You’d look a little pale too if your intestines were packed tight with the convenience of reusable plastic shopping bags. And that constant look of dull surprise is more than likely a direct result of the entire household taking full advantage of that convenience.

You know, this sweater isn’t bad at all. I do love a basketweave knit. I’m more concerned with this woman’s decision to cinch her outfit at the head.

This Kandy Klown is the worst of both worlds for a kid. Its arrival on Christmas morning could very possibly be enough of a buzz-kill to ruin the whole day. Pep-O-Mint is the least loved of all sugary confections. Well, it’s a close second to a giant block of sticky ribbon candy, anyway. Perching the decapitated head of a clown on top does nothing to add to its appeal. Graft on some ambiguous yarn limbs and you’ve got what grandma would call an “adorable treat” and what junior can’t wait to strap an entire package of firecrackers onto.

No time to have that special talk with your daughter? Do the birds and the bees leave you weak in the knees? Then say it with yarn! Teach your darling girl all about her burgeoning womanhood with the Burgeoning Womanhoodie! Fun ovaries on the front pocket will teach her everything she needs to know.

Act now to get our patented cramp-inducing acrylic yarn and snapping mousetrap pocket inserts. Boys with flowers won’t stand a chance!

If these sleeveless sweaters (they’re NOT vests, dammit!) and their models aren’t sealed in a time capsule somewhere, they should be. They’re pretty much the embodiment of the free-wheelin’ 1970s. You’ve get yer diverse collection of bell-bottomed and go-go-booted citizens donning cultural icons like the Smiley Face, the Crazy Daisy, and the Rainbow Sternum. Their classic Sears Catalog posturing harkens back to a simpler time in our history. Goofy but cheerful, just like the 70s themselves, yes?

Uhh, no. The 70’s was not all smiles and flowers and technicolor ribs. There were Pilgrim-confused individuals with an Isaac Newton fetish, gals involved in lurid affairs with 50-foot women who left gaudy lipstick stains everywhere, and diamond-encrusted hunks stuffed into chunky corduroys.

In fact, let’s take a look at these crotch-poppers. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the finest example of the male camel toe we’ve ever see, affectionately known as . . . wait for it . . .

The Mooseknuckle!!!

It’s gonna get a little weird inside that time capsule.