Funny: A Few Good Men . . . in kilts

[Cirthalion]

Others may have had this episode rerun in their own lives, but today was the day for me. My brother and I are huge film buffs. Today he was snooping around for Christmas gift ideas for me. Here, slightly fictionalized, is the conversation that ensued.


Brother: Did you order yourself a kilt for Christmas?

Me: That’s none of your business.

Brother: Did you order a kilt?

Me: I said, that’s none of your business.

Brother: Why do you wear kilts anyway?

Me: You know why.

Brother: I want answers.

Me: You want answers?

Brother: I think I’m entitled to them.

Me: You want answers?

Brother: I want the truth.

Me: You can’t handle the truth! Bro, we live in a world where most men wear pants. But their right not to has to be defended by men in kilts. Who’s gonna do that? You? Dad? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for my pants and you question my kilts. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that my not wearing pants, while tragic, probably defends rights, and my kilts, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, probably defends rights. You don’t want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me in that kilt. You need me in that kilt.

We use words like sporran, flashes, tartan. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a shopping list. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who wants to buy me kilts and then questions why I wear them. I’d rather you just said thank you, and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you strap on a kilt and drink a pint. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you’re entitled to!

Brother: Did you order a kilt?

Me: I do what I have to.

Brother: Did you order a kilt??

Me: You’re goddamn right I did!


-- Cirthalion