From his private diary to the bottoms of your sweaty feet | Bleader

From his private diary to the bottoms of your sweaty feet

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I'm not one to knock on someone else's hustle, and as a recovering sneaker addict I have a hard time bagging on any sort of special-edition shoe, no matter how ridiculous, but I can't really hang with Converse's Kurt Cobain signature series. It's not so much that the series includes prescuffed replicas of the shoes he killed himself in--which is at least as morbid and exploitative as the death-certificate T-shirts that came out within days of his suicide--but that the insoles of the death shoes have "punk rock means freedom" written on them.

Will some 17-year-old kids please start a punk band that is so obnoxious and shitty that no one as old as I am can get into it? Otherwise I'm afraid that after this atrocity the cosmic punk scales are gonna end up tipped the wrong way.

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