What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
Editor’s Note: This article is a collaborative effort between Dubsism’s own J-Dub and Ryan Meehan from First Order Historians. Ryan also has his own blog, East End Philadelphia, which is featured in our BlogRoll and it is well worth the read.
Introduction By Ryan Meehan:
Far be it from me to boast about my vast knowledge from fashion. I’ve looked frumpy almost my whole life, wearing T-shirts inside out and whatever is easiest to slide on my feet without me having to bend over. I wear socks with clods, my shorts and pants are never ironed properly because I am terrified of fire. Since I haven’t been able to convince that part of my brain that an iron won’t get hotter after you unplug it, I have been the target of mockery from other individuals in this area for many years. To those people I would just like to say the following things:
1) “YOLO” Shirts
For those of you who are lucky enough to never have run across this saying on a shirt, “YOLO” is an acronym for “You Only Live Once”. This pisses me off for several reasons, but the most important of those reasons is that it’s just a shitty slogan for a tennis shoe company. It’s not somebody who’s been given 5 years to live and really has to weigh each decision carefully only to eventually say “You Only Live Once!” and then decide that base jumping is the way to spend the last years of your life, only to not be paying attention to the parachute part of the training course.
The phrase “YOLO” was made famous by Canadian rapper Drake, who no one should ever take seriously as a hip-hop artist because he rose to fame on a Nickelodeon TV show. It was used in a song featuring Lil’ Wayne entitled “The Motto”, which does sort of make sense seeing as how LW’s face is covered in tattoos and even in the afterlife it would be hard to find a job with all of that artwork. Most recently, several shoe companies (Adidas) in particular are marketing shirts that bear the phrase and praise it’s aimless message of “Do anything you want and live life with reckless abandon and no care for others at all”. The only problem is, that wouldn’t fit on a T-shirt so they just ripped said acronym from said rap song and now America is full of young white kids with their hats tilted sideways (and we’ll get to that later) who are going to be driving home wearing a blindfold and might end up T-boning your new car. And even worse, if you do what you are supposed to do in that situation YOU’RE going to be the one charged with battery. It’s a very cruel and sad world we live in.
“You Only Live Once” is a stupid statement that is nothing more than just another excuse for young people to not wear condoms. And because they live the YOLO lifestyle and don’t choose to use latex to help preserve our already plummeting literacy rates, they are adding more mouths to feed for the generation that will follow. And because the deck was clearly stacked against them from a genetic standpoint, those kids will go out and buy shirts that say something similar and do things that are equally stupid. It’s a perfect example of how overpopulation is creating a whole lot of people who are guests on the Maury Povich show and have no plans to become architects. We are in some serious trouble here.
Another thing here – I don’t normally stand up for Hindu rights, but isn’t this extremely offensive to people who believe in reincarnation? I would hate for a young Hindu person to get in some terrible accident and one of the last things they remember be someone wearing a shirt that breaks the news to them about how they’ll never really be a cow. Of course the irony here is a Hindu person would never be caught dead in something like this, because they are very smart and all of those calls about redeeming credit card miles aren’t going to answer themselves.
Before this, I had no idea what “YOLO” even meant. From the first line of what he wrote, I knew this was pure, uncut bullshit. A Canadian Rapper? That’s like Bigfoot or a black guy with a job. Only sketchy evidence to support the existence of any of those things, but this “YOLO” shit really exists. And we are all worse of for it.
That’s really why I agreed to this. For those of you who normally read this blog, you know I primarily stick to sports. But this stuff is so important because we are not only are we creating a nation full of slack-jaws, through their clothing choices, they are willing to advertise that they barely have the IQs to find their own asses with both hands.
Like I told Meehan when he proposed this idea, I am probably old enough to be his father and it would take some work to bring my wardrobe up to “boring.” Not to mention, I don’t really use hashtags on Twitter; I need all 140 characters for my crabby old man rants. Face it, in the neighborhood of cyber-space, I am that guy who cuts up Nerf balls that land in his yards and gets a lot of flaming bags of dogshit on his front step. I mean, who the fuck even calls it “cyber-space” anymore? I do, and so do the other four swelled-prostate geezers who still use CompuServe…that’s who.
