“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” was the way Jorge Augistin Nicholás Ruiz de Santayana put it.  Most likely he grew weary of signing autographs for the public sale of his books, upon his Americanization, so he became known simply as George Santayana.  He was born in Madrid, Spain on December 16, 1863 and died September 26, 1952.  He is recognized as one of the most brilliant philosophers of all time by folks in that line of work.

His pronouncement of the caution above was harked back to my mind by a sight that is available to one and all nowadays, if they take the time to peruse the rash of tee shirt messages that adorn the torsos of humanity of all shapes, sexes and ages.  I’ll admit to the practice of voyeurism as I wend my way through life.  I read them shamelessly, but admit that some of the more pithy remarks bring a blush to my ancient old face.

Once upon a time there were no comic strips to grace the pages of printed media, i.e. newspapers, but that came to an abrupt end in Truth magazine in 1894.

November 22, 1896

The Yellow Kid gained nationwide notoriety when it debuted in Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World.  It first appeared on February 17 in 1895.  The legions of comic strip creators watched in awe, and the endless parade of comic strip wanna bes picked up a pen and a bottle of ink.  The trade has not faltered unto this date in 2007.

Richard Felton Outcault is recognized as the father of the American Sunday comics.  He was born in Lancaster, Ohio on January 14, 1863, and at the age of thirty-one created the Yellow Kid.  Numero Uno of comic strips.

What I’m trying to get around to is what evolution has wrought in that 112 span of years.  The Yellow Kid, you see, did not deliver his message in balloons as do the strips of today.  From his home place, Hogan’s Alley, he smiled his snaggle roothed grin and inflicted his homilies via his yellow, ankle length, tee shirt.

Alfred E. Newman, of Mad Comics fame, might well be a direct descendent or look alike if his head was as bald as an egg and his shoes were taken away.  The wing-nut ears are a dead giveaway to the perpetuation of the lineage in my humble opinion, and if Alfred’s head was shaved they would look suspiciously akin.

Now, back to the tee shirt billboards that decorate the landscape and it is obvious that a goodly portion of our population are frustrated mimes.  They may not wear their heart on their sleeve, but they push their agenda with a wardrobe of tees.  And that frees them of verbal communications, unless they own and operate a cell phone.

When you have nothing better to do, spend a day jotting down the visual art messages.  Every once in a while you’ll spot a tee that proclaims “I’m with Stupid,” and the exhibitor is traveling solo.  Good hunting!

If old George Santayana was still alive and kicking I can picture him in the coffee shop, wearing a tee shirt emblazoned with the reworded slogan “Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

My pick of the litter, as of this date, was worn by a cotton bale caliber guy with his slogan in four inch letters and ample room for the Declaration of Independence, should he choose to add additional copy.

He was grinning like a possum, and you can see his boast.

Let me hear from you.

My phone number is 254-893-5063.

My postal address is 333 W. Ayers, De Leon TX 76444.

You can e-mail me at Charles@CharlesChupp.com.