If you ever need to find a way to empathize with a person that you have never met before, all you have to do is remember one thing. They have probably had wet socks before. Everybody, from The Pope to Charles Manson, has had this experience. The only people that have not felt this cannot afford or own socks. In this case, they probably have more to worry about than just wet socks.
Walking around in wet socks is nauseating. I have a theory that when socks become wet, they cease to become cotton and turn into cold oatmeal. You can feel the squelch with each step. In the realm of human experience, wet socks rank 2nd only to a chafed asshole on the list of Most Unpleasant Daily Human Sensations. The worst part of getting wet socks is the moment just before it sets in. The sick lurch in your body when your foot disappears into a puddle that you thought was only an inch deep.
Even though I live in the desert, where rain is still considered a mythical phenomena that requires attention and worship, I am always in fear of having to squelch my way home. Because of this, I rarely wear socks. Do we really need them anyway? Our great west-trekking ancestors could stand a little foot odor, so can we!