Anyway, at first I thought this was another one of Meehan’s “I had 14 vodka tonics” keyboard fuck-ups, but then I looked it up. It turns out it is an acronym for “You Only Live Once.” See, back in my day, “you only live once” was something you only heard really stupid people say in proximity to doing something really stupid.
It’s amazing how some things never change.
As I was researching this, I stumbled across this little gem from Robyn Dexter, campus editor of the Eastern Illinois University’s Daily Eastern News. Robyn actually gives me hope that not everybody Meehan’s age or younger is some mouth-breathing zombie-fuckwaste because she actually points out this is all about the justification of stupidity.
“When I see “YOLO” in a tweet, I know instantly that something unintelligent and cocky is going to follow,” she wrote. “There’s nothing wrong with taking risks in life and trying new things. I’m totally for that. But there’s a fine line between living your life to the fullest and making spur-of-the-moment, completely irrational decisions.”
Robyn, I love you, even though you live in Mattoon, Illinois, which inherently means you are either fat, generally unattractive, or carry your cell phone around in your bra (more on that later). I’ve actually been to Mattoon; I spent 20 years there one night. Mattoon is the kind of town where people get married at the Days Inn, then spend 30 years bitching about not getting enough hours at the dog food factory, all while drinking themselves to death 30 cans of Busch Light at a time.
Robyn, for you prescience, I hope you graduate and escape the greater Charleston-Mattoon metroplex and become the greatest alumni Eastern Illinois ever produced, which shouldn’t be hard considering you only have to beat out Tony Romo and Mike Shanahan…wait, all bets are off if Sean Payton gets to eventually drink beer out of Roger Goodell’s hollowed-out skull.
But, the most telling quote I found was this gem from alleged comedian Jack Black.
“I’m fairly certain ‘YOLO’ is just ‘Carpe Diem’ for stupid people.”
Anything…repeat ANYTHING…that allows a crap-sewer like Jack Black to sound intelligent has to be more unholy than the Devil ass-raping the Pope on a pile of freshly-clubbed baby seals.
2) Hats (including, but not limited to baseball caps)
If you ever needed proof that we are finished as a nation, just look at our heads. Americans can’t even wear hats properly. Not only do we wear stupid hats, we can’t even wear them in a way that doesn’t make us look like a bunch of booger-eating morons. I don’t think it is a coincidence that most of these hat-crimes are exemplified by that Canada-tard Justin Bieber. Bieber is simply Canada’s revenge on us for making a star out of the multi-talentless Alan Thicke.
Forget for the time being those stupid fake “LeBron Glasses.” Forget for the time being those glasses make me want to buy a ladder, climb it, and kick LeBron James in his double dribbles. This is about hats, and in this case, it is those stupid “chicken pot pie” lids Bieber has foisted on every stupid American kid. Whenever I see a kid wearing one of these hats, it makes me wish Jerry Sandusky wasn’t in prison so these hat-criminals could spend a weekend at his house so they would learn what happens to irresponsible hat-wearers.
There’s only three legitimate times to wear one of these:
Wearing these under any other circumstances means you are either a bank robber, a prisoner, or soon will be.
This is just stocking caps on steroids. Wearing these in public in anything other than a blizzard means you are a complete dipshit who has greasy hair and those big neck pimples.
Nothing positive can come from a hat that does the impossible. It makes Terry Bradshaw look dumber. It makes him look like a talking penis with a bullet-hole chin.
Baseball caps offer so much potential for hat-crime they require their own sub-section.
There’s only two people who can pull off this look. Gomer Pyle when he was still a gas-pump jockey on the old Andy Griffith show and some 1950’s stereotype black guy named “Pappy.” Either way, the flipped-up bill is a great way to tell people you are a functionally illiterate mouth-breather with 13 toes.
I’m sorry, as much as I hate the Yankees, and as much as it would warm my heart to picture all Yankees fans in some sort of less-than-masculine color scheme, the Yankees do not wear pastels…well, at least not in public.
