Of having the right gear: cargo shorts, anacyclosis and the truth according to Popol Vuh

A man wearing his shorts. Proudly.

Wearing cargo shorts has become a shameful, shameful thing. So has voting for the wrong thing, whether it’s to leave or stay, Goldman Sachs or the Beelzebub or treehuggers or the Nazis.

Who’d have thunk it, but cargo shorts and the end of democracy are actually comparable things. Nancy Drew, get your magnifying glass out and let’s investigate!

Traveling pants

As a working traveler I enjoy the fruits of globalisation and the vast amount pockets in my cargo shorts to the maxxx.

Look, I can put my Italian sunglasses in one pocket, my Chinese-made, California-designed, space gray iPhone in another one. The green Burton wallet from Burlington, Vermont goes front-right with my keys; pickpockets, take notes. I refuse to use my back pockets; don’t like sitting on things. And I still have one pocket left for a water bottle! Moroccan heat. Oh, the thirst!

It wouldn’t surprise me if the people who do not wear cargo shorts think that the people who do, would be on the nationalist side of things, because cargo shorts equal handyman, handyman equals blue collar, blue collar equals nationalist, you know, I don’t know, who knows. Stereotypes.

Fashion is cyclical, I keep convincing myself and so does the people trying to predict trends. Cargo shorts will surely come back as soon as they disappear from the shelves.

Fashion is also globalised. My cargo shorts are from H&M; for European adults, by Asian children. Terrible. I should quit going there. Actually, everyone should quit going there. But it’s not going to happen. Because those who benefit the most from the low, low prices brought to you by globalisation; are the masses. You know, the cargo-shorts-wearing, blue collar nationalists eating their own tail as they are losing their jobs to slaves.

Eat the rich

But someone needs to blamed for all this.

It’s the elite. It’s always the elite. Who knows what the elite is or who belongs in it, but it’s the elite. For thousands of years it’s been the elite. Always picking us little people, trying to steal our last money with their products made by slaves and hiking their taxes just to tease us. Elite. Bah!

And so begins the last stage of anacyclosis; ochlocracy, the perversion of democracy, in which the liars have incited the general populace against the elite, whatever that is. Worried about Trump, Turkey, Brexit or coalition of European idiot parties? Don’t panic. This cycle has been going on for thousands of years. It always ends like this.

Democracy has come to it’s end, but only to be born again.

For me the elite right now is the fashion industry, as they are denying my right to wear cargo shorts in public.

As a digital nomad I demand that the fashion industry creates us a uniform, essentially a one giant pocket to wear. Laptop, charger, camera, USB stick, hotspot, pens, notebook, another charger, phone, smokes, water bottle, tissues, hand sanitiser. Those all need to go in it.

What comes around

Fashion goes in cycles, political systems go in cycles and you know what else goes in cycles?

That’s right, the Mayan calendar.

B’ak’tun glyph, as coloured by me.

According to Popol Vuh, the world was created three times before the gods were satisfied with it and let the humans inhabit it. The previous worlds had some problems of animals not having the gift of speech, mud men having no soul and wooden men having no intellect. These worlds were destroyed at the end of the 13th b’ak’tun or 20 katuns of the Mayan long count calendar. As the 14th b’ak’tun of this cycle has already started, the gods must be satisfied with this place and us mortals with our soulful, intellectual yapping living here, I will keep on wearing my goddamn cargo shorts.

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