This came out in 2015 and the caption states “Tru religion models vs. tru religion customers” This pertains to race because it shows how the industry lacks diversity when it comes to models. Also, the people they appeal to are black males who spend a lot of money for these name brand clothes. I personally have not yet seen a white person in true religion apparel. This relates to a previous topic of consumer culture.
The Purge truly doesn't understand the motivations of the real human psyche
It acts like if there was a period of time where nothing was illegal everyone would be murdering raping but like there are very very few people out there who harbor secret murder fantasies
Like let’s be real
The minute that clock started we’d all be hitting up our favorite malls, stealing everything we’ve been wanting all year. I wouldn’t murder a person I’d steal a motherfucking $4000 mattress and then stop by Ulta and pick up every shade of lipstick in my favorite brands and then, while I was at it, head to Macy’s and steal the most expensive purses from every brand
And let’s not pretend the guys wouldn’t be at it to the men’d be hitting up the malls with the rest of us ladies, picking up those True Religion jeans they could never afford
And ppl would be stocking up on rice and frozen veggies and other food that won’t perish
Like sure there are people out there who want to murder and rape but let’s be honest they never cared about the laws anyway
The Purge acts all deep like humans all are just dark and evil and violent at heart but in reality we all just crave luxury items and King-sized beds
“You have to lay on it,” She said as she sucked methadone out of the sleeve of her pink hoodie and placed a few sandwiches in between two gym mats. Somehow, I had found myself on the bench of a jail cell learning how to spice up a frozen cheese and mayo sandwich. I had opted for the PB&J, a rookie mistake. I don’t know why I did it—I don’t even like peanut butter—and it wasn’t PB&J; it was peanut butter and honey. It was a gooey brown substance on frozen bread that resembled wheat but didn’t seem like it should be considered wheat. Was this shit gluten free?
I was going on hour twenty in prison, trying to stuff the frozen sandwich down my throat before I could taste it when she walked in. Her hair was seemingly wet with grease, her neck covered in hickies, wearing a five-sizes-too-small pink belly shirt and sneakers without laces. Her butt-crack and stomach were hanging out of her diamond-studded True Religion jeans. She came in like a storm. She was given four sandwiches from the prison guard before she entered the cell. They had a long embrace before she sat down near me. I guess she was a regular. She threw her sandwiches onto the floor and ran into the bathroom: an open toilet with a piece of wood in front of it to allow for the smallest amount of privacy possible. As we sat there, I listened to her poop and complain about accidentally dropping a cigarette in there. I stopped trying to eat my meal.
“Can you get dressed? I’ll pick out your clothes.” I nodded, reluctantly lettin’ ha go. “Yea,” thanking me she kissed ma cheek pushin’ me out of tha closet.
Goin’ into the bathroom I shut tha door before getting into the shower.
Buckling up the Hermés belt I stood in front of the mirror brushin’ ma hands ova ma hair. “How did I do?” I grinned pullin’ ha inta me. “Shit imma make ya ma stylist.”
She picked out a pair of black True Religion jeans a white Givenchy shirt that had hints of red in it. She paired the whole outfit off with my Red Octobers. “No I’m good.”
Pulling at ha curly hair she dropped ha hands from ha hair fixin’ tha shorts she had on. I ain’t gone lie we looked good as hell. She was dressed in black True Religion shorts that looked cut up along, ha ass Sittin’ proper in em lil ass shorts Makin’ me wan’a get behind it. She donned a simple white tank top, ha titties pressed up heavenly against tha cotton tank top that she dressed up with gold accessories.
On ha feet were a pair of red Louboutin spiked ankle boots. I only know this cause she tol’ me. “Ready?” Nodding she grabbed ha purse leanin’ against the door waiting fa me.
Wit ma car keys in hand I threw ma arm around B’s shoulder leading us out of the house.
“Why do you have those glasses on its already dark out?” Rubbin’ ma goatee I glanced at her before pulling out of the gated community. “Cause it’s me babeh.” Smiling turned up the radio and the sounds of ‘Hot Nigga Remix’ came through the speakers.
B grinned before dancing in her seat. She hit the shmoney dance rapping along to Fab before it got to Chris verse “And shawty give me neck till I pass out and she just gettin’ checks cause her ass out makin’ money, gotta be the fast route bitch if you ain’t fuckin’ betta get yo ass out.”
She rapped throwing her hands up in the air. I couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Dis yo shit?” She nodded ignoring my entire existence.
