Previously and in the past I have discussed how nice, kind, great, super people who are certainly bound for heaven have been sending me things I like.
The summer past was a summer of extreme generosity.
Without prejudice I opened my box and accepted just about everything that came the way of Dingle.
For that, you are welcome.
Not so much so lately.
And I feel I can be honest at this time, these gifts have since of late been waining.
By waining I mean stupid and crap and dumb and you’re totally going to the hell of mine mind.
Think not for a moment that the Empire has been losing fans and admirers.
Unpossible. It’s more that the things arriving are, well, simply not high on the desirability scale.
Many of these items fall in the low to Dicky range.
Perhaps this is a bi-product of recent success’ and elitisms.
Perhaps this is the result of my indubitable expansion as an artist and primordial villain.
I’d show you examples.
Real live examples, examples exemplifying the kind of shit I occasionally lug home from the post box (other even lesser desirables lay strew about the gutters of Bolton along side Hummer packaging materials and discarded Chinotto cans), but I don’t feel that these efforts deserve even validation of terribleness.
Most recent shipments can’t even achieve a level of craptasticness that would allow they be deemed ironic.
I know irony. I live it.
Forced I have been to purchase my own individuality.
Gone are the days of event t-shits and commemorative craps.
Prepare to be jealous.
What makes a good t-shirt?
If someone, anyone, of lesser social status owns one…it’s not a good t-shirt.
If you don’t know your social status you are that someone.
If someone you don’t want to talk to is compelled to ask about it…it’s not a good t-shirt.
If someone you would never associate with gives you a thumb (or any extremity) up…it’s not a good t-shirt.
If women scream ravenously and expose their breasts in your general direction…you are probably me and it is not a good t-shirt.
If people you enjoy ask you to never wear a particular shirt…it’s a good t-shirt.
If people you could not care about, even if they were on fire and standing in a box of TNT inside a puppy mill frequented by orphans looks at you with distaste or confusion or fright…it’s a good t-shirt.
If it makes you feel superior (and people believe it)…it’s a good t-shirt.
What should you do if you find a t-shirt that meets the aforementioned criterium?
You should fuckingwell buy it.
For me.
Sharing and caring will ease a guilty conscience.
Do not (Steve Martin) send me a link to a t-shirt that I should BUY myself.
I can no afford things these days…for real…I was blessed with a brilliant mind, incredible looks, strapping body and more talent then I have developed skills for, but all my bank accounts have genetic holes.
