The belt is an important piece of man's array of everyday-wear inventory. An homage to the outdoors and simpler times. It's the last piece of animal a man can wear without looking like Crocodile Dundee. It is a statement of purpose. The belt makes the poor pant button redundant and pitiful. It's where the scabbard and sword are hung, the holster and pistol, and the chipotle burrito. The past is preserved in scratches, stains, and a ragged hole you can't reach anymore. Yes, a man's belt is a silent watchman. A trusty companion. An emergency tourniquet. A terror for demons. A time keeper. A snug friend. Men, wear your belts proud. Do them no harm. Pour out a beer, and keep the belt another year.