Nonsensical shoes

They walk among us. On the streets, in our schools, under our desks. They are slippery shoes, and they cannot be trusted.

Don't be fooled by the stylish design. Or well-turned ankle. Or dying plant.

Don’t be fooled by the stylish design. Or well-turned ankle. Or the dying plant.

Twice this week my dress shoes have tried to kill me. Unprovoked. It’s not like I was purposely scuffing them up or taunting them: “Hey, stupid shoes, think you can stay tied for more than an hour today? Or maybe I should invest in Velcro. No wait: loafers. Ahh, go back in the box you came from.”

I wasn’t prying them off my feet by pressing down on the heel of one shoe with the toe of the other. I never do that. I hate to pry. I believe this strongly; I have pryer convictions.

No, I am always respectful of my dress shoes, no matter what their colour. I treat them just like any other footwear. What two brogues get up to in the closet is none of my business. But when they’re out in public, I expect them to put one foot in front of the other, you know what I mean? I’m not shoe-ist or anything. I just think shoes should know their place, namely on my feet.

So there I was, walking from one office building to another. Fine, I was rushing. If you want a precise description, I was “prancing,” but it’s not my masculinity that’s on trial here!

As I turned and stepped onto the snow, one of my shoes, without warning, simply slid out from under me. I may have let out a high-pitched squeal, but again that’s not the issue here.

Luckily, I caught myself, but imagine what might have happened if I hadn’t. I might have hit my head. I might have suffered brain damage and ended up spending my days writing inane commentary of no significance or, worse, running for public office. I might have broken my leg. I might have gotten my bum wet.

The same thing happened a few days later, only this time I was walking down the steps. Okay, “skipping.” There, I said it. Happy?

My point is that dress shoes are dangerous and unpredictable. You can never truly know what’s going on in a shoe’s sole. “Talk to me, shoe,” you’ll beg. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? No? The new puppy then?”

And yet, in a situation laced with irony, there are no instruction manuals for these inscrutable shoes explaining how they behave in relation to gravity and human kinetics. No one even explains what “human kinetics” is, and I sure wish someone would because that sounds like a made-up thing to me.

Where are the warnings on my wingtips? Shouldn’t manufacturers be obliged to caution consumers that their soles were not designed to grip on ice, snow, satin sheets, bowling alley lanes, etc.? Can I drink hot beverages out of my shoes? Who knows? It doesn’t say.

“Why not change into your boots before you go outside?” you suggest. Oh sure, blame the victim. Like I was asking for it. Like I purposely oiled the soles of my shoes so I could claim workman’s compensation and sit at home writing my novel (working title: Gabardine, My Gabardine!)Besides, I don’t have time to change footwear. I am a busy prancing man!

And it’s not just men’s dress shoes. Last fall, Self magazine ran an article entitled “Flip Flops May Cause a Staggering Amount of Car Accidents.” That’s right: wearing sandals while driving may possibly be linked to accidents. Not just accidents but a staggering amount of accidents. Or they may not. The evidence is fairly anecdotal. But that’s not the point! You know what does have a point? High heels. Dangerous, sharply taloned high heels with no standardized regulations for highness or heeliness.

Why are these potentially dangerous shoes allowed to run roughshod over public safety? When is our government finally going to support registering shoes on a national shoe tree? How much longer are we going to stand idly by, tapping our feet, while the powerful shoe lobby plays footsie with politicians? Where will this shoe sham lead us? And who tracked dirt into the house, because your mother is going to be pissed.

It’s time to put our foot down and take steps to ensure that these high-risk shoes no longer walk all over us. Please stand up with me (carefully) and shout to the world, “My shoes stink!”


About rossmurray1

I'm Canadian so I pronounce it "Aboot." No, I don't! I don't know any Canadian who says "aboot." Damnable lies! But I do know this Canadian is all about humour (with a U) and satire. Come by. I don't bite, or as we Canadians say, "beet."
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43 Responses to Nonsensical shoes

  1. markbialczak says:

    I do remember a holiday post about socks, Ross. Now, shoes. I am starting to believe that you have a footwear fetish …

  2. lostalreadyinmy20s says:

    “I am a busy prancing man!” Best line ever

  3. pinklightsabre says:

    Pryer convictions. You are shameless Murray! Shameless!

