Woody: Try on chicken POO pants

By LARRY WOODY

The latest fad from Yuppieville is jeans adorned with fake mud, available at Nordstrom for a mere $425.

That seems like a lot to pay for a pair of pants. Apparently the price of mud has gone up.

Fake-mud jeans are the goofiest thing I've heard of since, well, since the craze over pre-torn jeans.

First they came out with pre-faded jeans to make them look old and worn, but that wasn't good enough - or bad enough -- so next brand-new jeans with the knees ripped into tatters.

As a kid, when the knees of our britches wore out we threw them away. Now they come worn out direct from the factory.

At a recent Country Music Awards show half the "stars" wore ragged, knee-tattered jeans that looked like they'd been pilfered from a dumpster. I couldn't believe their mothers would let them appear in public dressed like that. But there they were - millionaire entertainers parading around on stage dressed like street derelicts.

I remember when shabby was shameful. Now they relish their rags.

There's nothing wrong with worn, dirty clothing if it got that way honestly, through hard labor.

The problem with the ragged Yuppies is the labor is not honest. They're faking it.

The country music millionaires and assorted other ragged rich didn't wear the knees out of their jeans, or get them smeared with mud, through physical toil. They wouldn't know real work if it jumped up and bit them.

All they know about "Dirty Jobs" is that it was a TV reality show.

That's what caused the backlash again Nordstrom and its faux-mud fancy-pants: it's an affront to authentic working folks. I compare it to the sleaze-ball who struts around wearing combat ribbons and medals and pretending to be a war hero, when in reality he spent his tour of duty as a desk jockey at Ford Ord.

We're told that some affluent young people wear ragged jeans as a statement against the bourgeois. That's just great - their parents work hard to be able to buy their kids good clothes, and the spoiled brats show their disdain by wearing rags.

Understand, being poor and ragged is nothing to be ashamed of. Many of us have been there at some point in our lives. But faking being poor and ragged just to make some sort of goofy social statement is absurd.

Only in America can you see a millionaire in faded, tattered jeans hop into a limo. Do they realize how silly they look?

As I've followed the fake-muddy pants fad, a thought occurred to me: growing up in the country, one of my summer jobs was catching chickens at local poultry farms. We'd enter the huge chicken houses at night when the birds were roosting, snatch them up, and load them into crates for a road trip to Colonel Sanders.

Once you snatched a few, the other 10,000 pullets would panic and start flapping and squawking. Soon the air would be thick with dust, feathers and certain other unpleasant effluvia for which excited, frightened chickens are noted. Before long you'd be covered in it.

If Yuppies really want to get in touch with their inner-working man, forget those fake-mud jeans and try Understand, being poor and ragged is nothing to be ashamed of. Many point in our lives. But faking being poor and ragged just to make some sort of goofy social statement is absurd.

Only in America can you see a millionaire in faded, tattered jeans hop into a limo. Do they realize how silly they look?

As I've followed the fake-muddy pants fad, a thought occurred to me: growing up in the country, one of my summer jobs was catching chickens at local poultry farms. We'd enter the huge chicken houses at night when the birds were roosting, snatch them up, and load them into crates for a road trip to Colonel Sanders.

Once you snatched a few, the other 10,000 pullets would panic and start flapping and squawking. Soon the air would be thick with dust, feathers and certain other unpleasant effluvia for which excited, frightened chickens are noted. Before long you'd be covered in it.

If Yuppies really want to get in touch with their inner-working man, forget those fake-mud jeans and try my new marketing venture on for size: Chicken-Poo Pants. Available soon at Nordstrom's for $500 a pair.

I'll throw in the feathers for free. my new marketing venture on for size: Chicken-Poo Pants. Available soon at Nordstrom's for $500 a pair.