trend humper
CHOKED OUT
Did you ever notice that if you took the letters in the word “Scotty” and rearranged them, then replaced some letters with different letters, it would spell, “genius?” I noticed.
That said... No more questions.
Let's get on to the amazing shit. You know what I mean. Fucking scarves!
I'm not talking about the keep-me-warm-in-the-winter-my-grandma-knitted-this-shit-in-a-misguided-attempt-to-make-me-happy-on-Christmas kinda scarf. We're talking scarves made from the thinly flayed skins of the Gods. That's right folks, this is the keffiyeh—part cotton, part wool, all sex. Birthed in the womb of modern civilization, nestled in the sandy bologna curtains of the Mesopotamian Valley, these accessories descended from some glorious celestial loom to grace the tender, slender necks of the fashion savvy...
...and then, these empyrean treasures go on to be improperly worn by Middle Easter guys—get this—wrapped around their frickin' heads! That dude Yasser Arafat used to wear one, like, all the time. Yo Yasser, check yo shit, punk. Ever hear of Urban Outfitters?
What's that? Racist, you say? Incorrect. My hatred knows no color. It isn't limited by the confines of simple pigmentation. When some goon fucks up the constructs of a very deliberate and calculated fashion trend, regardless of race, I burst forth—a rage geyser, bent and fueled by an unholy wrath so primal and ugly, it'd make your god quiver in his robes (and really... robes? Isn't it about time for a wardrobe update? Frickin' hippie). So... not racist but styl...ist? Anyway, I hate anyone who dresses like an idiot.
And just a short hop across the pond, we've got a bunch of chumps wandering around the desert, misusing scarves—saying it's some religious thing. Thankfully, we here in the states tend to regard people from other parts of the world as backward and uneducated—which is obviously the case if you're wearing your scarf wrapped around your goddamn head like some crazy stupid person!
Thankfully, our underground network of style-spies have appropriated the keffiyeh. Given it a new home where it's no longer relegated to obscure secular constraints—where it can shine in its synergistic glory as an integral part in this well oiled and unstoppable American fashion machine.
What I'm getting at here is that scarves, when worn properly, are super bad ass. We're moving leaps and bounds beyond simple accessorizing. And let's not overlook the fairly obvious philosophical commentary. We willingly lynch ourselves as we, oh so ironically lower the noose—wrapped around our very necks in blatant protest to mortality's arrogant fragility. Be damned ye specters of death, we scoff at the unforgiving heavens, for we don our silken snares by choice. We challenge the nature of existence by (stylishly) telling it to go fuck itself.
And from the philosophical to the meteorological—scarves are a year-round affair. These bitches can be worn in mid-August, Arizona. 115 degrees? So what? We mock the mirthless sun as we prance haughtily through the shadeless ASU campus, laughing like frenzied ghouls at the Girls Gone Wild sorority sluts as they blithely traipse by, bow-legged and sore—half dazed from last nights Mike's Hard Lemonade and Rufinol cocktails (I love you Cindy—call me).
And this, my friends, raises an interesting point. Can chicks get away with wearing these fragile, feminine, frilly scarves?
NO! No they cannot. Moving on.
However, you dudes out there must practice a modicum of careful precision when adorning oneself with a scarf. Example: if you're wearing a deep V neck, fucking make sure it's deep enough that your scarf doesn't cover the thing, rendering the whole point of the shirt moot. If you're crazy concerned about your chest tattoo, you can opt out of the Bandito class, making absolutely certain the flanges hang parallel, just over the nips.
All too often I've witnessed some douche-face, ass bag unknowingly obscuring, not only their deep V but their half obscured chest tattoo as well. And what point is there to the half obscured chest tattoo if it's entirely obscured? It is of the utmost importance that the word; determined, beautifully scripted in a right-leaning, calligraphic font, is only partially legible. We want the passive observer to read ermi—which could mean anything! The more frustratingly cryptic this smattering of letters, the better. We want you to want more. We want you to ponder the meaning of ermi, to wrack your vacuous brains to the point of violent and explosive aneurism. “Why does it say ERMI!” you'll cry as they lead you away to your padded cell to wallow in a warm pool of your own feed—only to ultimately realize, through the torpid murk of your laudanum haze that we—the scarf wearing, tattoo chested, deep V sporting bastions of style... are better than you.
Yeah. So, don't let your scarf cover up your shit.