They are so close we can almost touch them.
I speak, of course, of Ziggy’s pants.
Presenting (cue trumpets)…
Like the shining Ark of the Covenant, there they are.
Not buried in some Egyptian tomb, but lost by a dry cleaner.
Will the dimunitive man put them on tomorrow? Or won’t he?
It the most anticipated moment in popular culture since the O.J. Simpson verdict.
All brought about by one small rodent who led a revolution.
I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that this is the proudest moment in the history of “Pearls Before Swine.”
A moment where my work — lo, my art — changed the world.
While some make it their life’s work to free a people, save a species, or protect a planet, I made it mine to force a bald midget to cover his twig and berries.
And now I and a group of anthropomorphic animals willing to starve themselves for the greater good, stand on the precipice of something great. And like Ronald Reagan’s challenge to Mikhail Gorbachev (“Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall”), I now say in a moment of even greater import:
“Mr. Wilson, wear now those pants.”