Sunday, July 25, 2004

The Uniform

This is an asshole shirt.

I call this an asshole shirt because whenever I see a guy wearing this shirt I think to myself, There's a guy wearing an asshole shirt. That guy is an asshole.

It's not a matter of style. These men aren't assholes because they have poor taste. The shirt is merely a uniform that assholes subconsciously issue to themselves as soon as they've established themselves as assholes.

I'm certainly guilty of judging books by their covers but for me there has never been an exception to the rule. I've met these men. I've worked with them. I've overheard their conversations at restaurants (they're usually pretty loud when they boast about sleeping around).

You don't see too many of these shirts around these days. Although I did see one on the beltline the other day. The shirt was on a guy with slicked backed hair driving a Porsche talking on a cell phone. There were even leather suspenders to complete the ensemble. I thought I'd pulled up next to Gordon Gecko.

Do I own one of these shirts?

Back when I was forced to wear a tie everyday I thought about buying one of the shirts. Being an asshole myself I was instinctively drawn to the shirt. But I fought the urge.

I am an undercover asshole.

Many of us have gone undercover and we're not so easy to spot in a crowd. These days you'll need to speak to us one-on-one. However it doesn't take much time for us to reveal our asshole stripes. It's just a matter of classification after that.

I see myself as the David Brent type asshole these days. Only I'm not anyone's boss and I can't really pull off the goatee.

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