I have to dress biz caz for my working routines, and hate that, but try to mix it up with some ugly combos of polo shirts or the type of thrift store dress shirts that were obviously worn by older black men at some point. It’s really the only way I can inject nonsense into my wardrobe at this point. Apparently I bought a magic shirt of some sort – lavender but kind of shiny yet still cotton, very very urban storefront churchy. Anyways, something has happened since I’ve started wearing this shirt in the past two months to where I can’t distinguish the difference between a lot of white people we’ve been meeting lately. They all seem to look the same to me, with the same Mike and Laurie and Todd and Anne names. Seriously, my wife will be like, “I’m going over to Mike and Anne’s,” and I’m like, “Who?” and she describes them in detail and how we met them, and I vaguely remember pot lucks with a giant slew of people who have all blurred together into the same man and woman. This has also helped me understand why black families were more creative with their naming of children, perhaps adding a consonant and apostrophe in front of a name, or combining the parents names, or just making up some bullshit. It is an easy way to distinguish the faces. I am thankful that the rest of society seems to be catching up to this trend, though white people who do this are still using up wacky words that aren’t usually names like Indian tribes or trees, and have yet to get to the whole completely making up new things phase of naming their children. This type of labeling of humans makes it much easier to distinguish them from each other, instead of them all being named Laurie and Paul.
Also, Andre Williams is fucking awesome. I like to imagine my magic shirt was originally his.
STEAL “Andre’s Thang”
NEXT UP: A modern drug lament sad country-ish song!
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