She didn’t acknowledge me until the song went off. “You ‘bout dat life B?.” She grinned and nodded makin
a smirk form on ma face. “Yea, we a see.” Chucklin’ she continued singin’ and dancin’ until she turned tha radio down starin’ out tha window.
“Why ya so quiet?” Slappin’ ma hand down on her thigh, she sucked her teeth. “Why you forever touching me?” Pulling up at a stop light I leaned over and bit her cheek. “Cause ya mine forreal na.” She might as well get use to it.
Shaking her head, “ya gotta stop bittin on me.” I couldn’t stop the grin from formin’ on ma face. “Look at’cha pickin up a lil NOLA.” Waving me off, “boy goodbye I been had a accent I just know I how to hide it.” Pressin’ ma foot on tha gas I looked at ha then back at tha road. “Let me hear sum’n then.”
“Naw you good.”
“Imma hea it watch.”
Finally pullin’ up to our destination, B looked at me with a smirk on her face. “How cute of you.” I chuckled opening tha car door reaching ma arm back to grab tha backpack I brung with me.
Gettin’ out tha car I shut it behind me hittin’ tha locks and walking over to Brooklyn’s side. “Wha’ ya said ya want me ta entertain you.”
“You bringing your girlfriend to a strip club is not you being entertaining.”
Throwin’ ma arm around her shoulder I kissed the side of her head walking up to the entrance. “Ya kno y’on care so shut up.” Laughin’ we got passed the bouncers walking inside.
Club Onyx was doing numbers tonight and I was low key ready to turn up with my baby. Looking over at Brooklyn ha eyes were glued to a dancer who was twerking on the pole.
“Why ya staring’ so hard?” She looked at me chucklin’ befo’ we were sat in the VIP section.
Straddling my lap I placed my hands on ha ass. “Let’s play a game.”
“Wha’ kinda game?” I nodded at tha waitress who sat down the bottle of champagne before looking back at Brooklyn. “Let’s see who can get the most lap dances tonight.” I raised my eyebrow, “whatcha mean?”
She bit her glossy lips, “exactly what I said.”
“Ya’on wanna play dis game Gi.”
“I think you’re just scared you’re going to lose.” Running ma fingers through her soft curls I pulled on them bringing her face closer to me.
“Wha I get if I win?”
“Whatever you want.” She mumbled against my lips. “I want sum head.” She shrugged, “whatever you want papí.” I shifted in my seat a little and she smirked hearing my breathing become ragged.
“whatchu get?” She smirked, “Yo tongue on my p-” “and ya lil ass call me nasty.” Grinnin’ she kissed ma lips “I haven’t thought of it yet but just be prepared to lose.” Climbin’ off my lap she grabbed the backpack that was near us taking at least three stacks out.
Standing from the couch she stood in front of me placing her hands on either side of my head. “Have fun but don’t get fucked up.” Staring at her in amusement I pulled the buckle of her Ferragamo belt so she was closer.
“Nah ya’on get fucked up and I prefer it sloppy babeh.” She laughed cutely kissing my cheek. “It’s only right.” Kissing her lips I let her go watching her walk out of the VIP section.
I grinned rubbing my hands together, this should be fun.
I have a Street Glide just because I designed them for Harley.
But the whole Bagger craze is just the lamest shit ever. When white boys start copying what Black guys do on Crenshaw? It’s just never good. Picture a Whiteboy wearing some True Religion Jeans and a Affliction shirt with his hat on backwards rolling in a bright lime green 86’ caprice with 30” rims. That guy is a Fuckin Asshole correct? Now just because they are on bikes doesn’t make it ok. In fact most of my black homies from the Hood think that shit is lame also. They’ve switched to sport bikes.
I was meaning to share this story, but it’s so utterly ridiculous that I doubted any followers would believe me. But now is a perfect time to share with you all due to the messages tonight.
Okay so at the restaurant I work at this guy was wearing these jeans that had the ripped look to them and one of the holes got caught to his chair or something and it ripped even more. Well he freaked the hell out about it. He was taken to the back so management could talk to him and he was throwing a huge fit.
“These are True Religion jeans they cost over $500,” he screamed.
He demanded the restaurant give him the money right there, but the manager said that’s not how our policy works. He would have to fix the jeans or replace them and then bring us the receipt so we can compensate. After our manager explained that he yelled “YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT FUCKING MONEY!?” He then took out his wallet and threw a wad of cash in the managers face.
When someone threatened to call security, he got up in the managers face and formed a fist like he was going to hit him. Then he just stopped, grabbed his money and left.
Yep, I see some real cartoony rich villain type characters at work.