Tag: john mayer (Page 21 of 42)

We have a mystery, Enthusiasts. Sherlock Holmes had murders; David Fahrenthold is doing God’s work tracking down Trump’s financials; the Bigfoot Hunters have ‘squatch to track; I have this puzzlement: John Mayer’s jewelry line.

Now, the mystery isn’t “Why would John Mayer have a jewelry line?” but “Does this jewelry line still exist?” Allow me to explain.

John Mayer has a jewelry line. (It makes me giggle when I write it, so that’s why I’ve repeated myself.) You can go to his site and see it, but I’ll provide some highlights. It’s a fairly standard rock star store, and the page is well-designed; you can buy all the normal bullshit, like a Christmas-y wine tote:

Or, like any other entrepeneur, John will sell you a t-shirt. It is every American’s God-given right to sell t-shirts to one another, and I applaud these offerings as patriotic. You can get a slouchy one:

Or a flowy one:

(If you do the math, sleeves cost five dollars apiece at John Mayer’s Online Merch Table®.)

Shirts–of any cut and shape–are a lovely thing, but what about pants? One cannot wear a shirt without pants; the combination instantly strips (no pun intended) you of all dignity. Shirt with no pants is more embarrassing than completely naked.

Luckily, there are pants. They’re comfortable:

I told you so.

And all that is fine and good and run-of-the-mill and what you’d expect from any normal human rock star. There are coffee mugs and ball caps: all the stuff you’d think would be there.

But there’s also this:

These things are different from the things that came before them. It’s ontological. Plus, the one on the left is not made of candy, and that’s fucked up: you know someone’s going to mistake that for a candy bracelet and try to eat it, and then they will chip a tooth and you’re out fifty bucks.

Also, everything about them is terrible. Children at a fat camp in Delaware made these on a rainy afternoon, and then an insane person priced them. They’re individually awful: number one is–as I mentioned–not candy; two and three look like things Jack Johnson stopped wearing two albums ago; and the fourth is absurd in concept: you’d have to take it off to spin it, so you’d be in constant peril of forgetting just what love is. (A verb.)

But then there was this, Enthusiasts, and it dates from September 22nd:

Yet here we are in October–excuse me, Rocktober–and the jewelry line remains. Maybe we’ll never have answers, and if we don’t, then that’s okay because no one really cares that much or at all, really.

“Have you met my family?”

I haven’t.

“My wife, Shelley.”

Uh-huh.

“The twins, Dakota and Fanning.”

Lovely children.

“Shelley’s homeschooling, of course.”

Of course.

“Private schools around here have no regulations at all about what the children’s clothes have to be washed in. All I could smell was Tide. It was disgraceful.”

Sure. There’s always public school.

“I would rather set my children on fire than send them to public school. You know why they call them ‘public’ schools, right?”

Because they’re open to the public.

“Right! And you know who’s in the public, right?”

Everybody.

“I don’t see it as ‘everybody.’ I see it as ‘just anyone at all.’ No standards. If you’re shaped like a human, then you can have a math book.”

That was what John Dewey died for.

“Ugh. Plus, the girls are special needs.”

Oh, I didn’t know. Ah. Okay. That’s a challenge, but good for you in working through it proactively.”

“They think they’re special, and they’re needy.”

There ya go.

“And, to be honest, a lot of schools don’t agree with our position on vaccines.”

No! Absolutely not! If you tell me you’re a goddamned anti-vax fuckhead, we’re having problems.

“Anti? Hell, no! Other way: we believe in over-vaccinating our children.”

Oh, come on.

“Three, four shots a day.”

Not healthy.

“The other day, we vaccinated them against the common cold.”

How’d that go?

“They both have colds.”

Are you confusing “vaccinating” with “exposing to disease?”

“Maybe.”

John, this is not your family. These are not your children.

“Is he right, Daddy?”

“Are we adopted?”

“No, Dakota! No, Fanning! You’re my children!”

“NO, WE’RE NOT!”

“WE’RE JUST RANDOS!”

“What did you do!?”

…

…

…

Wasn’t expecting that.

Dishcoteque! by John If you value your flatware, and you should, then why are you using common dishwashing liquid, or–heaven forbid–those evil pods, which are bad for your plates, hell on your glasses, and terrible for the environment. Dishcoteque! by John is a sane solution to your dishwashing concerns, and it’s available in two-ounce containers made of recycled seashells for $100.

John Mayer’s Ice! by John Mayer If you’re putting ice from your freezer into your drinks, then your children should be taken from you by the state, and not even your state: a different state that doesn’t have its shit together. Made from the purest of spring water and only handled by our trained icetenders, John Mayer’s Ice! by John Mayer is available in spheres, cubes, hypercubes, and toroidal polyhedra. $10 apiece or 3 for $30.

iScrubJM1000 You bought your sponges at Costco; these sponges were hand-picked from the ocean floor by a member of the Cousteau family. That makes them better, even though they cannot be used on any surface that food touches, due to all the sponges being infected with sea-herpes. $120 each, comes with certificate of authenticity and a pamphlet entitled “What To Do Now That You’ve Got Sea-Herpes.”

John Feather’s Mayer Duster Three different hawks, wild ostrich, and a goose that only lives in Mali have been hunted down and plucked; we believe it is the environmentally conscious way to make a duster. Don’t ask us why we believe that, but we do. Also, we have a net outside the window of our office to catch pigeons. Plus the handle’s made from a vulture’s leg bone. Birds were put on this earth to harvest for dusters. $300, replacement feathers available.

The Fanciest Fucking Backscratcher You’ve Ever Seen, for John! by John Mayer If you’ve been scratching your back with one of those metal doohickeys from 7-11, then John Mayer hates you. John’s been scratching his back for several years now since he heard it described on Pandora, and he’s put a lot of thought into the matter. Each piece is custom-fitted for your needs: arm length, back width, itchiness. The shaft is made from carbon fiber-wrapped tungsten which has been covered in a non-slip cover made of rubberized titanium, and the scratching tines have been carved from reclaimed ivory to bring awareness to something. $7,200.

White Power by John Mayer It’s toothpaste, and they didn’t think the name through. $100 a tube.

J-Tips Your ears are the hands of your skull, and you should value them enough not to use a mass-produced cotton swab to clean them. J-Tips are small-batch cotton swabs made by locally-sourced child labor right here in America. Each swab is individually produced, and then certified as kosher by a rabbi via webcam. Our patented Aurapuffs™ are pure Algerian cotton (Egyptian cotton is for poor people and American cotton is racist), and our HandiSticks™are made from three hundred-dollar bills using a proprietary Origami process that strengthens the bills, but ruins them upon use. $700 each, only available in sets of 10.

Lemon Pledge by John Mayer It’s Lemon Pledge. $350 a can.

O, Heavenly Ass JM! The toilet paper you’re using is made out of Hitler; it’s probably giving you anal lupus as we speak. A longtime user of toilet paper, John Mayer overheard his ass-wiper mention one day that not everyone had ass-wipers. “They do it themselves?” John asked. “Is that environmentally conscious?” That began our collaboration with John: our app, Poopr, will have a certified and bonded anal detailer at your house, work, or the Barnes & Noble where you like to poop in less than 15 minutes. It’s like Uber, but for clean buttholes. $200 a pop, prices subject to surge pricing.

John Mayer’s John Mayer’s Opera by John Mayer for John! by John Mayer for JM by John Galliano John Mayer befriends fat people who are planning on undergoing liposuction. The adipose tissue suctioned out is turned into handcrafted soaps. Each bar comes with a song about the person who donated the fat written and performed by John Mayer himself. $900 per bar.