Shurt Feelings: Vol. VIII

"Shurt Feelings" is an ongoing series in which we make fun of the dumbest T-shirts of the week.

Did you think Shurt Feelings was gonna just go away? Nah. I stay forever out here.

I do my best to bestow my distinct wisdoms with the various guides we publish, but, on some real talk, I truly LIVE to write Shurt Feelings. This feature comes directly from the other side of my brain that only deals with graphic graphic T-shirt slander. I never asked to be the king of the T-shirt slander game—it chose me. Whether I like it or not, I am slander's anointed son. All I know is that when I get the opportunity to son the shit out of terrible fucking tees the words pour out of me on some extra slanderous lava flows. I don't think. The concepts of time and place cease to exist and I connect with my inner godly being of slanderment.

Welcome back to Shurt Feelings. You know the drilly.

Skip Class is a writer living in Seattle. See more of his work here and follow him on Twitter here.

Dawg, like you weren't already the gold medal winner for the Sus Olympics with your chur lil pattern ass pocket tee. You just had to go above and beyond with some serious world record level of sus-ness and throw in the v-neck into this 100% cotton conflagration. This just looks like Diet Theophilus London right here and I don't even know who Theophlius London is. Also, the pattern pocket makes you as much of a "designer" as super-sizing your meal makes you a Director of Finance and Strategy.

Oh, for real? As if females couldn't smell your lavish Aqua Di Virgin colognes already, you felt compelled to go and wear a graphic tee billboard for eternal virginity. Dude got the lil dirt chin face piercing combinations and everything. He's definitely looking like he rocks 2 limited edition G-Shocks at the same damn time. One of them holds a condom that is old enough to legally buy cigarettes.

Yeah you do, Tyson. Yes you Mountain Dew. How can you even be that excited to be wearing this shit, my guy? Oh, because you have four hundred zero % concept of how to dress appropriately for society. This shirt isn't even up to code for an informal Klan meeting. Let's just pretend to humor your "concept" for a second. Both of those words are positives. So your clever crossing out device makes NO FUCKING SENSE. And my dude, "hearting" something is not a thing. Ever.

You know what really kills my vibe? When artisanal-heritage-tattoo-Tumblrwave-rap-enthusiasts make ANYTHING. Where did you even get this from? The first delivery of the S/S 14 collection from Don't Mercantile? Congrats to whoever mocked this up (not designed because that would have taken you a whole drop shadow and opacity click). Even my nephew knows about Shirt Mock Up Dot Com. I'm not the HUGEST feminist mind you, but I do fully respect my queens. Basically you're wearing the biggest vibe killing shirt possible. So, unless you are absolutely fine with your Samsung Galaxy being your only boo all summer long, maybe take a pass on the worst silk screened idea of eternity. I think a Holocaust denial tee is the only thing that would even give this one a run for its money in the vibe killing department.

These are the three things you are all 'bout, Braiden? First off, let me put you on to some game—there's these joints called commas. Fuck with them. Right now this says "Sex Drugs & Rap," which, as far as I can tell, means you pop some Levitra and press play on your Macklemore playlist before masturbating/crying.

Can we just NOT with this fuckery anymore? If you want a "guns and girls" calendar in your garage, by all means, do your thing. These designs have the EXACT OPPOSITE effect you think they do. My guess is that you want people to think you're hard. Well, guess what? Your mans on the bus or on the train that is grilling that little airbrushed mami on your shirt is sitting across from you getting half chubbed. I will repeat, your T-shirt has cast a spell of mystical horniness. Congrats, bruh. You are now the undisputed emperor of Susatania. All hail.

This one was just novel to me. Aesthetically, it's 215 Internet years old, but it's also a symbol of just how out of touch Ice Cube is with planet earth. This is quite the statement to make. It's one thing to make the standard bold proclamations of being street smart, 'bout that life or just how big of a fan of blow jobs you are as we saw earlier. It is a whole other level of ego to claim you are a WHOLE DIRECTION though. You are the west? Damn, That's 1/4 of the whole direction game right there, player.

Wow. I think I need to go on record officially and let all these dudes know what I (and every person ever born) have known all along: YOU CAN'T HAVE SEX WITH SNEAKERS. I know. Tick, tick, tick. *mushroom cloud of epiphany explodes in your dome of footwear and virginity* Don't let the Internet make you think otherwise. You cannot slip it in. Not even just for a few seconds. You can pray to the god of Retro Grapes all you want, but your sneakers will never crawl into your bed with you and let you hit it from the back. There's nothing wrong with liking shoes, just don't take it to eleven with them shits. The line between sneakerhead and Pokemon is so thin you can't even measure it with a Level 70 Charizard.

There isn't enough slow motion weed smoke on the planet to make this shirt wearable. I loathe logo flips, but I keep a special place in my heart for the truly terrible ones. Congrats, Jeff. You did the absolute most with this one. So, let me get this straight, you're selling khakis in the trap? Parody works when it imitates and trivializes the target, which in this case happens to be the Gap. The problem with that is the Gap makes wild crazy amounts of money and grosses a quarterly revenue far greater than the combined sum of all of the traps. Also, they have sweatshops on deck, which makes the Gap more trap than the trap. You know what's really trap? A 2 to1 matching 401k, bruh. Take your little logo flip and go home to your one bedroom apartment forever.

You will DEFINITELY be rolling solo, my dude. Nobody in the history of the human race wants to ride shotty in your convertible Mustang. Especially not with your whole "yeah, I shave my arms" vibe and MLB snapback colorway that exists only to match a terrible T-shirt. Good luck recruiting a posse to rally around that fuckery. Unless you're a coke dealer, no one is going on that road trip. This dude has all the signs of someone that think every day is "arms day" at the gym.