  4. Paul says:

    At the risk of insulting your righteous indignation concerning footwear, is that a spider plant in the background of your fabulous dress shoe picture? My Mum had spider plants when I was young – they were one of the few plants she was able to nuture with her decidedly un-green thumb. They are the fighters of the plant wolrd – very plain and unglorious and yet able to endured great hardships while forging continually onwards. Never letting their owners down. My point would be that if you chose your footwear with the same eye to robustness and productivity as you chose your spider plant, we wouldn’t be sitting here reading your whining complaints about functional footwear failure while you worship at the feet of the capricious gods of fashion footwear. Buck up, man! Take control of your footwear, don’t let it control you! Carry-on!

  5. bboyallen says:

    hahahahaha I’m seeing my shoes totally different now! :O

  6. I am crying with laughter! You bring up such a good point! And the part about the flip flops made me burst out laughing!-Ashley

  7. peachyteachy says:

    The soles of shoes should not hold as a personal goal the hope of becoming a curling court. Or whatever curling joints are called. I figure you will know, because Canada and everything. Is it possible that your shoes and that plant got a little too close and have hatched a plot? At any rate, I support your prancing and skipping and I hope that your footwear never forces that entertainment to stop.

  8. El Guapo says:

    The puns in this made me cry many Agggs!
    Well…smaller then that.
    Aglets, maybe.
    (Google it.)

  9. Re: ‘pryer convictions.’ Long way to go for a pun, my friend. Along with the whole “put our foot down, take steps,” etc. Shecky Greene called. He wants his act back.

    What size is that puppy? Is that pic photoshopped? Big shoes, big…oh…I forgot. You don’t work blue.

  10. Letizia says:

    Prancing, squealing, and skipping: what I wouldn’t give to watch you walk down the street, Ross!

  11. ksbeth says:

    stamp out killer footwear!

  12. List of X says:

    This is typical male shoe-vinist talk, Ross. Let’s not forget how we oppress the shoes, how we drag them through mud and dirt, how we buy them in a store like things, how we discard them when we tire of them, how we are ok with two shoes being a couple only when they are both the same type and color – but a white sneaker and a brown dress shoe together – oh, no, such travesty! We even frown upon two same shoes of the same orientation – it always has to be one left and one right shoe in a couple, the way their maker intended it! We don’t treat them like human beings – but they still have feelings, even if their skin looks thick (especially of the winter ones).
    Shoes are not robots, Ross. We must forgive them if they make a mistake, and we must respect them for the hard work they do.

  13. cat9984 says:

    Just one more sign that we were all intended to live somewhere warm enough to go barefoot all the time.

  14. Nic says:

    OMG this post had me cracking up. “So there I was, walking from one office building to another. Fine, I was rushing. If you want a precise description, I was “prancing,” but it’s not my masculinity that’s on trial here!

    As I turned and stepped onto the snow, one of my shoes, without warning, simply slid out from under me. I may have let out a high-pitched squeal, but again that’s not the issue here.”

    THIS is why I fell before my brother’s wedding. Fucking dress shoes. The devil.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      I just went back to that post to see if perhaps I had subconsciously ripped you off. Whew! No. But then I read this: “I pranced into the reception to En Vogue…”
      Clearly you are my muse.

      • Nic says:

        Ha! I mean, there is one, and ONLY one, way to convey the act of prancing. But yeah, no, my fall was less because of the asshole shoes themselves and more because I was running in the rain.. like an asshole, I suppose.

  15. dinahmow says:

    I came across the border from my friend’s blog(Exile on Pain Street), out of curiosity and I find, somewhat to my surprise, an English-speaking Quebecer ( Quebeceur?).And one who also writes about the slipperiness of footwear.I may have to visit more often.

  16. nobsj says:

    Preach. I knew everyone in my 5th grade gym class had to be wrong when they said my velcro grippy sneakers made me worthy of stoning.

  17. benzeknees says:

    The woes I have suffered at the hands of shoes! Like a triquetrium expulsion fracture of my right hand when I slipped on some ice! And I was wearing sensible shoes with some grip on the bottom.

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