Launching into his cringeworthy Santa impression, Butler began distributing hastily wrapped items to the grim-faced members of his family.
“Jesus Christ,” Butler's brother Paul spat bitterly under his breath, peeling back some re-used wrapping paper to reveal a small box of little chocolate liqueurs. “James knows that I don’t like anything too sugary, and that I rarely drink ... he just picked these up at a petrol station on his way here, I'm sure. Just goes to show how little the lazy bastard cares about his own flesh and blood.”
But, unable or unwilling to register his younger brother’s visible distress, Butler kept on handing out presents. “The sort of gifts you buy a total stranger you couldn’t be bothered trying to impress,” muttered his sister, Sandy. “He says he’s too wrapped up in work to do much shopping. But he doesn’t even have any kids … yet I somehow managed to get presents that show my family how much I care … and how much I know about them!”
She motioned silently toward their mother who stared coldly at a partially wrapped DVD-set of paranormal conspiracy thriller, Millennium. “Mom once mentioned enjoying murder mysteries, so the best he can muster is some ancient show about ghosts and vampires that he used to watch. He probably just found that on his shelf!” she seethed, eyeing the scuffed DVD case in her mother's hands.
When asked for comment, Butler told quite a different story. “It’s true, I often do my Christmas shopping late,” he explained while taking a swig of his fourth or fifth beer. “But work's got me doing crazy hours, and lately I’ve had a lot of bills to pay. I don't always bring the flashiest gifts, but it’s the thought that counts,” he smiled, seemingly impervious to the glares from his fed-up family.
“What I mean is ... that Christmas is really about is spending time with the ones you love,” Butler chuckled.“Although, at some point in the day, some of them do tend to get a little tetchy ... but that’s to be expected when you’re tired out from cooking all day and putting up such lovely decorations,” he continued, motioning vaguely towards the magnificent 8-foot Christmas tree in his sister’s lounge. Behind him, his niece quietly pushed her half-unwrapped knock-off Dragon Ball Z toy to the bottom of the bin.
“Between you and me,” whispered Butler. “This is about as much cheer as I can take in one sitting. Christmas really isn’t my thing. But I always put in the effort! I know how much it means to my folks and siblings that we’re all together under one roof.”
Last Order Date | Delivery Option |
Thursday, 8 December 2022 | Standard Delivery: Regional Areas* |
Sunday, 11 December 2022 | Standard Delivery: Main Centres* |
Friday, 23 December 2022 | Pickup at Sad Shirts HQ in Cape Town |
* What Is a Regional Area?
A regional area is any Town or City in South Africa that is not catered for via a daily flight schedule. In order for this to be possible the area must be within the delivery range of a recognised Airport. All regional areas will experience a delay in the delivery time, as most of these areas are not serviced daily.
* What Is a Main Centre?
A main centre is any Town or City in South Africa that is serviced via a daily flight schedule. In order for this to be possible the area must be within the delivery range of a recognised Airport. These Airport hubs are as follows: Johannesburg, Durban, East London, Port Elizabeth, George, Cape Town and Bloemfontein.
The COVID epidemic has presented us with many bizarre scenes, and one of the most poignant is the sight of performers – whether they be rock stars, opera singers or football teams – performing in front of a non-existent audience.
Of course there is always the barrier between the artist and the audience, and the bigger the artist, the bigger the barrier, and that probably makes this sort of thing easier. But in the case of a metal band, particularly a promising but less well-known local metal band, it must be creepy as hell to stand up on stage in front of exactly no one and carry on as if it were the greatest gig ever.
For example, Hellfest took place this June in Clisson, France, just the same as it has every June since 2006: the oldest and biggest live metal festival in France. I was there in person in 2010 and went back virtually in 2021, and the contrast was … not ear-shattering. In fact, the contrast was to be read in silences.
The environment was obviously different. In 2010 I danced myself to near oblivion and met interesting strangers from all over the world until I could stand no longer, and then blundered away, half deaf, to a tent in a cold muddy field full of happy metalheads speaking a whole kaleidoscope of languages. In 2021 I sat on a warm cosy couch with two of my best friends, watching the bands play on TV while we ate chips and chatted. From my perspective, those were two completely different experiences, like the difference between watching a football game and watching it from your favourite local pub. Imagine how different it must have been for the bands!
