Dear Joe Johnson {Owner; Obvious Shirts]:
Good day, Sir. You and I have a great deal in common, but this is not a personal letter, and time is short, so the friendly chit chat is going to have to wait for another occasion. I need personal. shirts, and I need them rather quickly. You see, like you, I have ideas of what should be on a t-shirt. In 2019, I came up with one of the greatest t-shirt slogans for the Fayetteville Woodpeckers of the now defunct Carolina League. “Fear the Wood! Respect the Pecker!” was the rallying cry on the shirt, a cry that should have echoed throughout the land, but upper management refused to run with the idea because they worship at the alter of RIGID FAMILY VALUES.
A local t-shirt place printed the shirts, but they never really took off because the proprietors lacked the vision you seem to have. Do not worry; I seek no partnership with you (I know how things went in Arizona). I am spiritually wealthy since I am the somewhat official Thirty Thursday Ambassador of the minor leagues. Financial compensation really does not interest me, unless of course, we are talking shit tons of revenue being generated.
I just need shirts with my ideas on them. Sure, I could go to any local place to get this done, but your shirts are of high qualify and so, so soft. I should know because I purchased one recently from my good friends at the Myrtle Beach Pelicans. I recently wore it to a Cactus League game at Sloan Park. Your social media department seemed to like the photos, although that might have been because I am quite the piece of eye candy.
Anyway, I am tentatively scheduled to throw out a first pitch in Myrtle Beach on June 1st, and the Pelicans are placing a brick engraved with my moniker in their stadium as an appreciation of my assistance during these bleak times. I am bringing a rather rugged crew of road warriors with me, and we need seven shirts that say, “Hunter Horenstein is My Friend”, and one shirt that says “Don’t @ Me, Hunter Horenstein!” Oh, and another that says, “Where is Nick?” This should be the social event of the season in Myrtle Beach, so if you are in town, you more than welcome to join us for some SHOTS! and brats.
I have some ideas for the Low A West (formerly the California League):
Fresno Grizzlies: Good Girls Go to Heaven. Bad Girls Go to Taco Trucks.
Inland Empire 66ers: Where the Beautiful People Come to Games. Except All Those Ugly Folk.
Lake Elsinore Storm: We Have Been Living Off a Creative Design for Almost Thirty Years.
Modesto Nuts: Whose Nuts? DEEZ NUTS!
Rancho Cucamonga Quakes: Where Fun Goes To Die.
San Jose Giants: Big League Population. Minor League Stadium.
Stockton: At Least We Aren’t San Bernardino!
Visalia Rawhide: Come For the Tattoo. Stay for the Game.
As a minor league lifer who has traveled throughout the circuit for so many years, I could be the creative force that allows you to tap into that fertile, but mostly untouched minor league market. Oh, the virgin fields we could plow, Joe! We could steal the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile and go on tour. Well, you could because this face is too pretty for prison. Perhaps I would meet you at some venues along the way, but probably not. I am kind of a big deal, and pretty high in demand by front offices in desperate need of increased revenues.
Here are some other ideas are sure to be big hits with MiLB front offices.
$4 Beers Aren’t Thirsty Thursday.
Taco Tuesdays Are Not Much Without Tequila Specials.
Our Mascot Can Beat Up Your Mascot.
Extra Innings Should Negate Last Call
Hunter Horenstein: Assistant GM of the Near Future.
You are probably wondering, “”Just who is this smoke jumper of the Devil’s arcade who is going to make it rain sweet, sweet cash for my company?” Well, Joe, I really do not have time to explain that right now as I am charged with bringing Triple A ball to Boise, Idaho via a privately financed stadium. You are just going to have to trust me on this, and remember trust is a two way street, and I need some t-shirts for Myrtle Beach.
Your friend in baseball,
Bads85
Dead Religions 