who never changed his socks?

fandango wrote: Moogtron III wrote: I know. That's another resolution for 2006. Be glad that PA is only specialized in sights and sounds I had a saying as a teenager, which has served me very well ever since... "It's time to change your socks, when you can throw them at the wall and they stick"

A friend of mine did that last week with the pasta he was boiling. "When you throw it against the wall, and it sticks against it, it's well-cooked." And that's exactly what he did, bon appetit  .

People who have read this thread this far in good health must have a strong stomach   

If you recognize my avatar, you can tell that my alter ego never changes any of his clothes  . About the changing of socks: how low can you go: literally?

Never changing your socks is sort of an outlaws' dream, as you can see in Country Dick Montana's lyrics from The Big Sock Candy Mountains (by country rock group The Beat Farmers):

Big Sock Candy Mountains

One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning
Down the track came a hobo hiking, and he said "boys I'm not turning
"I'm headed for a land that's far away, beside the crystal fountains
"So come with me, we'll go and see the Big Sock Candy Mountains"

In the Big Sock Candy Mountains there's a land that's fair and bright
Where the hand-outs grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars all are empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees
The lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Sock Candy Mountains

In the Big Sock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall, the wind don't blow
In the Big Sock Candy Mountains

In the Big Sock Candy Mountains you never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey, too
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoo
In the Big Sock Candy Mountains

In the Big Sock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short-handled shovels, no axes, saws or picks
I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Sock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this comin' fall in the Big Sock Candy Mountains