Monday, February 22, 2010


This shirt’s got buttons and a collar, so fuck you. In my estimation, that’s dressed up. That’s license to go anywhere: job interviews, hearings, weddings, funerals, and public speaking engagements. I am held hostage by it. It’s so fucking goofy. I hate the extra fabric, stiffness, and complexity, all present for no tangible or quantifiable purpose. I feel like I’m owed something for this gross indignity.

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