Arthur George, Rob Kardashian’s sock company that you probably forgot existed, recently pushed their line of “wedding socks” this week, which is odd considering the closest Rob Kardashian has ever come to being married was knocking up Blac Chyna and having her steal both his baby and his Eggos while he was out of the house. I’m not sure why he even pretends to be a “businessman” when he probably still gets a weekly allowance from Kris.
To be fair, the wedding collection, which features socks with phrases such as “Team Bride,” “Maid of Honor” and “Best Man,” is kind of a step up from the rest of the shit he sells. Apparently, Rob actually thinks people are going to wear socks that say “YOLO,” “Baby Daddy” and “Mother Fucker” on the sole. There’s even a pair that says “Dream On,” which is probably part of the branding contract Kris forces every Kardashian child to sign at birth. A moment of silence for the fact that there is at least one person in this world named Dream.
Honestly, I have a lot of mixed feelings about Rob trying to sell people trashy socks with cringeworthy phrases on them. On one hand, I think the socks are heinous and I am nostalgic for the good old days when Rob was hot and dating a Cheetah Girl. You know, before he got addicted to
weed Doritos or whatever. On the other hand, I respect the fact that he has come up with a super elaborate way to avoid having to lose weight or ever wear real clothes again. Obviously, the only people who would want to wear Arthur George socks are people who, like Rob, wear sweatpants and slider sandals everyday and probably smell like Funyuns. In the same way that Kylie has to promote the shit out of her lip kits by using them daily, Rob has to promote his fugly socks by being a hot mess daily. I weirdly approve of using the Kardashian family name to promote his stoner agenda.
At this point, it would be more shocking if the Kardashians—whose social media presence consists almost entirely of Postmates discount codes at this point—did something we actually approved of, but tacky wedding accessories are about as bad as it gets. Rhinestone “Future Mrs” tank tops, tiaras with glitter dicks on them and “bride-to-be” sashes belong in the clearance section of Icing, not in the sacred Kardashian-Jenner empire.