There’s a saying, usually used in movies, that goes something like “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world He doesn’t exist.” I call bullshit because the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that Disturbed wasn’t some mediocre flash-in-the-pan nu-butt-metal band. Like most other bands from that era, Disturbed should have had their time in the sun, faded away, broke up, reformed and played a bunch of pubs, taverns, and pool halls. As of this writing, their cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound Of Silence” has over 131 million views on Youtube. When you google “The Sound Of Silence” this song comes up first. The comments section on the video is full of undying praise, calling it “beautiful” and “emotional”. This is the same band whose biggest original hit had the lyrics:
No mommy, don’t do it again
Don’t do it again
I’ll be a good boy
I’ll be a good boy, I promise
No mommy don’t hit me
Why did you have to hit me like that, mommy?
Don’t do it, you’re hurting me
Why did you have to be such a bitch
Why don’t you
Why don’t you just fuck off and die
Why can’t you just fuck off and die
Why can’t you just leave here and die
Never stick your hand in my face again bitch
I don’t need this shit
You stupid sadistic abusive fucking whore
How would you like to see how it feels mommy
Here it comes, get ready to die
Lot’s of bros with barbed wire tattoos must be confused with all these feelings that Disturbed has given them over the years. It’s an interesting juxtaposition, that’s all I’m saying.
Do the masses think Disturbed are suddenly sensitive artists? That they’re really delicate souls that only want what is beautiful and pure in this world? To quote Mike Patton, “Are people that stupid? I guess they are.” Thankfully, Disturbed has given us a bunch of terrible shirts to remember them as they were, as they are, and as they always will be.
Oh, good. I was hoping I would Disturbed would make a shirt using a mixture of rotten pumpkin guts, crusty mustard leavings, and baby puke. It honestly looks like someone smeared garbage water and old banana peels on most of this shirt. I say most because someone must’ve gotten tired and left just a little bit of the sleeves and shoulders black. How modest. This is all just a side dish for the cultural appropriation shit sandwich of a logo.
Disturbed’s evil-faced mascot is known as “The Guy” because creativity died of a massive coronary the day someone drew it. Eddie. Vic Rattlehead. Snaggletooth. Fuck, even Anthrax showed the slightest sliver of effort when they named their mascot “Not Guy”. For whatever reason, The Guy is dressed like a samurai and looks like he was ripped straight from Todd McFarlane’s doodle pad. Why does he have a radiation logo on his shoulder? Duh, because radiation are awesome! It’s nice that they through in a little red on the sword. If they went with the other colors on the shirt, people would think The Guy murdered your grandmother’s sock drawer. Gladys wouldn’t put up with this nonsense and neither should you. Now eat your vegetables, The Guy, and help grandma with the groceries.
Pffft. This is like the opposite of chocolate and peanut; two shitty tastes that go terribly together. I’m not really sure what this shirt is supposed to mean or represent. Are Disturbed a doo-doo-covered wall in some non-descriptive city alley? Are they trying to say they’re from “the streets”? The wall and the fire escape scene above it don’t even look like they go together. Even the lettering on their name doesn’t look like it belongs. With the background, it looks like it says “DISTURBEED”.
Why does the band’s logo look like it was created in 2 minutes on MS Paint? Was their an artist workers union strike and David Draiman was forced to do this himself? I’d love to see him struggling desperately to get this right, using the track pad on his laptop and constantly having to undo and redo lines. After he gets halfway done, he takes a Minesweeper break for half an hour as a reward. Shhhhh. No one tell him that he forgot an eyebrow for one of the eyes.
Do you like Disturbed? Do you like three Disturbed? No? Tough snake-bite piercings, you’re getting three Disturbeds whether you like it or not. It’s the world’s worst hat trick, but instead of people throwing hats at you, they throw flame-print button-down shirts soaked with shame and syphilis. You must endure the come-hither gaze of David Draiman like a trip to the proctologist with the world’s coldest hands. Just grip something tight, bear down, and think of baseball. It’ll all be over soon.
Is this a printing error? Did the Bratislavan Bootleg Print-o-Matic 3000 get another potato vodka-and-paint-thinner cocktail spilled on it? The smeared logo makes it look like someone fucked up and tried to erase it. Maybe it was to draw attention away from Disturbed’s name being stretched out too much, leaving the first “D” off to the side. Just looking at this shirt makes me feel “ISTURBED”.
This is the kind of half-assed blasphemy that appeals to angsty high schoolers and people who ate paint chips when they were young. Don’t cut yourself on all this edge.
This design would look more appropriate for a thrash band. Just throw Municipal Waste or Toxic Holocaust’s name up top and you wouldn’t think twice. It’s when you look a little harder that you realize why this shirt is here. As always, the Draiman is in the details.
Take a look at his crotch. Admit it, you were going to do that anyway. It’s stained with that toxic black goop he’s standing. How did that happen exactly? You can’t say it was just from walking in that sludge because then his legs would be all black as well. The most reasonable and logic answer is that his dipped his dong directly into the dirty river. The lovely sunburst pattern suggests it was a good time. So do the black stains on his nipples. Ooo-wa-ah-ah-ah indeed.