It’s bad enough when broke-ass black guys do this, because they don’t need any more reasons to look stupid. Standing in line at the check-cashing place with one of their baby-mommas knowing they’ve got an expired ID does that well enough. But when white guys do it, you really just want to ask them if they a) have a good cross-over dribble move, b) can’t hold a job for more than three weeks, or c) do they really think wearing their cap sideways will give them one of those giant, Mandingo cocks?
Unless you are a catcher, turn your fucking cap around right now. It should be legal to walk up to anybody wearing a backward cap in public and slam out their teeth with a pipe wrench. Or, leave your cap on backwards and end up as this guy…
Its’ your choice. Wear your hat correctly, or go to jail, or worse yet, end up as a Bieb-o-phile.
This is a little bit hypocritical for me because before I wised up and shaved my head last year I had worn a baseball cap my whole life. However, when it comes to baseball caps, I’m not the catalyst of the problem here. The trouble lies in the fact that somewhere along the line we decided that it was okay for everybody to display their creativity by wearing their hat titled in a certain way, instead of finding something that they are actually good at. For the record I have no problem with baseball caps if they are worn properly. Of course, most of the time they aren’t being worn properly. I never thought I’d live to see the day where someone can screw up placing a cap on their own head but here we are, gasping for air that is currently being overused by the people wearing the YOLO shirts.
A baseball cap either is worn straight, facing forward on one’s head. Sometimes when that person is doing work where the bill might get in the way, it is considered acceptable to wear it backwards. These are the only two ways to wear a hat. There are no others. The youth of America has bastardized the wearing of baseball caps in almost every possible way. The “sideways tilt” is the one that bothers me most. In a world where you can get shot simply by going to see a movie about a fucking comic book character, you’d think that more people would be on alert for the repercussions of wearing their hat titled sideways when you think of the thousands of people who have lost their lives because of this. But hey, You Only Live Once, right?
Now, this does not stop with baseball caps. There are several other sad and pathetic pieces of headwear that have somehow made their way into popular culture.
Simply put, bucket hats are fucking stupid. The Bucket hat (or “fishing cap” as those who have something personal against buckets and don’t usually go fishing have been known to call it) is a loose fitting hat that pretty much falls off whenever you bend over to pick anything up, make any sudden movements, or think about placing a phone call or text message. You may also be familiar with the bucket hat because inside every Dave Matthews Band concert there is somebody with a booth set up selling these pieces of shit to college students who are on spring break all year and still haven’t discovered that wearing Birkenstocks look ridiculous. But then again if you read either of our websites on a regular basis, you’d better not be at a Dave Matthews Band concert in the first place.
Unless you’re a pro athlete, there’s no reason to wear a headband. I also want to note here that this includes anyone who might be trying to pose as an athlete. Let me give you an example here: When I was in grade school we had a semi-pro basketball team around here who had this “mascot” who we’ll just call “Crazy Steve” that would go around to all of the different schools and perform tricks such as spinning basketballs on his hands and toes. As with anything that wanders into a grade school, you knew there was a message that came with this guy and it was to keep us free of drugs and alcohol. The irony in this story is the dude turned out to be a huge cocaine addict and was probably wearing the headband in the first place to absorb all of the ether that was coming out of the sweat glands on his head. It certainly wasn’t because of his repeated practice of such suggested anaerobic activites.
Back to actual athletes. Like I said, if you’re an athlete I don’t really have a problem with this because the technical term for a headband is a sweatband and it’s supposed to be used for the purpose of keeping the sweat out of your eyes. But if that’s the case, why do certain athletes need them while others don’t? If Kobe Bryant and LeBron James play the same sport, you’d think that either they’d both wear a headband or neither of them would wear one. I don’t understand that and I never will.
Obviously there was a time where wearing a cowboy hat was not only fashionable but sensible because it kept the sun out of ranchers’ eyes. 2012 is not one of those times, and I have a pretty good feeling 2013 isn’t going to be a big one either. Honestly there are a trillion possible jokes that could come of this, but why bother? It’s not like anybody who wears a cowboy hat poses a serious threat to your lifestyle is it? (If it does, number four on our list would probably not be a good place to skip ahead to in this article).
