MAD T.K. MAXX


I wouldn’t want anybody spraining a retina trying to decipher the masochistically minuscule red text at the bottom of this absolute head-scratcher, so I’ll transcribe it (sic) for you.

THE RIDE IN MEMORY OF ALL THOSE
WHO FORGOTT TO LOOK BOTH LEFT AND RIGHT.
AND TO ALL THOSE THAT DID! JUST KEEP WALKING…
AS WE WILL KEEP ROCKING THE INTERSECTIONS
OF TEE CITY.
WATCH OUT!

So, putting all the disparate elements of this design together – and feeling like Sherlock Holmes staring at a table laid out with several pieces of apparently incongruous but abstractly connected evidence – I have eventually arrived at the following harrowing conclusions:

This T-shirt fake-commemorates a made-up event that ran, annually, for six years, between 1978 and 1984, before it was presumably banned owing to widespread public outrage. Said event involved “Dare Drivers” barrelling down “26th Street” with a deliberate lack of due care and attention, often resulting in them ploughing into crowds of pedestrians, leaving behind ghoulish piles of twisted metal and eviscerated flesh (as depicted on the spectral illustration behind the main text).

Those killed were then ‘commemorated’ by the following year’s carnage-filled Dare Drive, which generated yet more deaths, which were then commemorated by the following year’s Dare Drive, and so on and so on, until 1984, when the city’s residents finally decided – after six years of sociopathic automotive slaughter – that enough was enough.

Can that be right? Can it? Like the Koran or the Mona Lisa’s smile, this T-shirt is surely open to an almost infinite number of interpretations. Furrow-browed, elbow-patched, coffee-breathed scholars will be poring over this bad boy for decades.

Bookmark and Share

Advertisements

TALKIN’ OUTTA YER ASS


With the best will in the world, writing “World’s Fastest Super-Car!” across the bonnet of your  1984 Ford Escort won’t magically make it so.

Thanks to Bwalya Newton

Bookmark and Share

EVERYONE LIKES A LITTLE 69


What’s the thinking behind fake-distressed, erroneously-dated designs such as this? Are they intended to trick onlookers into being impressed that the wearer has stayed loyal to a garment that’s long past its prime? Or are they supposed to indicate that the wearer feels profoundly alienated from contemporary life, and yearns to escape to some long-gone, halcyon era? Or… what?

Whatever the reason, fake distressing is fast becoming the norm for many high-street clothing chains. How long before this practice spreads beyond the world of fashion? How long before new cars come pre-riddled with rust, or new houses have chic rising-damp built into them? Ladies will wear bras that make their tits sag, men will shave bald patches onto their heads, and eventually we’ll all just be lying around in the street, pretending to be dead.

Bookmark and Share

CRAPTATHALON


Just as San Francisco has a Department of Water, a Department of Public Health and a Department of Public Works, it also has a Department of Athletics, which is called upon to deal with the city’s frequent athlete infestations and outbreaks of triple-jumping.

1976 (or “Seventy Six”, if you’re numerically dyslexic) was, of course, the year that hurdles pox broke out in Ashbury Heights. A lot of good people hurt their shins and fell on their faces that winter. Let us never forget.

Bookmark and Share

MORRIS MINOR THREAT

Reckon your neck tattoo and earlobe gauges make you the final word in edgy, anti-authority cool? Well prepare to stand corrected, because this lady’s got “REBELLION 1983” emblazoned across across her flippin’ eyes and mouth! She’s such a militant iconoclast, she won’t even allow herself to see or eat until the Berlin Wall’s fallen, Thatcher’s resigned and Mandela’s been released.

Thanks to Helen Amazing

Bookmark and Share

“HEYYY DARLIN’, LOOKIN’ FER BUSINESS?”


This is actually part of a set that includes stick-on arm bruises, a hammer to knock your front teeth out with and an apocalyptic crystal-meth habit.

Thanks to Helen Amazing

Bookmark and Share

MOB CEASEFIRE

Well now, this is a new development: New York and Chicago, traditionally fierce rivals in the fake-souvenir-garment racket (and also, of course, the frozen-pizza racket) have obviously put aside their differences and joined forces, in order to ruthlessly dominate the global nonsensical T-shirt trade.

How long before the West Coast contingent wants ‘in’ on this all-powerful new cabal of banality, and we see the first “New York & Chicago & California 1976 Sports Team” T-shirts coming through? Then it’ll be Miami, then Hawaii will get involved…

I’d like to see T-shirt designers be a little more imaginative with their meaningless locations – howsabout one that reads “Kabul & Bognor Regis & The Moons Of Jupiter”? It’d give the impression that you’ve just been on one helluva holiday.

Thanks to smelltherage

Bookmark and Share