This tropical shirt is a temperamental one. Angry. Brooding. Foreboding. It is the darkness before the storm, the dying rays of dusk, the thin light of the waning moon.
In a word, it’s dark.
Sometimes we all want to be “that guy,” the one that struts into the bar full of swagger, emitting hints of danger that are plenty strong enough to warn off lesser men. Nobody messes with “that guy” (hey, wasn’t there an old Croce song called, “You don’t mess around with Gim.” Something like that. Seems apropos.)
And yet, there’s a hint of something a little less dire in “Storm’s a Commin’,” too. A toothy grin from a silhouetted pineapple skull. A little green bleeding through the menacing purples and black. Maybe the wearer of this tropical just had a tough day, and now he’s looking for someone to pull him out of his funk.
Don’t count on it! Better to steer clear and keep one’s face intact.
Storm’s a Commin’