This is it. The very end of 2008. No more 2008 shirts. It’s all over. Relish that extra leap second. Relish it like it was a fresh hot dog.

This is it. The very last shirt. Tomorrow there will be nothing here. Nothing ever again. No more shirt.woot. It’s all over.

We’ve had a lot of fun, haven’t we? You yelled at us, we cried, a few people bought some nice designs, really, it was a good run. But it was inevitable, really, that we’d collapse under our own weight and stupidity.

The person we really feel bad for is Joel. He’s got those five kids to feed, and that second wife in Las Vegas. What is he going to do tomorrow? Maybe he can use all the leftover shirts to clean windshields or something. If you see him, try to throw a quarter his way, okay?

Thanks to everyone for all the times they stopped in to visit. We really wish we could have done this forever, but the time finally came for us to… well, son of a gun. There’s a 2009 calendar over on the chair. Look at that, already full of shirts for the rest of the month and beyond. Wow, do I feel foolish. It was just the calendar that was ending, not the site. Guess we’ll see everybody tomorrow! And Joel, man, totally sorry about telling everybody about your secret second wife. Major faux pas on me.

This shirt was designed by: an illustrator named Dale Edwin Murray. He’s British and mean. Greenwich mean. He’ll cross you like a date line.

Wear this shirt: because even the youngest among us are one year closer to having no years left at all. Just like the Joker would say in “The Dark Knight”. I’ve basically got that movie memorized now. If it doesn’t get the Oscar the academy loses total credibility forever.

Don’t wear this shirt: if you’ve got a hangover and just can’t deal with this Nine Inch Nails Twilight crap today. It’s a new year, you know? Why don’t you turn off that computer and get some sunshine. Go to the duck pond or something. Live a little.

This shirt tells the world: “Some say love, it is a flower, that’s given to a crow. Some say love, it is a dagger, that’s stabbed with and not thrown. Some say love, it shoots off lightning, hovering beside a bone. I say love, it is a coffin, where blob things make their home.”

We call this color: Asp Halt. We’ve been waiting since January for someone to give us a snake stopping shirt but it never happened. Instead we’re using the joke here. It doesn’t fit. Please try to be more considerate in 2009.

Back to top