Given my silly predilections, I have owned and proudly sported more than a few arguably objectionable t-shirts in my day.
Some choice designs that spring immediately to mind include a pink Circle Jerks shirt that got me politely asked off a Florida golf course in the mid-80’s, a limited-edition tee from L.E.S. watering hole Maxx Fish that read “SERVE SATAN,” the infamous “pope" shirt by Killing Joke, which featured an archival photo of a priest blessing Nazi troops, the “Live from the Hate Fuck Capital City of The World” t-shirt from Pussy Galore (which I ended up giving to my nextdoor neighbor), and several pointedly nihilistic Cop Shoot Cop t-shirts. I remember getting wearily reprimanded by my friend Rob D’s mom for wearing a Slash Records t-shirt to her house on a day when she had impressionable company over. The offending garment inexplicably had the Slash Records logo upside-down on the front, and the legend “STAND ON YOUR HEAD, MOTHERFUCKER” on the back. Oops.
By and large, though, t-shirts — no matter how relatively offensive — don’t usually invite that much scrutiny. Most people can’t be bothered.
This morning, however, while I was waiting for a bacon, egg & cheese on a roll at a deli out here on Long Island, an elderly gentleman stepped up to me, his blue eyes flaring angrily above his courteous face mask. “What the Hell is THAT supposed to mean?” I blanked for a moment. What is what supposed to mean? I looked down at the t-shirt I’d thoughtlessly grabbed from the drawer and put on this morning at 6:00 am, prior to dropping my son off on a group fishing expedition — a white t-shirt with the old logo of I.R.S. records, the storied indie label responsible for several crucial records by bands like Wall of Voodoo,The Cramps, The Lords of the New Church, The Police, The Go-Go’s and R.E.M., to name a small few. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s just the block capital letters -- I.R.S. (which stood for International Records Syndicate) — underneath a frowny, no-nonsene federal bureaucrat in black shades.
“Oh,” I laughed, "it’s just a record label, sir,” glancing back down at my phone.
“What? Is that supposed to be funny or something? Because it’s JUST NOT!” he exclaimed, standing stock-still for another few moments to underscore his displeasure before shuffling off to the register.
These are testy times.
Incidentally, if you are similarly a fan of I.R.S. Records, you should know there's a documentary in the works called "We Were Once Rebels." Learn more here.
Also, if you're similarly besotted with stupid band t-shirts, you might enjoy Loud Laundry.
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