Everything starts with a sick slogan. Something pithy, or witty, or so stupid it seems genius. Ideally there would be dinosaurs or Shakespeare involved or invoked. It should have a vaguely sexual connotation, but not so dirty that you couldn’t wear it to eat in a nice café or to drop off your mom at the airport on a Sunday morning. I’ve been combing the internet looking at memes and videos and Japanese websites that my computer really shouldn’t open at work, but so far nothing has jumped out at me as THE t-shirt, the one I could start a grass roots movement with here in Santa Fe first, maybe build a non-profit to support the brand kind of like Falling Whistles or Tom’s Shoes and then take that shit national. Mass produce it and start mailing it all over the world, becoming the rich-as-hell CEO and traveling to colleges all over the country, giving inspirational talks about how awesome my life is because of this one t-shirt. Of course, at that point there would be more than one t-shirt, but I would have a whole stable of comedy writers and philosophers and real thinkers of my generation who would think of those future slogans – all I have to do is come up with the one to start it all.
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- The Huntington Ladies’ Book Club – February Meeting
- Pickle the Cheetah
- Karen the Personal Trainer
- Morton the Worm at the Usury Office
- My 5 Favorite Musicals and Why, By Carla Cioca:
- Mumu the Irrelevant Mime
- Tiny Tim – Post Revisted
- Ten Prior Moments that led Jenna to this Point:
- The O. Henry Affair
- Ben’s Night Out