There are certain things that are still the same. Then as now, the bands were delighted to be playing for a crowd (as opposed to not playing at all, which is what COVID has brought to many), and the audience was still excited about seeing the show. In fact, it was still a good way for new bands to get exposure. Despite the empty stadium, the audience was still there. We were merely removed by an extra degree – very much present, and an even bigger crowd than ever, because we didn't all have to travel to Clisson.
And that is how Hellfest presented itself this year – trying to juggle the dissonance between the old normal and the "new normal". The pyrotechnics were still laid on just as lavishly, to the point of setting up giant fire-belching machines that no one got to see up-close except the crew and the guys on stage. The sound engineering was excellent, since they didn't have to worry about playing across a field of people, and they could concentrate on the mix that went to the feed. The camerawork was excellent, making creative use of drones to give us shots from angles that we'd never have been able to see ourselves.
The bands proclaimed themselves in full make-up and melodrama, acting for the cameras which zoomed in close to the band and then went swooping across the panorama of the massive concert stage and the non-existent concert audience.
We were there. We were really "there". We saw them, but they didn't see us. We didn't even see the rest of the audience, outside the lounge in Cape Town. We knew they were there, like a vast crowd of ghosts, but there was no one looking back at us, and no one looking back at the band.
Despite the make-up and explosives, the effect was nothing like a live performance. We were safe, we were in control of our experience. We could pass comments, munch popcorn, go to the toilet, or even turn the music down as if we were listening to an album. That is not live music. It destroys the impact and concentration, the excitement and the adventure.
"Virtual" can never be a visceral or immersive experience. Live audiences have to suffer for the art, and they mix with a crowd of like-minded strangers. Relationships are born. The unexpected happens. Trying to feel that in a live broadcast is like being on stage at Hellfest and trying to hear the crowd cheering.
As the Ensiferum vocalist, Petri Lindroos, said on the night: "Next time hopefully we'll have all you guys over here, because this is just all too weird."
]]>We’ve had a great time watching a few amazing streaming concerts. And this weekend we’re going to represent Sad Shirts while we couch-rock to some live acts streaming from Hellfest at Home this weekend.
So pull your Sad Shirt on if you have it and let's unite in our shared gig withdrawal. We’re going to be talking shit on our Facebook page while we’re watching. We hope somebody will talk back. Perhaps we can dispel the dystopian gloom and simulate some gig fun-times.
]]>If you know us, you’ll know we love to rock. Music is a constant for us - food for the soul, if you will. Like a lot of you, we had some of our best times at gigs. And we’ve been rather spoiled for choice over the last decade. At least I have – I’ve seen some of my all-time top bands right here in our sunny little backwater on the tip of Africa! Many of those sublime experiences were possible thanks to the now sadly defunct Witchdoctor Productions. I lived through Cape Town’s golden age of rock and metal. And like all good things, it went to absolute fucking shit.
On 27 March last year the country went into lockdown and, like all events involving large groups, live music was banned. The consequences for performing musicians and the events-industry have been devastating – for many it won’t be possible to simply get back on that horse! once Covid is ‘under control’. If or when that happens. It has occurred to me more than once that I may have attended my last gig early in 2020. Because as the lockdown dragged on, we saw live music tour dates shifted to October, and then to 2022. A glum future indeed.
But in shitty times we take our pleasures where we can, and a friend alerted me to Wacken World Wide Streaming. Having previously regarded streaming as a poor substitute for the real thing, I was surprised to find it gave me enough of that connection to the music. Enough to keep the hope alive.
Since then, we’ve had a great time watching a few amazing streaming concerts. And this weekend we’re going to represent Sad Shirts while we couch-rock to some live acts streaming from Hellfest at Home this weekend.
The majority of the support slots are filled with bands neither of us are familiar with, although a few of them look like exciting stuff. But it’s the headliners we’re dying to see - bless those Hellfest folks for managing to organise some heavy-hitters in these trying times.
We’ve been lucky enough to see two of them in the flesh, so this is going to be a bitter-sweet reminder of pre-pandemic times. But also perhaps some fresh hope?
On Friday Night we’ll be watching:
Hangman’s Chair
(stoner rock) 19h30
We’re dead keen to check out these French doom merchants.
