Before you judge a man — any man, or woman as we think of it, with the exception of station house attorney Oliver Wendell Douglas and his endearing, malapropping missus, the Hungarian goddess Eva Gabor — endeavor to walk a mile in his or her shoes. ‘Twill be slow going, but you’ll gain an appreciation for the superiority of your own footgear — police-issue, in the case of Yours Truly Dooley®, as are my undergarments, trousers, jacket and head/helmet wear. After traversing said distance, you will have gained proper authority to pass judgment on the other Citizen BiPed®. By all means, register your opinion firmly, decrying his or her evident lack of fashion sense, unflinchingly. Question the size and color of his shoes, the height of the heels and quality of internal archway support. Cast aspersions upon the route he or she travels and, while you're at it, assess the mobile foot implements of their family members. Be emboldened to state your opinions bluntly, as you have bloody well walked the agreed-upon mileage!
