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The Design Issue 2004

Dos & Don'ts

And we thought last month's "Paki Wearing a Skrewdriver Belt Buckle" was as good as it gets.

And we thought last month's "Paki Wearing a Skrewdriver Belt Buckle" was as good as it gets. Tabernak! (That's Quebecer for "fuck"). This month we've been trumped by "Black Guy With a Wattie Belt Buckle." What's next month going to be, Alicia Keys wearing an "Eatin Ain't Cheatin" belt buckle?

Hmm, I'm 50 years old with Down's and I can't talk, so I guess I'll go sit on a couch in a basement somewhere and watch TV, right?


Wrong! I'm going to sing in a rock band and dance my fucking ass off for so long people have to go, "All right, all right Bobby, I got it. Jesus."   When you rate girls from 1 to 10 on the street you're allowed to play with the personality a bit. Like, if you see a 7 go by you can pretend she has a huge record collection and can play the piano and that then makes her an 8. Of course, when you see a 9 and she has weird tattoos and boots like these, you don't have to fill in the blanks. You are looking at a motherfucking 10 and that happens about twice a year—at the most.

OK, it's hard to defend the post-parole era when he called himself Dirt McGirt after Wonder Woman told him to during his visit to Batman Island (no joke), but remember when this album came out? Man. Let's just focus on that and ignore the distinct possibility that, like Joe Strummer, John Entwistle and John Peel, he probably just couldn't handle his coke.   There's a certain kind of face (in this case an ultra Jew-y Bob Dylan face) that just kind of puts the cherry on any sundae of an ensemble you care to throw together. How could he go wrong? This guy could dress like Jimmy Fallon and still look good.

Does it get better than this? You've got a bag and a dirty slut nobody has to know about and the room is on someone else's credit card and the mini-bar is full. Even after the relentlessly loud fuck session (who cares about the neighbors—they don't even live there), there's the nude jumping on the bed and the movies and the room service. What's heaven got? Fuck heaven. Heaven's for fags.


One thing you have to understand about nerds is this is how they see all women (even dogs): horny-as-shit, 80s, hippy, new wave, super models that do backflips, will eat you alive, and get instantly bored if you're not hilarious.   However, if you are an ugly nerd with big glasses don't fret. Instead of trying to be cool, swing the pendulum the other way and go for "Crazy geek guy." You just get some stupid outfit from Value Village and jump around like an asshole. You think girls are going to be bummed out that you were too busy learning stuff to know how to dance?

There's some weird thing with socks and high heels where you just get covered in a protective coating of babe sauce and can do no wrong. She could even let one rip and we'd still have a boner.   While the rest of us are rolling out of bed and smelling what shirt to wear, some motherfuckers are out there, in the trenches, going fucking mental. They're not all serious about it (there's Hot Wheels tattoos and tuxedo shirts) but, as Minor Threat said, "At least they're fucking tryiiiiiing! What the fuck have you done?"

Not since surgeons started making dinks out of lesbians' vaginas have I seen such a beautiful piece of greatness so hideously deformed. Christmas Chucks? Are you kidding me? When I asked him that he said, "They used to have jingle bells on the back but they got on my nerves." That's like saying, "I don't like it when people take shits on my chest because of that weird crackling sound it makes when it comes out their butts."


When a lot of young black men are in college they are initiated into a fraternity via a large piece of bubble gum that is affixed to their arm. It fucking reeks and it sticks to your clothes and it keeps having to be redone but it stands for something, something real. It says, "I used to go to a school and hang out with a bunch of guys that you don't know."   "Oooooh, better get in the stall and close the door so nobody sees my weewee. I don't want to use any of the available urinals because gay wapists might wook at my dinky and gwab it. Ooooh, I need my special, private pee pee place."

I understand that you're "gay" or "gay positive" or whatever and you are not ashamed of the fact that your tits look like a hell of a lot of other tits out there (more than Hollywood would care to admit) and unfair beauty standards and blah blah blah but for fuck's sake Rhoda, the kid is three years old. Why don't you tell her what a Cleveland Steamer is while you're at it.   Every time I go on a road trip I become convinced I have X-ray vision but then I realize that most of America is ugly fat people who think that they have amazing Daisy Duke asses you simply MUST check out.

I'm all for fighting the towelheads and getting behind enemy lines as a spy and all that but this is the worst fucking disguise I've ever seen. You literally have a towel on your head. And yes, Middle Eastern men are darker and more hirsute but you might want to spend more than two seconds on your make-up. No offense to America but I hope you get caught and they chop your head off on al-Jazeera.


You know what? If you even have to think for one second, "Are these girls really horny twins or are these girls really horny guys?" then get out of there. Let's just cut loose that whole genre. Sure we may lose some actual chicks along the way that could be pretty hot, but such is the price of battle. Goodbye forever to the borderline broads.   Man, that whole mesh cap, logo tee, stressed denim and skate shoes thing is so played. How do those guys even look at themselves without barfing?

Here's a Miss Manners faux pas. When you're at a wedding don't go around the room choking people until they pass out. We don't like it. It's scary, it feels like you're dying (there's even the "go to the light" thing) and it hurts to swallow for weeks after.   Ever notice how, when a totally out of her mind person is kind of hot there will always be a guy willing to ignore the clown make-up, kid's clothes and the time John Lennon's face passed through the back of her soul?