Black Bomb A
(metalcore/groove metal) 20h00
Shaarghot
(industrial metal/electro punk) 21h00
Ensiferum
(folk metal) 22h00
My mate Justin and I went up to see Ensiferum up in Jhb in 2010. Our heads were blown clean off, so I’m dying to check them out again.
Then, on Saturday Night, we’ll be watching:
The Great Old Ones
(black metal) 17h45
It would be a crime for Sad Shirts to miss a robe-clad band called The Great Old Ones because … well. Because obviously. They claim to invoke the chaos and madness of cosmic horror… or was it a wall of noise? Either way, we can’t wait to see what occult craziness they conjure up.
Loudblast
(death metal) 18h30
We’ve haven’t heard them, but we’ve heard of them. Bring it on.
Laura Cox
(hard rock) 21h00
Guitar-wizard Laura Cox initially made her name as a Youtube guitarist but is now France’s premier blues rock export.
Jinjer
(metalcore) 22h00
We both saw Jinjer annihilate the Mercury Live in May 2019, and they left a lasting impression. Seamlessly blending the heaviest grooves with mind-bending experimentation, Jinjer put on an electrifying performance. And they’ve just recorded a new album, which means they’ll hopefully debut some new tunes!
We reckon this sounds like a good time to some of our friends, so we’re going to be talking shit on our Facebook page while we’re watching. We hope somebody will talk back. Perhaps we can dispel the dystopian gloom and simulate some gig fun-times.
And if you have a Sad Shirt, put that shit on, yo! Then we’ll be like a team. A sad team. United in our shared gig withdrawal. And through the power of all our sad shirts together, we’ll manifest cosmic gig magic!
]]>A fascinating custom which originated in Germany’s black forest region in the 1400s, ghost-proofing was a growth industry. Belief in the supernatural was widespread and many people were happy to spend their money on protective charms and trinkets.
Come Halloween, nervous parents would take extraordinary measures to ensure their little ones were safe from otherworldly interference. For almost a decade, a popular belief had the superstitious in constant terror of oral invasion by evil spirits and mean-spirited ghouls.
Entrepreneurs, charlatans, and even some in the priesthood saw this as a grand money-making opportunity. Protective charms of all kinds were purchased and worn by most folk, especially towards the end of the October month.
On the night of all hallows eve, children in well-to-do homes would to bed with defensive baubles affixed to their chins. From saint’s coins to sprigs of aromatic herbs, every child-mouth was secured against ill-natured spiritual invasion.
But what of the poor? Those grimy infants unable to afford splendid trinkets – was the impecunity of their parents or care-givers reason enough for them to be abandoned to the fate of Satan’s catamite? Not if ingenuity and thrift were observed!
The penniless mother would apply special bettelmist paste on the chin of each child. This protective paste was made from a chewed poultice of grass, tramp feces, and run-off holy water, and daubed down the chin. This stinky spirit-shield kept poor children safe and gave peasant parents peace of mind for over a decade, until the ghost craze passed.
As a fascinating aside, jazz legend, Jimmy “Ditsy” Gillespie, saw illustrations of children wearing bettelmist stripes in an old encyclopedia, and was inspired to style his own facial hair in a similar way. Learning of the history behind this custom, he joked that his new beard was the protective patch that kept the demons away from his soul. And thus the soul patch was birthed of the whimsy of a curious trumpeter.
But we don’t really mind because, as any South African worth their sugar knows, a Chappy a day keeps the stoopid away!
Did you know that it takes just the single wrapper of one lowly ‘ol Chapper to learn a new thing or two?
Case in point this fascinating factoid that we eagerly devoured over here at Sad Shirts HQ when the time finally arrived for our much-anticipated daily ritual of divvying up and sharing our allotted sugary 50c square for the day.
We were about as giddy as that godawful Gloop boy around the chocolate in kooky ol' Charlie's factory with its dubious workforce of hopped-up goblin slaves. But we were still very careful not to tear the precious wrapper with its invaluable teachings as we gently peeled the Chappy away from its paper.
Mmmmmm … (*Smack*) ... so very sugary and sweet. So lovely and soft. So nice and ... and... so... very small ...
Taking care to appreciate the joy of a Chappie on a Tuesday, we invested a minute to savour the full flavour of our baby bubble gum balls ~ chewing fast and chewing little; with itty-bitty bites in just the tiny space between our two front teeth.
