Fly Shoe? Don’t bother me! (aka Can I use the laces to hang myself?)

Every day, closer to death. That’s the way life goes. However, things are being expedited on my end. Mother Universe, in all her bitchy glory, has decided to plant things on this planet to make things go that much quicker. Things that appear in my eyeballholes, head towards my brain-unit, and eat away at my well-being from the inside out.

Today, we shall discuss high-heeled sneakers.

Deny it all you like. Your left brain can phone up the ol’ right brain and try to convince it that such a thing is not possible. You can ask every fashion expert on the planet to prove me wrong. But they exist.

This is why I’m convinced their is no God:

I will personally send you some Handi-wipes to clean up the vomit on your keyboard. However, the Handi-Wipes will not help cleanse your soul. Sorry. You can blame that one on me.

I witnessed these on another human beings feet. I’ll repeat that. Not only do these exist, but I saw them on the feet of another biped. Makes you tear up a little, doesn’t it?

Alright, let’s take a step back in time and apply my theory of everything to this. My theory of everything is as follows: If it exists, it was someone’s invention. Makes sense. Everything from lawn darts to Aaron Eckhart’s absurdly perfect hair were created by someone, somewhere. This theory also applies to the high-heeled sneaker-shoe.

Follow me now, if you will, on a journey from idea to creation. Counting along the way ALL the people that were fucking demented enough to think that these were a good idea. We shall start with The Creator. The Creator, a fashion designer or manic depressive sociopath who escape an institution, came up with this idea. Perhaps in a dream? “I had a dream last night, I got invited to a Formal Relay Race, and had no good footwear! It was horrible!” They scribbled it down, and took a step back. And thought, “Yes, that there is a masterpiece.”

And indeed they are, just LOOK at that beauty:

Someone please kill me…

Now, the next step. Presenting these to a shoe company. To the man in charge, The Don of Shoes, if you will. And guess what? He looked at them, and despite the fact he has a brain in his head somewhere, said: “Hell yeah, motha FUCKA!”*

*Apparently, he isn’t very professional…

Now, The Don took The Creator’s idea, and presented it to his manufacturing company. The head of manufacturing, The Builder, looked at this cataclysmic idea, and said that not only could it be done, but it will be done. What The Builder should have done was walked down to the floor of the plant, tossed himself onto the giant machine that puts the stitches into the shoes, and let himself be torn into a bloody pile of flesh. This would have been far more pleasant, I’m sure, than having to deal with the task of making high-heeled boot-sneaker shoes.

But this is not what happened. Instead, The Builder took this to his workers, The Grunts, and told them to get on it immediately. Fuck the pretty dance shoe and the stylish pump, we need to get to work on this useless project IMMEDATELY. TOP PRIORITY!

The Grunts, you see, are divided into two distinct groups. The sneaker people, and the high-heeled boot people. These two groups do not play well together. However, in a beautiful showing of love and unity, they have come together. These wonderful shoes of epic disaster have brought together once-enemies! It’s a beautiful thing. Almost makes me want to cry. Or slit my wrists, I haven’t decided.

Now it’s time to order the supplies. The Grunts put in the order to The Suppliers. We would like boot-heels. And sneaker materials.

“In the same order?” Asked The Suppliers, knowing that such a combination is asinine.

“Yes sir! You see, we are combining the two, into a Hybrid Shoe. Something which has never been seen before!”

The Supplier should have responded “You have not seen it, for a reason. You see, a boot and a sneaker together is A SHITTY SHITTY DUMB DUMB IDEA FUCKFACE!”

But instead, The Supplier boxed the stuff up, and sent it out with a smile on his face. You see, The Supplier loves to see a dream come to fruition. Even one as horrifying as this one. The Supplier, needless to say, is a terrible masochist. The likes of which you’ve never seen.

He even sent pink materials! That’s right…

THEY COME IN BRIGHT PINK!!! Oh Joy!!!

Alright, shoe built. Time to get this on the shelves, since SO many people have been waiting their entire lives for this moment! It’s like the release of the final Harry Potter book! Alright, maybe it wasn’t THAT awful… but close!

Let’s including The Store Manager in the list of people who saw this as a good idea. They saw them and said, “Of course! This is what has been missing from my business all this time! This is going to make me rich beyond belief. I, merchant of Death, shall sell these to unsuspecting, slightly-mentally handicapped people, and I shall make a fortune off their not knowing any better. Kinda like Steve Jobs does!” He then told The Stock Boy to put them out on the shelves. And The Stock Boy, against everyone on the Earth’s better judgement, complied. Making poor, minimum-waged paid Stock Boy just as liable as everyone else.

But, how do we let the general public know?! Well, we advertise of course. We get the word out. The Advertisers are involved now too. The Photographer who takes wondrous glamour shots of the beautiful shoes.

Glamour shots like THIS ONE:

Alright, now to the last piece of this puzzle of terror: The Consumer. You and me. Supposedly intelligent humans, walking on this planet, using our hard-earned money on things we need. Things that will make our lives more enjoyable. Like hideous footwear, and things to stab into out faces to end the pain.

Let’s do a quick tally.

The Creator
The Don of Shoes
The Builder
The Grunts
The Supplier
The Store Manager
The Stock Boy
The Advertiser
The Photographer
The Consumer

Look at all those people. ALL those people, plus many that I didn’t represent here, thought that THIS was a good idea.

Guess they couldn’t create a Half-Shoe, Half-Pile of Feces, so they settled for this!

Alright. Let me just sum this up quickly. You know, before my sanity is completely destroyed and I go ape-crackers on everyone around me, tearing off people’s flesh and kicking them hard in and around the shin area. This is my summary:

Whoever did this to our society, deserves to pay. Just because you HAVE an idea, does NOT mean it was a GOOD idea. In fact, it probably wasn’t. Most ideas aren’t good ones. In fact, very, VERY few ideas ARE good ones. Very few. Oh so few.

And this one wasn’t even close.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to work on my latest idea. It’s a Hybrid Hat that combines all the respectability of the Top Hat, with the childhood fun of a lil’ spinner beanie hat! I call it the… Top… Spinner Beanie Hat! It’s going to be amazing when you want to go to a grand ball and still have a little bit of fun. Either I’ll work on that, or drink a gallon of lead paint and leave this mortal realm. Haven’t decided yet. Leaning towards the latter.