Silicon Valley, CA-We’ve all seen the incredible ingenuity behind Untuckit, the New York based, men’s wear line which harpooned the fashion world by discovering that shirts contain the ability to be untucked. After decades of painstakingly studying Tommy Bahama and Life is Good, Untuckit was finally able to determine that paunchy men with no personalities enjoy remedying their looming depression by buying future landfill fodder.
Continuing in the tradition of waste, a contrarian brand known as Tuck It has birthed through a tower of skid marked jock straps in a characterless suburb of your choosing. Tuck It is a brand new shirt for men that fastens under the gooch, similar to a child’s onesie.
The patented burlap thong back fits perfectly into most sized butt cracks and because it fastens to the revolutionary “scrote-bag” in front, your shirt will stay firmly tucked in even as the rest of your life falls to pieces. As you look into the mirror at your deteriorating body and mind, you can at least take comfort in the fact that you purchased a shirt from a Facebook ad.
Imagine losing your wife and your job in the same day while still looking like the prideful asshole you are. So give up today and say Tuck It.
Chicago, IL-The sniveling, cherub faced fucking muppet wandering aimlessly around the train like a new born lamb, wrapped in his luxury Canada Goose parka, is undoubtedly on his way home to cry himself to sleep. His beady eyes and quivering lips, barely visible through the luxurious fur lining the oversized hood, reek of the type of despondency pacified only by the purchase of a luxury item.
Absolutely every feature and accessory is curated to appear spineless, a thousand lifetimes void of hardship or adversity. He’s not suited for the cold, or anything for that matter.
He rides the train with an air of contentment, periodically glancing up from his tablet sized phone to ensure that his leather messenger bag is positioned in a way that makes him look like a world traveler but also someone who burns the midnight oil at a well-known agency. He adjusts the laces on his chukka boots and perfectly tailored selvedge denim jeans.
Featureless and completely forgettable, docile, compliant, his possessions function as a personality of sorts. Perceived intrigue in an otherwise wholly uninteresting existence, he waits patiently for the moment he can return to his apartment, bury his doughy face in his pillow and weep until exhaustion sets in and he falls asleep.