And then came the best part ~ reading the wrapper!
And that's how you know that you’ve cemented your place in history! When you're immortalised as a treasured Chappie fact ~ memorialised as question number 588 in the iconic SA quiz of treasured trivia factoids. It doesn't get any better than that!
We also try to do our bit for the edification of humanity, so we thought we'd share this interesting piece on the origin story of the Chappies brand, which has many fascinating facts we're willing to bet you did not know!
]]>We have Classic Fit Unisex T-Shirts with this design available ... ... as well as Fitted Women's T-Shirts.
]]>It's a thrilling behind-the-scenes look at the making of our 'Mine!' design.
We hope you guys dig it!
We have Classic Fit Unisex T-Shirts with this design available ...
... as well as Fitted Women's T-Shirts.
]]>— Dagon, H. P. Lovecraft
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]]>
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]]>Keep this little kitty close, and he’ll daringly defend you against all the rotten days you might face this week.
“Your planet’s in danger?” asks our fearless little feline.“Don’t be scared! We’re on it!” he assures those uneasy of heart.
When we created Kit Courage, thoughts and feelings about the heroic child were swirling round in our minds; musings and reverie about the easing earnestness of their intentions. He might look small and helpless, but he definitely is not! He’s completely serious and ceaselessly committed to fight for his cause.
Kit Courage lives on 3 of the 5 longsleeve t-shirts we currently have on Slash Sale. He is one of our Legacy Range artworks, which are the hand-printed designs that our brand has, over the years, become so synonymous with. And he told us that he would LOVE to meet all of you!
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]]>Keep this little kitty close, and he’ll daringly defend you against any rotten days you might face this week.
“Your planet’s in danger?” asks our fearless little feline.“Don’t be scared! We’re on it!” he assures those uneasy of heart.
When we created Kit Courage, thoughts and feelings about the heroic child were swirling round in our minds; musings and reverie about the easing earnestness of their intentions. He might look small and helpless, but he definitely is not! He’s completely serious and ceaselessly committed to fight for his cause.
Kit Courage lives on 3 of the 5 longsleeve t-shirts we currently have on Slash Sale. He is one of our Legacy Range artworks, which are the hand-printed designs that our brand has, over the years, become so synonymous with. And he told us that he would LOVE to meet all of you!
Join our weekly newsletter in the website footer. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram and get a little critter at the start of each week!
]]>The booing rose and died again as Piggy lifted the white, magic shell.
“Which is better –to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?”
A great clamor rose among the savages. Piggy shouted again.
“Which is better –to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?”
Again the clamor and again – “Zup!”
Ralph shouted against the noise.
“Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?”
Now Jack was yelling too and Ralph could no longer make himself heard. Jack had backed right against the tribe and they were a solid mass of menace that bristled with spears.
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies
“Which is better – to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?”
A great clamor rose among the savages. Piggy shouted again.
“Which is better – to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?”
Again the clamor and again – “Zup!”
Ralph shouted against the noise.
“Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?”
Now Jack was yelling too and Ralph could no longer make himself heard. Jack had backed right against the tribe and they were a solid mass of menace that bristled with spears.
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies
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]]>Join our weekly newsletter in the website footer. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram and get a little critter at the start of each week!
]]>Join our weekly newsletter in the website footer. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram and get a little critter at the start of each week!
]]>]]>
Capable of abstract thought and non-essential whimsy, human beings enjoy visual stimulation and getting a joke. Our Elder Thing shirt employs the post-modern concept of parody, by juxtaposing two disparate cultural references.
By recognising even one of these references, you can join the social ‘in-group’ of those who “get the joke”. Your ticket to these Elysian fields? A simple chuckle or verbal signal of your understanding. And voila, you’re one of us.
Maybe you’ve never heard of it and you think I’m talking about some old prog-rock band from the 1970s. But the torso is actually pretty important when it comes to your health; housing your lungs, heart, stomach, kidneys, liver and Lord knows what else.
It’s a kind of meaty box that houses the organs that power the body. Lose even one of these ‘organs’, and you’ll probably die right away. Or maybe you’ll just become paralysed and be unable to feed yourself, swim backstroke, or dance.
