Twenty Five

 

2019

On the subway the other day I sat across from a fellow wearing a peculiar tee shirt.  He was a normal looking young man otherwise.  I’d guess about 30, maybe a few years older.  Black hair, a bit of a beard that could have used some more attention, but not wild.  Little bit of a smirk on his face; the kind of look that makes you think that this is the way his mouth is set most of the time. Normal looking jeans and shoes. But the tee shirt...

It was gray and had two arrows and four words on it; the arrows and words in black. One arrow started out near his heart and pointed up toward his head. The other arrow was beneath the first, pointing in the other direction, down toward his crotch.  

The words, “the man” were written underneath the arrow that pointed toward his head.   Adjacent to the other arrow, the one pointing toward his crotch, were the words, “the legend.”

What makes someone wear a shirt like that?   I’ve been to tourist areas that attract those who push the limits of convention: Las Vegas, New Orleans, Key West for examples.  I see shirts hanging in novelty stores in these locales that are amusing.  Some messages are subtle, others anything but.  I might laugh at some that I think are clever, but I nearly always wonder who would ever wear such a shirt.  

The man and the legend. Okay, maybe you wear this as a joke to sleep, once, because you think your lover will get a kick out of it.  Maybe.  But waking up on a regular day and saying to yourself, “what shirt should I wear today. Well, I know. I’ll wear that one.”  This is tough to get my brain around unless I consider that the wearer is short on something.

Once in a Buffalo library, a dour looking woman came in, placed her books on the long table, and took off her windbreaker.  Her top was bright red.  In large letters, were the words, I am so horny, with the word horny written in all caps.  

I think that people who wear such duds have a gap somewhere.  There is some piece of the foundation that is loose or just never was installed and the building just grew up around it.  We kid every once in a while, and refer to people saying their elevator does not go up to the top, or that they’re one card short of a full deck.  

My sense is that what is missing is not in the head, but in the heart.  You walk around with a shirt that brags about “the legend” on public transportation you either are very short on shirts, or short on emotional nourishment.  Sure, you could just have a quirky sense of humor.  I certainly know people who find jokes hysterical that I consider not funny at best, and at worst, offensive, or mind bogglingly stupid. Some popular tv shows include bits that apparently are funny to enough people to attract advertisers.  I catch glimpses of these shows when the funniest parts are used in advertisements.  They seem to me to be so unfunny that I wonder how any appreciative audience could be wired.  But this is a matter of taste. 

Wearing a shirt bragging about your sexual prowess or announcing your horniness is something else. Either you lost a bet and were compelled to wear the shirt for a day, or you’re missing a piece in the middle of your chest.

And while the offense is not egregious, the source of the offense is in greater or lesser degrees the same fuel for behaviors that most societies consider reprehensible.  My traveling companion on the subway is not necessarily or likely to be a mass murderer, but he is missing the same floorboard that creates a fragile existence for those who, at some point, decide it is rational and high time to kill.