You know what? I take that back…now would be a GREAT time to make fun of all of these “dudes.” For the purpose of this piece I actually went to a local shop that sold western clothing, and I have determined that they think it’s okay to dress like that, because in their world it’s still 1871. It’s very possible that they could have just forgotten to tell hillbillies about the concept of using a calendar, and now we have to still deal with people who think it’s cool to have boots with spurs on them. I had to leave the store after a couple of minutes because I couldn’t deal with it. I could have been a good citizen and told the clerk that women can now vote but that might not have gained me anything but dirty looks, even from her. And if I wasn’t going to make that commitment, you’ve probably already guessed that I didn’t even begin to discuss the whole “We have a black president now” thing. That could have easily led to me dying behind a woodshed on a farm somewhere.
I couldn’t careless what your gender and/or sexual orientation happens to be, there is never an excuse for wearing a feather in your cap. In the famous Revolutionary war song “Yankee Doodle”, our hero came riding into town “a riding on a pony” and when he got there he “stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni”. The fact that that guy probably owned slaves, was in the tertiary stage of syphillis, and was really fucking bad at naming things that fell off of birds should tell you just how outdated this practice is.
Even though I am a huge fan of Phil Mickelson, I can’t get behind the idea of a visor. Here is the problem with visors – if you bust the fabric ANYWHERE around the entire inscribed circle of the visor itself, there’s an 100% chance that whatever the hell is on the inside is made of is going to slowly cut its way into your skull to the sound of nobody feeling sorry for you at all. A visor is not a piece of clothing. Nothing that is a booby prize from a giveaway at a bank should ever be worn in public for any reason.
I don’t think I should need to explain why there’s no need for this.
3) “Cool Story Bro: Tell it Again” / “Cool Story Babe: Now Go Make Me a Sandwich” Shirts
Let’s start with the first one. To preface, if you ever hear me utter the word “bro” you have every right to stop what ever you are doing and kick me in the neck until it snaps. Then when that’s done you can put me in one of those sexy nurse costumes with a ball gag in my mouth, and dispose of the body by shoving a stick of high potency dynamite inside my asshole and lighting it. And I would deserve such a harsh penalty because there would be no excuse for my actions whatsoever.
I first saw this shirt on a young white male (notice a theme here?) and it had really obnoxious letters that appeared to be pink. Which is humorous, because pink is typically not what you think of when you think of getting tough on anybody. What the shirt is supposed mean is that the individual wearing the shirt wasn’t listening to whatever you were saying. This is fine by me, I really don’t give a shit. Anybody that would be wearing a phrase so insanely stupid is not in my target demographic. I write all of this stuff because I hope that people who might have a hold on where their life is going may read it and not only be entertained but also may think that they have similar ideas they’d like to get off their chest. I don’t write for people who wear cheesy taglines on their articles of clothing for all sorts of reasons, ranging from “They can’t read” to “You haven’t killed yourself yet?”
Now for the “Cool Story Babe: Now Go Make Me a Sandwich” half of this atrocity. If this isn’t the biggest precursor to domestic violence outside of NASCAR and Keystone Ice, I must be completely missing the point here. What’s the problem? Was the “Where’s my Dinner Bitch?” silkscreen broken that week so everyone just conveniently latched on to the PG version of that? How weak. and who’s to assume that I always want a sandwich? What if it’s a Friday and I’m craving pizza? Way to limit your options, douchebag. You were so hung up on your goddamned sandwich that while you were in the other room surfing the internet for neon shoelaces, your girlfriend packed up all of her shit and left you because she grew tired of your requests for preparing and serving you deli products. To make matters even worse, she’s going back to her ex-boyfriend who works at a sandwich shop. You feel awfully stupid now, don’t you?