Alarmingly, organs are susceptible to cold. On the plus side, a solidly frozen organ (of any sort) will remain in good condition for ages. But, on the downside, a frozen organ can’t process bodily inner-goop. And Winter’s here… so we’re all gonna die, right?
Wrong. Just a single Elder Thing shirt provides a convenient cloth tube for your torso, keeping it warm and preventing the chilling, seasonal death that awaits most human beings each year.
You’ll notice I didn’t say your mother, or even my mother. I’m of course talking about the Mother of Abominations. The Scarlet Woman. The One who shall herald the end of all things and prepare this world for the return of the Old Ones.
Anyway, she sent us a mail and said she loves the design and wants a lot of people to buy it. And she’s really not the sort of entity you wish to anger.
Let’s face it. All the big clothing manufacturers do it. Whether it’s the spinning of the cotton for your cotton socks, or polishing the brass buttons on your blazer, every part of everything you’re wearing was made by a brutally-exploited-and-beaten-and-worse child.
Take a look at yourself in the mirror and tell me what it feels like to be clad in the raw suffering of innocents. Unless you’re more of a monster than Hitler, you should hate yourself right now.
But here’s a chance to redeem yourself, you despicable filth. We don’t use children* in any area of our operation. It’s all ethical and legit to the level of the Dalai Lama or Jesus or something. So wearing an Elder Thing shirt announces to the world that you don’t condone the brutal exploitation of children for profits, and that you’re willing to put your money where your mouth is.
I should probably have lead with this, since it’s a more tangible benefit than the other rubbish I came up with. Basically, if you buy one of the Elder Thing shirts before Sunday night, you’ll go into a lucky draw.
We’ll put all the names in a hat and draw the winner live on Facebook on Sunday night. Since there are only 15 shirts, your chances are pretty good. And if you win, I promise I’ll spend a decent amount of time on the drawing, instead of just phoning it in like I never ever do, ever. So it’ll be something nice (or at the very least, a conversation-starter) you can actually put up on the wall.
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]]>Join our weekly newsletter in the website footer. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram and get a little critter at the start of each week!
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]]>
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]]>Join our weekly newsletter in the website footer. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram and get a little critter at the start of each week!
]]>
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]]>
This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, “One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.”
“One side of what? The other side of what?” thought Alice to herself.“
Of the mushroom,” said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight.
— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
“You'll get used to it in time,” said the Caterpillar; and it put the hookah into its mouth and began smoking again.
This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, “One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.”
“One side of what? The other side of what?” thought Alice to herself.“
Of the mushroom,” said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight.
— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
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Join our weekly newsletter in the website footer. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram and get a little critter at the start of each week!
]]>As an ardent collector, Ivan owns many, many t-shirts (about a hundred at last count!). But there was one elusive shirt that he never could find. One with Cthulhu on it.
“Hot dog!” Ivan ejaculated.
“I so yearn for a crazy Cthulhu shirt to call my own.”
“Aaah … yeees … how wondrous it would be …” he daydreamed.
“I’d be wrapped up in the gratifying warmth of Lovecraft’s work. Like a soft, comfy blankie. A furry cocoon of Lovecraftian terror!”
And so it came to pass that Ivan began carving his own destiny and, unbeknownst to him, laying the foundations of what would go on to become the signature hand-printed shirt that you, our beloved kinfolk, have come to know as a Sad Shirt.
Falling back on the lino-printing skills he learned in high-school art class, Ivan drew and he sketched.
He drew, sketched and erased. He carved and he carved. And he carved some more. He smeared ink and cussed for a spell. He added another thin coat of ink for old time’s sake. And then he cussed a little bit more for luck.
Then it was finally time for Ivan to make the crazy cool Cthulhu shirt he’d mused over for so long. So he printed it. And it was marvellous!
He had finally done it!
There, in his house at Observ’try, Sad Ivan stood beaming.
Agog at the pile of sweet, sweet t-shirt money in his hand, Ivan was bolstered. Stronger. And vindicated. An underdog – victorious!
The years rolled by and Ivan delighted with one awesome design after another. While also dealing with the pressures of a demanding full-time job, he single-handedly transformed Sad Shirts from an obscure little one-man operation into something very special.
And he, in an incredible feat, single-handedly built a solid following of kindred spirits, who have shown the brand remarkable loyalty.
People like you, dear customer, who make it all worthwhile.
]]>