Target’s ‘Trophy’ women’s T-shirts blasted as ‘sexist’ –

Target is coming under fire for selling a T-shirt critics are calling sexist.

Sold to women and juniors for $12.99 and in plus sizes for $14.99, the black T-shirts in question have the word “Trophy” printed across the chest in white capital letters. Social media users are now blasting the retain chain for selling the T-shirt, claiming the word is sexist.


“Backlash!” “Under fire!” “Blasting!” I know it’s gonna be a good day when the Twitter rabble are outraged about something.

Okay, what is it now? A T-shirt? Most women would be pleased that their husband or boyfriend would adorn his woman with the word ‘Trophy,’ as in “She’s a catch. She’s mine. Now go away.”

Only fat feminist dykes would take offense to it. What would they prefer? “Ugly.” “Shrew.” “Undesirable.”

It’s probably a good thing that I’m a nonperson with zero career prospects. Because if I were on television in some alternate universe where I didn’t have certain idiot jurisdictions scaring everyone off with its kook law gag orders or whatever, I’d be ‘under fire’ nearly every day, facing whatever ‘backlash.’ “He called the president a nigger! And no, I didn’t even listen to the bit!” “He called his neighbor a broad! And no, I didn’t even listen to the bit!”

Did you even listen to the bit? Ninety-nine percent of customer grievances at the complaint window may be addressed with that one question.

If I were to have a late night variety show as my vehicle for social, political, and legal mayhem, we’d have a segment of the show called “The Cooling Saucer.” We’d print out each and every last expression of outrage of the Twitter rabble toward my work –which, interestingly enough, is, by definition, excellent and beyond reproach; those qualities uniquely applicable to the field of study of stand-up comedy where the comedian is always right or else you’re just not getting it; that’s the sweet spot where the comedian deftly places the blame right back onto he who complained, the onus for introspection and self-examination returned to the dissatisfied customer like a disapproved refund request– and into this cooling saucer (the prop people having procured a trash can for this purpose) go the printouts of whatever latest backlash of the Twitter rabble.

And then every once in a while we’ll have a buxom beauty in high heels and a ‘Trophy’ T-shirt come out and fish a complaint out of the cooling saucer like it’s a raffle at the Elks Club, and I will read aloud the precise offense of which I had been accused when the customer complaint was lodged several weeks prior. And I’ll call the aggrieved party on the phone:

“Hi. Chris King here. I’m working the customer service window today. You were outraged about something six weeks ago. Something I said. Do you remember what it was?”

“Huh? Wha?”

“According to our records, you lodged a customer complaint on August the seventh, a complaint about my use of the word ‘broad.’ You said, and I quote, ‘@USS_Armageddon how dare you say broad she’s cisgender and tries hard. get off tv. #FeministNutjob #PunctuationIsAlwaysNice’. Are you still outraged?”

And nine times out of ten the aggrieved customer will have moved on to some new source of ire.

Ignore them. They can’t think, they can’t spell, and they won’t remember in two days precisely what prompted them to register their outrage on their smartphones. They have a two-minute attention span.

I use Twitter as a one-way transmission system. I have zero interest in carrying on imaginary relationships with imaginary friends. I have four followers and that’s about all I can handle: some news service, some guy who claims to be God, some broad who speaks Spanish or something, and Admiral Tranthor who seeks only my total annihilation anyway. Why would I want more followers?

I am America’s Senior Comedian. Thank you for your kind attention in this matter.