Going out of your way to say that you weren’t listening to something is a lie in and of itself because you’re acknowledging that you heard whoever was talking to you but you were being a dick and not listening. Somebody that you call your friend was trying to tell you something that happened in their day and you were thinking about that Drake song instead of listening to what he was trying to share with you. And this is the time where he’s finally had enough of that happening, so now he isn’t going to be your friend anymore either. So you’re down a girlfriend and a friend as well, but the pain doesn’t stop there: That friend of yours is now going to an orgy that is being hosted by your ex-girlfriend and the sandwich guy, and he isn’t going to invite you. So you might wanna work on that note you’ll need to write to whoever cleans up the crime scene…”Sad story bro, tell my parents I’m sorry dog…”
This is another thing about which I had no idea, and for all of you who never bothered to tell me why this phrase existed, I offer the heartiest and most sincere of “Fuck Yous.” Seriously, knowing this existed would have saved my countless hours of my life, and possibly a couple of assault charges. Had I known I could have just said “Cool Story Bro” to somebody who just pissed away a non-returnable part of my life with some pointless “who-gives-a-fuck” story, then I wouldn’t have bashed in their faces with a coffee mug.
The roots of this are almost as nefarious as those of YOLO. The phrase “cool story” apparently got it’s pop-culture birth thanks to celluloid after-birth Owen Wilson in the 2001 film Zoolander. Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller…just typing that dropped my IQ forty points and made my colon twist like an over-used phone cord (for those of you little snot-nosed, dick-squeezers who remember phones with cords).
Worse yet, “Cool Story Bro” I’ve been told this bit of joy spread to real life through the MTV reality show Jersey Shore. Great. Like I need another reason to want to throat-fuck Snooki with a barbed-wire covered baseball bat. Now that I’ve heard that, the fact that I ever wanted to consider using that line probably means I have some sort of bronzer-based, nuclear-powered, flesh-eating herpes that springs from the oozing sores on my junk and turns into Mormons.
In fact, now I hate my life so much I don’t even give a shit about this anymore…I want to go medieval on Owen Wilson, Ben Stiller, and the cast of Jersey Shore. Not only do I want them dead, I want their entire families killed. I want anybody who ever sat next to them on a plane killed. I want anybody who even has the same names killed. And not just killed; I want their throats cut, I want them shot in the head 15 times while being burned alive, and all while they are being forced to watch re-runs of “Friends.” I want their house pets cooked and fed to the homeless. Then I want to get mean.
4) The Stupidity of Skinny Jeans and Baggy Pants
Here’s another tell on my age. I’m old enough to remember when a Big Mac could not be lifted out of its wrapper with one hand by an adult male. In my day, a Big Mac was something to behold; it was like the New Orleans Superdome covered with sesame seeds and stuffed with beef, those minced onions only McDonald’s can do, and an orgy of “special sauce” and wilted lettuce. It was a fucking gastronomic miracle, and even the most doomed bariatric case couldn’t gut two of them. But now, thanks to the corporate downsizing of everything, the Big Mac is just another fast-food pussy-burger which maintains its heart-clogging capabilities because the patties are anteater meat and the “special sauce” is made from aborted Guatemalan fetuses.
“Skinny Jeans” are the Big Mac of the clothing world. Whether its burgers or blue jeans, corporate executives in this country are increasingly cut from the “Snidely Whiplash” cloth; guys who are more interested in maximizing gross margin rather than providing a quality product. This is why you get a Big Mac that is now the size of a hockey puck and jeans made with half the fabric, but sold for a higher price because they’ve managed to con the consumer into believing that pants that turn your legs blue from lack of circulation are somehow “fashionable.” Not to mention, this is another area where Justin Bieber Bieb-fucked us; he helped to make skinny jeans a huge fashion nightmare.
Of course, there’s the other end of the spectrum…baggy pants. For some reason, wearing baggy pants became perfectly acceptable. For some reason, wearing baggy pants with your boxers sticking out of your waistband became perfectly acceptable. Frankly, I don’t have as big a problem with this as you might think. To be honest, is there a better way to tell who the stupid people are than ones who can’t even buy pants that fit? There’s no way you aren’t a complete dipshit if the waistband of your pants is below your ass and you have to continually hold your pants up with your hand.
