Someone wrote a product review of our Surfy Surfy tee on Swell.com
excerpt: The shirt’s creator carefully selected a delicate baby blue for the backdrop, then — keeping things within the family, as always — plunged deeply into the sea’s palette for complementary hues, which he boldly splashed across the front in his daring yet playful signature font. “SURFY SURFY” is what it says; “HAPPY HAPPY” is how you’ll feel when you don this upbeat take on the blues. And while it’s all watery fun out front, the shirt’s graphic-free, solid blue back is the workhouse holding the design together.
Three words sum up the posterior: simple, traditional, elegant. Obviously, the understated back only adds vitality to the an already flair-filled front.”Regular fit”? I don’t believe it. How about “perfect fit,” Broseph? ‘Cause this keeper feels like a custom, clinging to my chest and snugging up to my biceps just so. And although the label claims “100 % cotton,” this shirt must be made out of meth, considering how confident it makes me feel. What? Did someone hide a Fentanyl patch in the fabric? When I’m wearing my Surfy Surfy Blues, I feel all warm and fuzzy and glowy, like nobody or thing can get me — not even the many, many demons from my past.
From there on it just gets weird…
SusanMay 15, 2010
Some of your best writing to date, JP. In the business, we call it purple prose.
There's no justice, Fest-usMay 16, 2010
I … choke … can’t … stop … laughing … wheeze … at … that … gasp … illustration. Custom work or customized clip art? Either way, how did the artist get it so right? The soul-starving lack of light. The isolation. The paranoid side glance. The implied twitchiness. That misshapen nose (obviously the result of plenty of one-sided punchouts)? The only thing that might be lacking is a broader perspective of the “workspace,” a ’79 windowless Econoline parked somewhere different in Point Loma every day, keeping a lot of uneasy residents on their toes.
I know the “writer.” He is indeed creepy.
By the way: Where’s my goddamn shrimp helmet, you hamster?