All hail my king.
If the words "I don't give a shit what you think" took human form this is how they would present themselves. When Polonius sent his son Laertes off France in "Hamlet," he told the boy,
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
And this apparel proclaims in a loud, clear voice for all to hear, "You mean nothing to me. My team lost a tough game. I am working around the clock to see we do not lose another. I have no time for you. Let's get this over with." And I for one couldn't be more inspired by the choice.
You know who didn't care about what he wore? Einstein. He had a closet filled with identical suits so that he could save his prodigious brain power for unlocking the secrets of the universe. You know who cared a lot about what he wore? Elvis. He spent so much time designing his iconic jumpsuits that he got addicted to peanut butter and barbiturate sandwiches, made the movie "Clambake" and died on the toilet. Who would you rather have running an empire? As Ralph Waldo Emerson put it, “Being perfectly well-dressed gives one a tranquillity that no religion can bestow.”
My choice is clear. Give me that guy with the bed head from staying in his office all night breaking down Jon Gruden's 3rd & long tendencies and a sweatshirt that looks like he wore it while stranded on an island for three years, just picked it up off the floor and may or may not have sniffed before he put it on. That's the guy I'll follow through the gates of hell wearing oily rags.
Fashion should make a statement, not ask a question. This fashion states that he is coming for the Raiders Sunday and he's bringing hell with him. That's my head coach.