The only problem I have with skinny guys bagging out is they make it harder for me to buy pants. I’m a big guy, and I need those 46-inch waist pants that were not intended to show off the boxers on some 150-pound zit-face.
Both skinny jeans and baggy pants have one thing in common: They offer up the possibility of me getting to know the genitals of a person that I wouldn’t even be able to speak to for fifteen seconds. Here again I can’t believe society has gotten so bad that I’m sitting here typing instructions on how to not where pants, but shit happens and remember you wanted to be a movie star and that never panned out did it?
Let’s begin with skinny jeans. How desperate do you have to be that you would ever want to wear pants that basically look like they are the only thing you got after you were kicked out of Trixter? This is the fault of a lot of these guys in “emo” bands with their pouty look – Their eyeshadow, the multicolored arm tattoos that are going to look like shit in twenty years, and their pants that are so tight you can almost smell their vaginas.
But it’s not just hipster toolbags and emo makeup monkeys that are wearing this stuff. I’ve seen people wearing skinny jeans in sports bars, and that’s just completely unacceptable and it comes down to two simple things: 1) If you’re wearing skinny jeans at a sportsbar, you’re asking for trouble and since you’re technically still a dude they can beat the shit out of you and feel no guilt at all. And, 2) There is a reason that most jerseys are loose fitting: Sports fans hate tight clothing. So in a room where everyone is there to watch the game, you’re probably going to want to get your iPhone with the app that allows you to control the jukebox and hightail it the fuck out of there before somebody hurts you. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.
Now let’s shift the focus to baggy jeans. I for one understand why someone would want to wear pants that are a little on the loose fitting side, but that’s not what we’re talking about here…I’m referring to the members of the younger generations that are usually white males (bet you didn’t see that shit coming) whose pants are around their knees so the rest of us can conveniently get to know their boxers. They also can be seen wearing hooded sweatshirts that will come in handy when they go to rob the KwikMart later this evening.
“Baggy” shouldn’t mean that you look homeless. There’s nothing wrong with loose fitting clothes but when you take it to the point where you are guilty of indecent exposure the entire time you’re going food shopping, things have gotten way out of hand. (Don’t you know there are kids here? There are tons of them – their parents are the YOLO people, I thought we covered this earlier…) If the crotch is in the same horizontal level as your socks, it’s time to head on over to Kohl’s and buy a goddamn belt. That way if you can’t figure out how to use it to hold your pants up, you can always use it to strangle yourself.
5) Women Who Keep Their Money/Cell Phones, et cetera in their Bra
At the risk of sounding a little gender biased, this one is all your doing ladies. Now, I’m sure there are transgendered individuals and guys who “haven’t paid for the surgery yet” that are just as guilty of this as you are, but this is mostly practiced by women. The main issue I have here is that this is simply unfair to all men, and I’ll explain why…
Let’s just say by comparison I went up to the counter at my local grocery store and set down my usual stockpile of milk and laxatives. After ringing up what’s somehow become almost 100% of my diet the clerk tells me my total, and I immediately stick my hand down my pants. I’d be in and out of jail so fast they wouldn’t even have time to tow my car. And don’t give me any of this shit about how keeping my wallet next to my balls is much different than you carrying your money in your over the shoulder boulder holder, I’m just not going to listen to that. You are required by law to cover up your breasts in public, and the government has the same rules regarding my scrotum. That’s all I need to know, and my point is neither one of us should store our valuables there.
I’ve heard all sorts of poorly constructed arguments defending this one, and the most common one is that there are some women who refuse to carry a purse because they are afraid that someone will steal it. My counter to that would be that a purse is the greatest weapon (that doesn’t say Smith & Wesson on the side of it) that has ever been devised to protect women from theft. Seriously think about it – There’s nothing tougher (or funnier) than beating some purse snatcher to death with your purse, and if the guy does make it there’s no way he’s going to ever be able to press charges against you no matter how badly you beat him up because no adult male is going to admit to being purse-whipped.
