A few years ago I had some friends over for St. Patrick’s Day; I cooked corned beef and cabbage and we drank a lot of beer. Eventually, the Irish mirth boiled over, my inhibitions diminished to a nonexistent level, and I launched into an impromptu session of invective acoustic singing-songwriting. My muse, er target, that evening was the dreaded cankle. I don’t think I ever came up with any verse material, and just droned around the simple chord progression F#m, A, E, singing, “canky cankles, canky cankles, canky cankles, oh she’s got shankles.” Nonsensical? Perhaps. Catchy? Goddamn right. (I may have some archival footage of me singing the song on my old, broken Sony video camera. If I find it, I’ll put it up sometime soon.)
Anyhow, a friend who was there the night I wrote “Canky” forwarded me an absolutely dubious story this morning that the Wall Street Journal is currently running about guess what? Cankles! Never would I have expected the at times conservative bastion of financial news–the WSJ–to run a story about women and fat ankles. Then again, they did post a story a few weeks ago about the great scourge of skinny jeans. And much to their discredit, interviewed about 1 Williamsburg hipster and drew all sorts of wild conclusions from his fatuous comments. Whatever. All in all, they did a decent job with this cankles primer featured below. Takeaway: Cankles are genetic misfortune. Unless you’re especially adept with a hatchet, or willing to undergo some kind of fat-removal procedure, it looks like canklers are stuck with their latent, evolutionary vestiges of the centaur.
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