Another godawful year of the shittiest decade in living memory has finally come to an end, and that can only mean one thing: it’s time for a new New Year’s Resolution involving my trusty pair of Icelandic necropants! Because if there’s one thing I’ve actually truly and honestly enjoyed and appreciated about the 2020s, it’s this flayed skin of a dead man’s lower half. I’m still wearing them since I can’t take them off, but that doesn’t matter because they’re totally awesome. My favorite thing about them is the scrotum which magically gives me free money, but also the entire experience of wearing necropants is good for mental health. Basically, 1000 times more effective than therapy. But as with all things avant garde, the masses just don’t appreciate them.
Which is why during 2025 I attempted to educate people about the wondrous effects of wearing necropants. Despite this altruistic motive and my sincerest efforts at being friendly, most people were not happy when I approached them and started talking about the necropants. They tended to just ignore me. Someone called the police on me. One guy even tried to punch me, but I’ve gotten to be very quick and nimble in these necropants thanks to all the undesirable encounters I’ve experienced with dogs over the years. Needless to say, I didn’t even try to educate any dog-walkers.
But despite my extreme failure at educating the masses, I still maintain that the necropants are excellent for one’s emotional well-being. Everyone likes talking about “self-care” these days, and there is nothing better for self-care than donning a pair of necropants. They do wonders for regular people, and I also seriously believe that they would do wonders even for society’s most deranged individuals. Take Elon Musk, for example. I have no doubts in my mind that once he had a pair of necropants on, he’d stop being such a hateful, raging maniac. Somebody might have to eventually intervene in order to force him to stop fondling the money-producing scrotum so vigorously lest it accidentally be ripped off, but you know, that’s a minor detail.
Anyway, so much for altruism. This year I’m going back to more selfish motivations for my New Year’s Resolution and focusing on the one thing that really makes the world go round: money. I really love the free money I receive from my necropants, but it’s gotten more challenging to use the scrote-coins (as I like to call them) in an increasingly cashless world. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve ordered an overpriced coffee and groped at the leathery coin-purse to pull out the requisite number of scrote-coins only to have the barista then be a total snob and tell me, “Oh, sorry, we don’t take cash here.”
It’s just like, what the fuck?
So this year my New Year’s Resolution to digitize the magical money-producing properties of my Icelandic necropants. How will I do this? I don’t know yet, but I have a year to figure it out. If you can pay for things by tapping a phone or a watch to a screen, then you should be able to pay for things by tapping a dead man’s magical scrotum to a screen, too.
If I can figure this out, it’s really going to open up new worlds of possibilities for me. Well, maybe not quite that, but it will make many aspects of life more convenient. It’s just a lot easier to gyrate the hips to get the scrotum to go where you want it go than it is to poke and prod at it repeatedly for scrote-coins. Never again will the people behind me in line get all agitated as they wait while I fumble around for scrote-coin after scrote-coin just to pay for my groceries. Instead, I’ll just arc my back and swing my digitized coin-purse at the payment screen and be on my way.
I think this new feature will come in handy not only at grocery stores, but basically literally everywhere that allows for or insists on contactless payment options, which is most places. Bookstores and record shops? Done. Bars and restaurants? Start the tab. Public transit ticketing machines and turnstiles? You better believe it. Maybe I’ll even be able to figure out a way to set up the magic scrotum to autopay some of my regular monthly bills. The sky’s the limit.
Plus, unlike tappable credit cards or phones or watches, I won’t ever have to worry about losing my digital payment device since human anatomy means that it’s integrally attached to my necropants, which I can’t take off anyway. It’s what we call a win-win. I already can’t wait to tap my special, new digitized coin-purse on the payment screen at my favorite coffee shop and ask how the barista likes them apples.