I’m aware that there is plenty of disgusting germs on money, but even with that being said I’d much rather have blow on my money than trailer trash tit sweat. Figure out another effective way to transport the things you need and stop rubbing your nipples everytime you head to the vending machine. There has to be an alternate method.
As a bonus comment, I’d also like to add here that if you’re over the age of nine you shouldn’t be allowed to carry money in your sock and/or shoe. I hate to be such a “traditionalist” about this, but good Lord guys can’t we just use the methods that are already in place? Why do we continue to do things that are so disgusting that even cavemen wouldn’t do them?
OK, so here’s my problem on this one. I’m a man, which means I don’t have tits or clothes that don’t have pockets, so I completely don’t understand this issue. Moreover, it seems that attractive women don’t have this problem either. I say that because every woman I’ve ever seen who is ready to pull something out of her bra has boobs that look like without the aforementioned bra they might resemble a giant bowl of cottage cheese filled with big, blue veins and dumped down a hill. I can’t imagine being one of those poor guys who works at the mall and getting handed a wad of damp cleavage cash that smells like chest-ass.
Really, how hard it is to buy clothes with pockets? Those fanny-pack things, as dorky as they may be, are better than looking like a hooker from a 1940’s movie. Women will tell you this is all about not having a choice, because there are times when they just don’t want to wear pockets, carry a bag, and yet still carry a cell phone. That gets about a 9.6 on the Bullshit-o-meter.
First of all, just where do you intend to keep your keys and your driver’s license? There aren’t many places you can go where you don’t need at least one of those items, and I don’t see you chicks stuffing a key ring in between your tits.
Not to mention, it’s not like they don’t have an alternative. I discovered something called the JoeyBra, a bra complete with a side pocket to store a cell phone and other necessities.
This means all you women are now on notice. If you keep stuffing crap in your cleavage, I will keep calling you a trashbag who makes trashbag decisions. You’ve got choices. Start making some smart ones.
6) Guys Who Wear Sport Coats With Jeans
Here’s another trend that only is seen in two types of guys; there’s the 45-year old limp-dick who thinks he’s being “hip” and/or “trendy” and the 23-year future limp-dicks who try to look like them. There’s a reason why the youngsters are trying to swipe this look; it’s because the old guys who do it are college professors or other creeper-types who fancy themselves attractive to the same kinds of women the 23-year-olds are after. So, if you see a guy wearing this outfit, he either wants to have sex with women half his age, or believes there is an advantage to mimicking the hunting patterns of a sexual predator. Either way, it spells douchebag.
Whenever I see this look, the first thing that pops in my head is “youth pastor.” Even if you’ve never been to church, I’m sure at some point you have overheard one of these guys talking to a future member of their youth group in a public place. “Oh so, you skateboard? That’s way cool. I read this book everyday about a dude who was so cool he died for the sins of the world. A dude named Jesus! He’s far out!”
Out of all of these, this one is closest to representing the individual who’s wearing it. It’s an out of touch, confused, busybody who can’t get his shit together. So he thinks he can wear both of these things without being mocked, and that’s simply not an option.
And how schizophrenic does your taste in clothing have to be to have one half of you dressed a certain way, and then the other half dressed another? “Well, I want people to see the suit and know I mean business but I also want them to be aware of my love for country music! Plus, I lost my cowboy hat a few days back, so…” (we would like to take a brief moment to let you know that if you ever see a guy in a cowboy hat wearing a sport coat with blue jeans, we here at EEP and Dubsism would like to encourage you to conveniently forget everything you know about your state’s laws when it comes to throwing furniture at people) If you’re gonna do a suit, do the whole suit. Wear a tie, and do the whole thing otherwise you look like a little bitch.
This bothers us because not only is it poor taste, it’s obviously someone who isn’t as hip as he used to be (that’s assuming he was ever hip in the first place, which is highly unlikely) going out of their way to re-establish their relevance. It’s never going to happen, and that whole thing I said in the intro about finding something you’re good at, strike that…There probably isn’t anything you’ll find during that search.
