Shia Labeouf Turned Yoga Instructor

Yo, the people at Levi's RED (the super bizarro, baggy as fuck everything high-end line from Levi's) just released this totally insane lookbook. Sure, the photos are downright gorgeous, aesthetically speaking, but what the fuck is Shia Labeouf turned yoga instructor even doing? This actually reminds me of the episode of Entourage when they do mushrooms in the desert, which was fantastic until it lead to Vinny making yet another career choice that was totally unsympathetic and uninteresting. The model here also looks like he's doing the Joaquin Pheonix "OS Shuffle" from Her in slide, 2 but instead of a computer, he fucks a cactus at night while praying to his various spirit animals. Oh, and that long denim poncho thing? Totally awesome.


2 Responses to “Shia Labeouf Turned Yoga Instructor”

  1. Nerd

    Shia, I know you’re reading this because you’re a self-centred, egotistical piece of shit who Googles himself – especially post-lookbook shoot.

    Your career is dead. You are a mediocre actor, a bad dresser and a horrible, horrible director. That short film you released made my back hairs explode. That wasn’t an analogy; they literally combusted as a direct result of viewing My back is severely burnt and I’m in the process of suing you for ‘artistically-induced grievous bodily harm’.

    That was a joke and my back is perfectly fine other than the bouts of chronic acne I’ve been suffering from since sixth grade.

    But enough about my genetically inherited skin issues – this comment is actually about your potential future creative direction.

    You were ‘fine’ in Transformers and you most likely banged my lil’ ma Megan Fox (and then that next chick who tricked you into thinking she was Megan Fox in (what seemed like) the nine-hundredth sequel of Transformers), so props for that.

    But that is where the props end, my dude.

    I kind of feel this this lookbook is the prelude to a hyper-original Visvim clone; a naive expedition into the world of Fashion with a capital ‘F’.

    Fortunately for you, I’m a great judge of character and a self-proclaimed life coach, so take the following words with heed, dear fuckhead.

    Your cryptic, overly defensive Twitter posts tell us exactly what type of person you are – you’ve no doubt been told ‘you’re special’ from a very young age. You got that sweet role in Holes and you were chasing the Pink Panther (or python; whatever floats your boat, friend) ever since.

    You need to be told that you’re great, and that you’re not a worthless, talentless piece of shit, and that you’re cock is totally not less than six inches, on a regular basis. We get that, I swear. We have our very own version of Shia LaBeouf by the name of Randy Lai.

    But Randy doesn’t get his much needed self-esteem boost from us. We hate him. Every article he publishes is ridiculed by both his colleagues and the Four-Pins readership, even if sometimes they (or we) pretend otherwise. His friends put an extra spoon of beans in his coffee and his parents pretend they “aren’t those” Lais. Of no relation. Naranjas en lugar limas. Comprendez, seƱor?

    Fashion doesn’t need you bro – it doesn’t need you and it doesn’t want you.

    Now fuck off back to choking on Michael Bay’s cock, you little bitch.

    All the best,

    on behalf of Fashion


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