During the summer our crack staff of malcontents and social drinkers will be compiling a list of the ten most excruciatingly terrible people on the face of the earth.  Those distinctly unique douchebags who completely fail at life and yet still manage to rise above their own horendousness to be lauded by some faction of the masses.  They deserve our ridicule, tasteless jokes, and general disdain…and at the very least a punch in the face.  Feel free to send nominations to us at hundreddollarhandshakes@gmail.com.  The List will be an ongoing summer endeavor and is a fluid situation to account for the future awfulness that these chosen few will surely produce.

Affliction: The outfitter of douchebags everywhere

Seriously, we just dont get it. 

Why anyone would want a closet full of shirts that make it look like you went on a full summer concert tour with Pantera is beyond us, but maybe we just arent intense enough (we kinda feel like anyone who wears this stuff on a regular basis probably takes Red Bull intravenously and runs around all day screaming “Tapout!” at intermittent times).  Its well documented that some chicks dig this stuff, but honestly we dont have the time or energy it takes to properly accessorize these shirts with the fake tanner and hair gel they require.  We have no idea why its considered more socially appropriate to head out for a night on the town in a shirt with a flaming skull and cross bones or a glitter embossed panther with Ed Hardy’s signature under it than (seriously, who comes up with those designs, its like they stole the drawing notebook from that weird kid in the back of your 7th grade class that wore the leather jacket, even in the summer, and always smelled of stale bread and Dungeons and Dragons, and made a clothing line based solely on his images of war and unicorns), say, a neatly pressed polo…mix in a collared shirt or 5 every once in a while there Joey Porshe.

Aside from the increased levels of ones general awesomeness, there do also seem to be some noticeable side effects of the extreme t-shirt experience.  One of the most glaring being the proclivity to pucker ones lips and throw a hearty “deuces” (preferably with a bleached out temptress with several surgical enhancements…not that we are complaining) whenever a photo op arises.

Its easy to see why youre smitten honey

These shirts also apparently increase your bad ass levels by ten fold.  Every guy who wears these things apparently thinks they suddenly have morphed into Randy Couture.  All night youll find them walking around the bar hoping, nay, praying, that some unfortunate soul bumps into him or looks at him wrong just so he can apply the Brazilian Ju Jitsu choke hold that he saw during the Ultimate Fighter episodes he has piled into his DVR…all the while not spilling his, of course, Red Bull and vodka.

Now, we arent here to downplay a good ol’ American tshirt revolution.  We rocked the Vuarnet and OP shirts with a vengeance back in the day, so we understand where the need to be a part of something larger than yourself comes from.  Hell, even Big Johnson had its place…but seriously, youre a grown man.  You are wearing a shirt with flaming skulls and mythical dragons on it…in public.  Seriously.