The Snuggie: Cultwear, or the fedora for our decade?

When you hear that there's a Snuggie bar-crawl organized via Facebook, you have one of three responses:

1. Facebook is an insatiable time-suck, and if you wanted to be "poked" you'd dress up like the Pillsbury Doughboy, so no, you don't care.

2. "Facebook" and "Snuggie" sound like words that pertain to the parts of the Internet that do not involve forwarding a joke to your kids with the message line fwd: fwd:fwd: re: re: funny! and so you want nothing to do with it.

3. Really? Where does it start, and when?

For everyone else, let's drop back a bit. First: Snuggies. They're blankets with sleeves. Thanks to infomercials, they're wildly popular and apparently can be enjoyed both ironically and non-ironically.

Who can argue with the sheer genius of the idea? It's like pants with salsa-dip trays! Their advocates say they are the last word in comfortable loungewear.

I think they look like robes from an unsuccessful religion that filed Chapter 7, but I bought the Big City Slider after Billy Mays yelled its virtues in a late-night ad, so what do I know?

Or so it seems.

I've never had a problem with a blanket that kept my hands from achieving their objectives. Must -- change -- channel -- but -- quilt -- exerting -- force -- field.

But when you're laid off, it's not good to wear loose clothing. Oh, the first few weeks it's a joy: no more tight bogus Establishment Trousers cinching the gut, no more noose around the neck. Freedom! Now I'll write that novel!

But there's a direct, scientifically proven correlation between elastic waistbands and productivity. No one who's wearing a Snuggie at noon will get a job until the economy is booming so hard they're putting Help Wanted signs in premature infant wards.

A Snuggie bar-crawl, on the other hand -- the one that's pushing up the other sleeve because it keeps sliding down and wicking up your drink -- is a different matter. You cannot blame the clubs for trying anything. Recession is one thing -- West Bank bars are looking at the loss of the Twins crowd next year and planning ahead.

It might work; come summer next year, the West Bank could look like it's filled with extras from an old Roman movie, and everyone will want to wander around in backward-bathrobes.

But this is not the sort of recession-reaction future generations will admire. I've watched a lot of 1930s movies. The guys have suits with creases you could use to cut cold salami, and they have hats.

The other day I saw a fellow with his baseball cap turned sideways, perhaps to shield his left ear from the power of the sun, and it was almost a relief -- finally, the youth of America is exhausting all possible hat alignments, and may yet orient the bill in the traditional fashion in my lifetime. It's like watching a Cagney movie where he mashes the hat upside down as a fashion statement. Wouldn't happen.

The bars might want to take a cue from the Great Depression, and make the next one a Fabulous Depression. Look sharp, not like slumped beasts hiding under a sheet of cloth. I'm not saying I'd go to the events -- I have a kid, and have long passed the desire to stand in loud clubs and grow throat polyps shouting over music I hate.

I'm saving that for the Billy Mays Infomercial Pub-Crawl, which takes place next week. SO ACT NOW AND GET THESE PANTS MADE OUT OF SHAMWOW!