I have a simple, three-step plan in regards to clothing and having myself dressed over the course of my life. It goes like so:

-Have my father dress me until I enter the Air Force

-Have the Air Force dress me until I get married

-Have my wife dress me until I die

So far, I’ve made it successfully through the first phase and comfortably into the second, with potential forays into the third. Needless to say, though, this plan has what some people may deem a critical flaw — I utterly lack any fashion sense whatsoever. Just as a point of reference, my two favorite articles of clothing are a tee shirt with the word “Stud” over the picture of a muffin, and a mustard yellow polyester suit. I like to think it brings out my sunny personality.

Now, fashion is something that’s never concerned me. But walking along today with my girlfriend through a clothing store, I came to a realization. I will gladly spend money on clothing if, and only if, they have a wee baby shark on them. So congratulations Mr. Greg Norman, you fabulous Aussie. So long as you keep slapping that wee baby shark on clothing, I will continue to blow money on it.

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