First off, let’s get this on the table: I suck, because I clicked on this ad just because…well, you know “why because.” It just bothers me–maybe because I have daughters who have to live in this world, or maybe because they played me like mouth harp and I’m filled with self-loathing. And that’s the post: pay attention to what they’re selling you, and how they’re selling it. Coincidentally, just after writing the first draft of this post I encountered yet another breast-intensive t-shirt ad. It is apparently a trend, and while the target page is different I’m wondering if both of these companies are related. Finally, as if this all isn’t enough, I finally saw a t-shirt discounter page featuring a man, but not a sexy hunk of a man with similarly eye-popping physical attributes. No, it would seem that the t-shirt marketers have identified sloppy, bearded no-good bums as their target demographic. In short, they’re selling directly to me–or a younger, slogan-shirt wearing incarnation of me. Fascinating.
Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels, growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.View Archive →