Conclusion by J-Dub:
19th Scottish satirist Thomas Carlyle once said “The first purpose of clothes… was not warmth or decency, but ornament…. Among wild people, we find tattooing and painting even prior to clothes. The first spiritual want of a barbarous man is decoration; as indeed we still see among the barbarous classes in civilized countries.”
Why am I quoting some long-dead Scotsman? Because he saw how utterly fucking stupid fashion could be even then, and just walk down any street in America and you will see this country needs some serious smartening up when it comes to the shit we wear.
In his introduction, Meehan makes it clear he has his way of dressing, and it suits whatever quirks he has. That means who knows who he is, and has managed to present himself to the world in such a manner to get accepted to a college, get a job, and generally not have any real reason for fucking up his life like he has. And whatever those reasons are, they don’t have shit to do with his clothes.
I’ve got a full, complete share of respect for that, not only because “boring” never goes out of style, but “boring” means stable. Airline pilot uniforms are “boring” for a reason. Nobody wants to get on a plane and see the pilot wearing a clown wig and Crocs. You’d swim out the toilet hole to get off that plane if you had to.
See, whether you like it or not, the clothes we wear are as much a form of communication as the shit we say. The very same people who would never dream of walking into a room full of people and shouting “completely disregard me as I’m a totally useless mouth-breathing dumbfuck” don’t realize they can do EXACTLY that simply by what they wear. I know, there’s those stupid self-serving ass-loafs out there who want me to believe that discriminating against people with tattoos is wrong, but that’s the same mentality that allows some of the shit we’ve just mentioned to happen.
If you think we are wrong, let me put it this way. Would you go to a doctor who wore a “YOLO” shirt? Would you trust your life savings to a financial planner who kept her cell phone in between her tits? There’s no fucking way you would, because at the end of the day, even the most self-absorbed dipshit on earth knows that image matters.
The worst part is that when you go out into the world looking like a full-on dilweed, you don’t even realize that it isn’t the fault of the winter hat you are wearing in 95 degree temperatures. It’s that the rest of the world knows anybody wearing a fur-lined hat in weather that could scorch the scrotum off a camel couldn’t even beat-off successfully without a 15-page instruction manual they couldn’t read anyway.
Let’s face it. Dressing yourself isn’t even that hard. It’s really about three simple rules:
Having said that, when you go to a job interview in baggy jeans and a sport coat that doesn’t fit, you can’t blame the hiring manager who won’t hire you, because you’ve just told him that you can’t handle the most basic of functions and that even something as menial as letting you run the french-fry machine at an Arby’s means you are likely to burn down the whole fucking store before your first cigarette break.
In other words, don’t get mad at us for thinking you are a dipshit. We are just following what you are telling us.
Oh, and contrary to what Meehan tells you, if you do happen to bump into me on the street, there’s no way I’m going to show you my dick…well, not for free anyway.
Stay tuned to Dubsism, First Order Historians, and East End Philadelphia for more up to the minute advice on how to be undeniably awesome.
-J-Dub and Meehan
This is exactly why I subscribe to the Dub. Beautifully done, guys.
I’m happy to say that, and this should come as no surprise, I went 0-for-6 on your not-to-fashion tips.
And like you guys, I’m eagerly awaiting the inevitable Leif Garret life-path of Justin Bieber: drug addiction and then his eventual recovery on reality TV program.
If we only knew what kind of hat he’ll be wearing.
Dubs / Meehan, I applaud your thoroughness on this article. However, you guys are on some ” Grumpy Old Men ” shit. This is what the new generation likes. If anything try to make money off of it. I personally like my plainclothes too, but as Class of 90′ I gotta say …. we had our time and they have theirs. Sad truth is older generations before us will always think the younger gens’ are douchebags . Can’t say they’re wrong, but what makes them so right ? I do agree with you guys about older men dressing hip to attract chicks half their age. Fictional character Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movie couldn’t have said it better, ” nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster. “
We most certainly are. I’m actually headed to the store to pick up some beer and some bacon as soon as I hit “Post Comment”
Meehan (32 years old)
And I’m 44 in dog years, which makes me older than a constipated Methuselah fart.
You’re counting your years wrong. It’s 232.
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