Doc Martens
There was a period of about ten years when I received a pair of Doc Martens, just like in the picture below; every single Christmas. I wore absolutely nothing else during those years. I'd come to think of shoes as if they were an abomination, or something. I didn't wear shoes, EVER. I wore Doc Martens.
Oh, I'd mellowed a bit, I guess, and moved from black Doc Martens to brown Doc Martens, but always of the style so prominently displayed in the most prominent picture that I've provided. Now, combine black Docs with the use of some weights, a chin up bar, and a shaved head; and the infamous "white T," and what do you got? You've got a non "pecker wood" white boy that looks like one. It's not my fault that my chosen appearance lead highway patrolmen in Texas to accuse me of being some sort of paramilitary militia guy. I like guns as much as the next Texan does, and I like the Constitution and the Bill of Rights more than any of the Presidents of the United States have since Kennedy was murdered by the Rothschild family for writing a bill to get rid of their criminal Federal Reserve. If Ben Bernake walked in my house, he'd be shot for the thief that he is, and I'd find my oldest, most worn down pair of Doc Martens, and put them someplace that even his ancestors would feel.
Doc Martens, Keepin' It REAL Since I don't know when.
~WTS~
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