To Whom it might probably Concern, Im a lumberjack. A proud, flannel-wearing lumberjack. At this moment, I’m madder than a rabid beaver with end mites.These brand new flannel t-shirts of yours are, truth be told, an immediate affront towards hallowed logging arts — while the women and men just who practice them. For shame, Betabrand! Short sleeves are the beach, sirs, maybe not the deepest, darkest corners for the woodland primeval.western Coast hipsters may care maybe not a whit if their particular bare arms tend to be ravaged by poison oak and flesh-crazed muskrats; the actual lumberjack knows better.Furthermore, just how is a semi-sleeveless gentleman supposed to wipe maple syrup from his great, sopping beard? Which Lumberjill: How many trees could one realistically expect to fell this kind of a distractingly comfortable garment?And in which is it woman’s security harness? And appropriate footwear? I’m just starting to believe she couldn’t inform the difference between a Dobbin’s Three-Inch Bark Scraper and a Bleecker Saw if her life depended about it!