Last week, I received an email from an online clothing company. The email said they had a sale on "tops." For men. Tops. I ignored it. The clothier in question was obviously aiming for the skinny-jeans crowd — young guys who like irony and wear those tight suits that bunch up if you do anything besides stand up straight.

Not a big deal, tops, but I like language and I watch how it moves and to me, a top, is what my wife brings home from the mall.

"Look," she says happily, holding up a sequined piece of trickery. "I bought this cute top in Macy's."

"Honey," I say, a week later. "Can I use the debit card? I need a coupla new dress shirts."

Men wear shirts. Women wear tops. All my life. Surely, I figured, this one use of the word "top" was just a New Yorkish fashion aberration

Until I went to the Wal-Mart. In the middle of the store, beyond the racks of chocolate chip cookies, but before you get to the 24-packs of toilet paper, there was a wall of men's t-shirts, most of them cheerfully emblazoned with the logo of the Boston Red Sox. (I live in Massachusetts.)

And the sign over the t-shirts said "MENS TOPS." The irony-and-skinny-suit crowd doesn't hang out in the Wal-Mart too much, so I guess this whole "tops" thing is becoming current at all price points.

It's hard to believe that even one of the guys I hang out with is going to walk into the Wal-Mart and ask a sales associate, "Where are the tops?"

I've seen some pretty good fist fights in the parking lot of that Wal-Mart, so I think the use of the word "tops," to describe menswear does not diminish testosterone, although, to be fair, I have to mention that quite a few of those fist fights were between women of the pajama bottom-wearing urban variety.

It's reasonable to think I'm making too much out of this, but all language means something. For instance, I knew gay marriage was on its way the first time I heard a convicted felon biker friend of mine say, "I work with a gay guy."

So maybe, the "tops" thing is an attack on maleness, the way "Happy Holidays," is supposed to be an attack on Christmas, Christians and Jesus himself. If I get my used to buying something called a "top," the Trilateral Commission thinks, maybe I'll subtly become less male, stop watching boxing, stop smoking cigars and eventually accept rule by one world government run by women and sexually wobbly men.

I need to buy some guns. Wal-Mart sells guns. They're just to the right of the tops, and I think I better get down there fast.

To find out more about Marc Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com.

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