Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Damn Right To Bare Arms

bobby old snake shirt

A champion of the commentariat, Cube, (who ironically exists in only two dimensions) brings us word that not only has Snake T-shirt not been relegated to the storage unit with the Izods and the short shorts, but is still in the shirt rotation!

First off: congratulations, Snake T-shirt. Simply surviving this long is a miracle in the garment world. Other people might ask if there were not multiple snake t-shirts, but not me. I know there’s only one Snake T-shirt.

It couldn’t have been easy: Bobby demands a lot from himself, and even more from his shirts. Blood, sweat, tears? That’s a monday morning for Bobby’s closet. They’re not absorbing your mortal sweat in your dribs and drabs: Bobby’s shirts have to handle a Niagara Falls of chemical-and-quinoa infused perspiration that would choke a moose. (And not just a normal moose: a moose that was particularly good at swallowing things. A porn star moose. Mercedes Moossse.)

Are you finished?

The extra “s” is for “sucking moose cock like a dirty moose whore.”

What about the other extra “s?”

What?

Could you get back to whatever it is you were doing?

I was being proud of a shirt.

You need to start dating.

Also, Bobby’s arms look awesome-sauce.

Men or women: at this point it does not matter. You need to take some of this out on someone other than these nice people.

2 Comments

  1. You’re welcome. You said you had questions so here’s the whole story. Went to a show. Noticed the shirt. Vaguely remembered it from the 80/90s. Was somewhat disappointed that it wasn’t the tamalpais chiefs/Madonna/pink alligator.

    That’s pretty much it except that my wife thought it was strange that I noticed. Like that somehow reflects on me.

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