Pictured at left is a pair of Crocs. If you’ve been to a Wal Mart in the last five years, you’ve probably seen them on the stinky, swollen feet of some pathetic lardass. Or possibly the screaming offspring of that lardass. Or both.

Frankly, I have no idea why anyone would want to wear gelatinous rubber slippers anywhere except the pool. Nor can I understand why anyone with any sort of personal respect and decency would wear them at all. These shoes are meant for overweight, Frito-munching, American Idol-watching, Natural Light sucking, trailer-park hoosiers. These shoes belong only on the gnarly hooves of the unwashed scum at the very bottom of the food chain.

But under no circumstances should these shoes ever, ever, EVER appear on an adult male. Ever. I don’t care if the dickhead scrubs the greasetrap at Jack In The Box for minimum wage and lives in his mother’s broomcloset. No man should ever be seen in a pair of these horrendous, feminizing shoes. Rather than spend a dime on these shoes, just go out in public wearing a shirt that reads, “I give up on this life. It’s too difficult for me.” Better yet, just put a fucking shotgun in your toothless mouth and blow your brains out the back of your head. You should have developed enough of a nutsack to know better than that.

So don’t wear fucking Crocs around me, or I’ll bash your worthless fucking face in like a baby seal. I mean it. Grow up and act like a man.