V.I.G.

Vince is God.

It is as close to a "gameday" shirt as I could get. It is also a sublime statement of ecclesiastical nihilism that rocks the foundations of anyone with faith. Whoever decided to make those shirts for the '06 Rosebowl was a genius.

After I moved to Austin, the shirt gained way more utility to the shirt-wearing rotation; the essential burnt-orange adornment screamed "esoteric Austin-Legend sports-reference," which coupled with the fact that I needed someway to fit in with the cool kids at/of U.T. (everyone), it would be an immediate in. I could not have been more right.

It was an instant success: walking through the myriad of tailgates with the shirt made things feel different, made things feel better. Suddenly I was getting more bro-stares and fist-bumps, more "Dude, that shirt is awesome." Free beers flowed openly.

That is, until that day when Vince went crazy. The instant respect the shirt commanded was soon replaced with "Dude, didn't that guy go crazy?" Goddammit, Vince paradoxically made the shirt and then ruined the shirt. He was a false god. What was I to do? My social in was ruined and idolatry was a sin.

Luckily, I one-upped Vince with a "Mack is Not Whack" shirt. Now there is enough friends and free beer that I could probably hang up the shirt and have a self-sustaining social network. As I sit here now, wearing the V.I.G. shirt ( which has fallen again out of rotation) because I have not done laundry, I was just reminded of how glad I am that I was able to come up with a new shirt on the spot like that. I was fucked there for a second.