  Who am I kidding?  And the classroom had no AC.)  Now maybe I was a little resentful of them, since they were out there making the most of a nice night while I was in the academic equivalent of Dachau, but I couldn't help noticing that many were walking around shirtless, in biker shorts, or in other states of less than fully-clothedness.  (The shirtless were all men I believe, though the boob situation for some might make one wonder.)

Almost to a person, the people who I would least want to see scantily-clad were the ones who were.  The 300-lb woman with greasy hair and cigarette-brand tattoos?  Belly shirt and short-shorts.  Her significant other, the pale, scrawny dude with the Fu Manchu mustache and the kind of smile that only meth can give you?  No shirt, skin-tight Levis.  Meanwhile, Miss Tall, Blonde and Ravishing?  Long-sleeved OP t-shirt, windpants and a sun hat.  It's as if I was sitting there mentally voting on who should be allowed to let it all hang out, and then the opposite occurred.

I snapped out of my reverie when the instructor made mention of Occam's Razor, a principle which states that we should tend towards simpler theories until we can trade some simplicity for increased explanatory power.  (I only know this today through the power of Google.)  It led my ever-wandering mind to develop a principle based on my observations out the window.  "Chris' Razor" was hatched, and I think it was the only thing to come out of that class that I have actually used in real life.


Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I am not exactly George Clooney myself.  Far from it.  I'm no ogre either, but I could stand to lose a few pounds and tone up the rest of them.  That said, I do not go out in public wearing six square inches of clothing.  An appropriately-sized t-shirt and a pair of baggy cargo shorts are about as light as my summerwear gets.  I have given my friends permission to shoot me in the kneecaps without fear of prosecution if I am ever seen on a public street with my current physique sans shirt.


So, if your idea of a healthy breakfast is a dozen donuts and a bottle of Mountain Dew, then good for you.  If you are occasionally mistaken for actor Steve Buschemi of Boardwalk Empire fame, who am I to pass judgement?  However, for those of us who need to look at you throughout the day, do us a favor: cover up for Pete's sake!