Sup, you fuckin' mortals? When life finally logs you out due to inactivity, you’ll either be whisked away to #Menswear Heaven on the smelted down, crepe sole wings of angels or flung headlong through the infernal keyhole to #Menswear Hell. #Menswear Hell abides by it’s own rules: no gods, no masters. The #menswear legacy you left behind on earf determines what special punishment you’re subjected to for all of time. Doesn’t that sound like the brie’s cheese? If you haven’t yet read Dante’s Inferno—as I’m sure all you Kindle-having pariahs have meant to—spoilers abound.
Rick Morrison is a writer living in North Carolina. Follow him on Twitter here.
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Fifth Circle: Anger
The fifth circle of hell is reserved for all you hot-headed cats who take shots at your alphets mad personally and/or those of you who catch feelings on the Internet and treat comment sections like a pillow you can scream into. In Dante's Inferno the angry are condemned to fistfight in the River Styx. #Menswear Hell is no different, except there's a camera crew filming it, helmed by a hypeman yelling, "WORLDSTAR! WORLDSTAR! NO JUMP-INS! NO JUMP-INS!"